You love me, Ada, I know
it; do not try to deceive me, and I love you beyond all power of
speech."
He stood before her in the triumph of victory. Never before had his dark
beauty shone forth so strongly, never before had his eyes glowed with
such intensity, or his face expressed such passion and longing.
And he had spoken the truth.
The woman who leaned against the tree, trembling and deadly pale, loved
him; loved him as only a pure, exalted nature can love. This cold,
haughty woman, whom the world had named heartless, was swayed and torn
by this, the first love of her young life.
She felt within her a passion to which she could no longer blind
herself; the fiery breath, with all its fierceness, was blowing down
upon her. Now came the crucial-test.
"Leave me at once, Herr Rojanow--this instant," she said. The words had
a choked, scarcely audible sound, and they were spoken to a man who was
not accustomed to yield when he felt himself the victor. He would have
gone closer to her--but something in the young wife's eye, in spite of
all, kept him within bounds. But he spoke her name again, and in a tone
whose power he best knew:
"Ada!"
She shuddered, and made a protesting motion.
"Not that name. For you I am only Adelheid von Wallmoden. I am married;
you know that.
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