Somehow his interest in these readings
began to flag; he informed me presently that I had now almost, entirely
recovered, and weeks often passed without meeting him. One afternoon I
was surprised to find M. in my room when I returned from a walk with my
pupils. She had been waiting for me nearly half an hour, and I could
not at first conjecture the reason. Gradually she drew the conversation
towards B. and at last asked me what I thought of him. Instantly I saw
what had happened. What I imagined was once mine had been stolen,
stolen perhaps unconsciously, but nevertheless stolen, my sole treasure.
She was rich, she had a father and mother, she had many friends and
would certainly have been married had she never seen B. I, as I have
said, was almost penniless; I was an orphan, with few friends; he was my
first love, and I knew he would be my last.
I was condemned, I foresaw, henceforth to solitude, and that most
terrible of all calamities, heart-starvation. What B. had said about M.
came into my mind and rose to my lips. I knew, or thought I knew, that
if I revealed it to her she would be so angry that she would cast him
off.
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