“You are young, and I am not young. You want amusement, and I want something different. Amuse yourself, if you like, but not with me. If you do, I shall take it seriously; and then I shall be unhappy, and you will repent. That is what A said,” he added; “however, this is all nonsense; but you understand why I am going. And don’t let us continue this conversation. Please not!”
“No! no!” I said, “we must continue it,” and tears began to tremble in my voice. “Did he lover her, or not?”
He did not answer.
“If he did not love her, why did he treat her as a child and pretend to love her?” I asked.
“Yes, A behaved badly,” he interrupted me quickly; “but it all came to an end and they parted friends.”
“This is horrible! Is there no other ending?” I said with a great effort and then felt afraid of what I had said.
“Yes, there is,” he said, showing a face full of emotion and looking straight at me. “There are two different endings. But, for God’s sake, listen to me quietly and don’t interrupt. Some say”—here he stood up and smiled with a smile that was heavy with pain—“some say that A went off his head, fell passionately in love with B, and told her so. But she only laughed. To her it was all a jest, but to him a matter of life and death.”
I shuddered and tried to interrupt him—tried to say that he must not dare to speak for me; but he checked me, laying his hand on mine.