ing gaze of those two great eyes, so vastly sad.

"Oh, monsieur," she said, with a tone of deep appeal, "believe me, I
have never done so cruel a thing as that in all my life!"

"Are you to all men as to me?"

"I hope so."

"That American in Zurich! when you met him again was it as to meet me
again?"

"But he is no especial friend of mine."

"And am I especial?--Am I?--Yes?"

"Yes," she said slowly, "I feel as if I had known you all my life."

"Yes," he answered quickly, "just so I feel also."

He put up his hand and again brushed the loose lock of his wavy hair
back from his forehead.

"_Vraiment_," he exclaimed, "I begin to feel that it is impossible that
I go to-morrow."

"Oh, but you must," she cried, much alarmed.

"We are so happy; why can we not let this pleasure last?"

"You _must_ go!" she reiterated with decision.

"We understand so well," he went on, without noticing her words; "you
understand, I understand. I wish nothing of you, I require nothing of
you, only the friendship--only these good hours that we know together,
only the joy of our sympathy. Why can I not be where you are everywhere?
_Warum nichts?_"

"It isn't possible!" she said firmly.

He turned about in his seat and called for the reckoning. After it was
paid they went together back towards the hotel.

"You have told me that you will never marry again," he said presently,
"and I have told you that I also intend never. But--" he stopped short.
The hotel court was there before them, and the scent of some night
flowers came on the evening breeze from those beds of riotous color
which fill the central space of the old Cloister.

"Let us walk once around the Kreuzgang," he suggested, "and after that
we will go in."

She assented, and they followed the vivid outline of Constance's history
as portrayed in the large frescoes upon the inner wall of the vaulted
passage.

"I do not breathe here," he said suddenly; "come into the garden with me
once again. But for a moment? I beg--I pray!"

They went out on to the terrace, passing through the Refectory, now
thick with smoke and scintillating with beer-steins.

"You say that you will never marry," he said again, as they encircled
the base of Huss' Tower, "and I tell you that I also have the idea to
never marry. But--"

He paused again, just by that bit of the old monastery wall which
extends out towards the bathing-houses.

"But if--_if_," he emphasized the monosyllable with m