The Undying Past Part 29

"Felicitas!" he cried. His voice sounded hard and threatening, a little harder, perhaps, than he intended.

The answer he got was a tearless sob, which shook the supple, rounded figure on the steps. Without looking up, she withdrew her left hand from her face and stretched it slowly towards him with a limp, helpless action; the hand seemed to fumble for the one that should meet and grasp it. But the intention of greeting her in so friendly a manner was far from him, and so her hand fell, without having found any support, into her lap, as a wounded bird falls to the ground.

"You wished to speak to me, Felicitas?" he said.

Now she let her right hand, too, slide from her face, and the melting and reproachful look she cast up at him seemed to ask, "Have I deserved this of you?"

"She has aged a little," he thought, looking at her more nearly. She had a slightly worn appearance, although the oval outline of her profile curved in soft unbroken firmness into her rounded chin, and the milk-white forehead, over which the hair curled wildly, was of girlish purity and smoothness. But from the corners of the eyes downwards, delicate crow's-feet extended to the cheeks; the mouth seemed to have sunk, and on the brows faint, carefully drawn lines of paint had caught the moisture which glistened there in a chain of dewdrops.

"Extraordinary!" he thought to himself, repeating the reflections of the night. "How completely one can be cured of love for a woman." And then he said again--

"You wished to speak to me, Felicitas?"

In a low, hesitating voice, she asked, "And you, Leo, have not wished to speak to me?"

"No," he answered bluntly.

The corners of her lips trembled in a sad little smile, which, invulnerable as he felt himself to be, sent a stab to his soul. He must be severe, but not too rough with her.

"You must not misunderstand me, Felicitas," he continued, in a softer tone. "We haven't met here to make sugary speeches, or to burrow in the old ashes. We must be open and frank with each other, however painful it may be. I intend to hurt you very much."

She breathed more freely. This unqualified declaration of hostilities seemed to soothe her. Then she drooped her beautiful head humbly.

"First of all," he went on, "so that there may be no cross purposes between us, I ask you--have you any regrets for what once existed between us?"

"I don't know what you mean," she said softly.

"Have you--have you, in short, an atom of liking left for me?"

She closed her eyes and shook her head wearily and slowly, like a sick woman.

"You may make your mind quite easy on that point," she said, still with half-closed lids. "There is no man in the world I detest as much as you."

"It is not necessary to go quite so far," he answered, with a forced laugh. "What happened between us was only what was bound to happen, as a natural course, after we had once----"

He stopped short, feeling dimly that he was giving confused expression to his thoughts; and then pulling himself together with an effort, he went on--

"The question now is, not what has been, but what _is_; ... and whether you detest me or not is of no consequence. As I am here, I feel that I have the right to put a few questions to you. You certainly must answer them, for I stand before you as your husband's friend."

She smiled up at him, resigned to her fate. "Ask what you like," she whispered.

"Is it true what the gossip of the neighbourhood reports--that you--that you are deceiving Ulrich?"

Simply and quietly, without taking her veiled eyes from his face, she replied, "Yes!"

It seemed to him almost as if the masonry of the pedestal against which she leaned was going to fall on her. He was furious and disgusted, and pointing his outstretched fingers at her, he called her name in a choked voice.

With her perpetual smile, she folded her hands and said--

"I deceive him every day and every hour, Leo. My life is a disgraceful sham. Ulrich at my side is in h.e.l.l."

"Who is the scoundrel?" he asked, grinding his teeth. "Tell me his name? You shall not go away from here alive, unless you tell me his name."

"Well, why shouldn't I tell you," she answered, with the same mysterious smile. "His name is Leo Sellenthin."

He fell back against the wall of the temple with a deep sigh of relief.

After all she was only acting. Thank G.o.d! Thank G.o.d!

"Listen, Felicitas," he said then. "I am not here to be humbugged....

Still, you have not mentioned my name for nothing. Therefore, you shall answer a second question. Why--how could you dare, at the time when I was as good as dead, keeping dark, you know what, how could you dare to become Ulrich's wife?"

Her smile became more p.r.o.nounced. It would seem as if she positively gloried in his anger. But she said nothing.

"Were you not afraid," he asked, "that I should ruin you for this deception--when once I came back?"

"I hoped so," she said, raising her folded hands a little off her lap.

"Felicitas," he answered, "I warn you ... let this masquerading alone.

You can gain nothing by it, with me. Again I ask you, how could you?"

Then she raised both hands quite, and entreated. "Don't bully me--don't bully me!"

"Well, then, speak!"

"I will tell you everything--everything," she a.s.sured him. "Only you will have patience with me. Say that you will, Leo?"

"Of course. Yes."

"You see, at that time--I must confess it to you--at that time my love for you was not yet plucked out of my heart, and as--you see, it was impossible that we should come together after Rhaden's death----"

"Why was it impossible?" he broke in. "Did I not, on the night of the duel, go down on my knees, and conjure you to fly with me? Why shouldn't we have begun a new life together over in America, or some other part of the world, if our love was serious? I had resolved to sacrifice all for you--but you. Well, all that is over. Let us not refer to it again. As it was impossible that we could come together, you were saying?"

"So I wanted at least one thing," she confessed. "Don't look at me, please. I wanted at least to be near you."

He could scarcely grasp what he heard. It was so horrible,

"As Ulrich's wife?" he stammered. "Felicitas, think what you are saying."

She shook her head, smiling. "I didn't mean that," she whispered.

"Don't think so badly of me. All I wanted was sometimes to see you, to hear your voice, to refresh my ears with your old laugh. For don't forget, _then_ I still loved you. If I sinned, it was out of love for you. Reproach me for it if you can."

He could not. His sister had been right, it was not easy to play the judge when one was a fellow-prisoner at the bar.

"Let us leave that time out of the question," he said after a silence.

"I have got my answer--and that is enough. But we have more before us.

Now it is the present, not the past, that we are concerned with. Is it true, Felicitas, that you have a train of admirers hanging after you, and that you encourage them to make love to you in Ulrich's house?"

"Yes," she replied, beginning her smile anew.