She was insolable at the destruction of her airy castle, and was ill for days, the first time since Wilhelm had known her.  He sympathized deeply with her in her grief, but he did not conceal from himself that he was infinitely relieved at the turn affairs had taken.  With such a morbidly analytical and yet profoundly moral nature as his, no rapture of the senses could possibly last for six months and more.  The passion in which reason plays no part was past and over long ago, and during the last few weeks he had reflected upon the situation with ever-increasing clearness and deliberation.  At first he had not been quite sure of his feelings, but earnest self-examination by degrees made everything plain to him.  What he was most distinctly conscious of was a sense of profound disgust at his present manner of life.  Things could not remain as they were.  Sooner or later it must inevitably come to the knowledge of his friends.  What would they think of him for leading such a life at Pilar’s side, in her house?  She had children who would some day sit in judgment upon her conduct and his.  And how did he stand in the eyes of the servants and the visitors whose acquaintance Pilar had forced upon him?  If at least she would give up her outside circle of friends!  But that she either could not or would not do, and so brought ill-natured witnesses of their relations to the house, and Wilhelm must needs accommodate himself to an intercourse with second-rate people who inevitably form the set of a woman whose domestic circumstances are not clearly, or rather all too clearly defined.  And before these people, who appeared to him greatly inferior to himself, both morally and intellectually, he was forced to cast down his eyes.  Reflect as he might upon the situation, the result was always the same—­it must be put to an end to.  But how?

There remained always the possibility that her husband might die and she be thus free to marry him.  Strange, he always hurried over this solution of the difficulty.  In his inner consciousness he was apparently not desirous of making the connection a lifelong one, even if sanctioned by lawful formalities.  Leave her.  He shuddered at the thought.  It would be criminal to cause her so great a grief, for he was assured that she loved him passionately, and he was deeply and fondly grateful to her for doing so.  She might some day grow tired of him.  He hoped for this, but the hope was so faint, so secret, so hidden, that he hardly dared confess it to himself, knowing well that it was a deadly and altogether undeserved insult to her love.  And even this faint hope vanished when she whispered the news of her prospective motherhood in his ear; now there was no possibility of a dissolution of their connection.  If a human creature was indebted to him for its life, he must give himself up to it, and to this sacred duty he must sacrifice freedom, happiness, even self-respect.  But his heart contracted with a bitter pang at the thought.  It was as if a black curtain had been drawn in front of him, or a window walled up which permitted a view over the open country from a dark room.