Going up to the bed, she clung still more fondly to Wilhelm, and murmured in coy and halting tones—­“Perhaps you have not noticed that everything in this room, except the altar and the priedieu, is new; I had this fresh little nest arranged for us while we were in St. Valery.  I hope our rest may be sweet and our dreams happy ones.”

He sought nervously for some appropriate answer, but she gave him no time, and opening a door in the wall beside the fireplace, she went on—­“And this is your room.  Tell me, have I guessed your taste?”

Without even glancing into the cozy, one-windowed room, he said, taking Pilar’s hand in his:  “Why torture me, Pilar?—­you know it cannot be.”

“Wilhelm!” her voice was firm, and she looked him full in the eyes, “do you love me?”

“You know it.”

“Do we belong to each other?”

“Yes—­and no.”

“That is not a straightforward answer.  We do belong to one another.  You know perfectly well that if I were free you would marry me, and then you certainly would have no scruples in coming into this house as its master.  Where is the difference?”

“You know where the difference lies.”

“It is enough to drive one crazy!  Is a paltry prejudice to triumph over our right to be happy?  We are both of age.  We are accountable to no one on earth for our actions.  An insurmountable obstacle, for the moment, prevents us making our relations respectable in the eyes of the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick-maker by paying a few francs to a registry-office and a priest.  Has the mumbling of a priest so much meaning for you?  Must you first enjoy the edifying spectacle of a mavre in a fringed scarf before you can feel like my husband?  Or do you want any one else’s consent?  My father is dead, but my mother would adore you and do anything in the world for you, if I told her you made her only child unspeakably happy.  What more do you want?”

“I could not reconcile myself to such a position, There is nothing to be said against your arguments.  But for me to live on you—­”

“For shame!” she cried, and tapped him lightly on the cheek with her forefinger.  “Ah, you see I love you better than you love me.  If you were very rich and I had not a penny, I would not hesitate for an instant to accept everything from you.  I trust my heart is of more value to you than this paltry little house and its sticks of furniture.  You have my heart—­what is all the rest compared with that?”

He still shook his head unconvinced, but she knelt before him and said imploringly:  “Wilhelm, you will not hurt me so.  Even if it costs you a great deal, make this sacrifice for my sake.  Give it a trial.  You will see how soon you will get accustomed to it.  And if not, then I am ready to go with you to the ends of the earth—­to the Black Forest—­wherever you will.  Only try it, Wilhelm—­have pity on me.”