not be your bride till I can say to you with glad confidence, as well as with passionate love:  ‘You have conquered—­take me, I am yours!’ Then you shall feel and confess that Paula’s love is not less vehement, less ardent. . . .  O God!  Orion, learn to know and understand me.  You must—­for my sake and your own, you must!—­My head, merciful Heaven, my head!”

She bowed her face and clasped her hands to her burning brow; Orion, pale and shivering, laid his hand on her shoulder, and said in a harsh, forced voice that had lost all its music:  “The Esoterics impose severe trials on their disciples before they admit them into the mysteries.  And we are in Egypt—­but the difference is a wide one when the rule is applied to love.  How ever, all this is not from yourself.  What you call prudence is the voice of that nun!”

“It is the voice of reason,” replied Paula softly.  “The yearning of my heart had overpowered it, and I owe to my friend. . . .”

“What do you owe her?” cried the young man furiously indignant.  “You should curse her, rather, for doing you so ill a turn, as I do at this moment.  What does she know of me?  Has she ever heard a word from my lips?  If that despotic and casuistic recluse could have known what my heart and soul are like, she would have advised you differently.  Even as a childs’ confidence and love alone could influence me.  Whatever my faults might be, I never was false to kindness and trust.—­And, so far as you are concerned—­you who are prudence and reason in person—­blest in your love, I should have cared only for your approbation.  If I could have overcome the last of your scruples, I should indeed have been proud and happy!—­I would have brought the sun and stars down from the sky for you, and have laughed temptation to scorn!—­But as it is—­instead of being raised I am lowered, a laughing-stock even in my own eyes.  One with you, I could have led the way on wings to the realms of light where Perfection holds sway!—­But as it is?  What a task lies before me!—­To heat your frigid love to flaming point by good deeds, as though they were olive-logs.  A pretty task for a man—­to put himself to the proof before the woman he loves!  It is a hideous and insulting torture which I will not submit to, against which my whole inner man revolts, and which you will and must forego—­if indeed it is true that you love me!”

“I love you, oh!  I love you,” she cried, beside herself, and seizing his hands.  “Perhaps you are right.  I—­my God what shall I do?  Only do not ask me yet, to speak the final yes or no.  I cannot control myself to the feeblest thought.  You see, you see, how I am suffering!”

“Yes, I see it,” he replied, looking compassionately at her pale face and drawn brow.  “And if it must be so, I say:  till this evening then.  Try to rest now, and take care of yourself.—­But then. . . .”

“Then, during the voyage, the flight, repeat to the abbess all you have just said to me.  She is a noble woman, and she, too, will learn to understand and to love you, I am sure.  She will retract the word I know. . . .”