She would say nothing to Anton--no, not a
word again, though both might live for an eternity; but she would write
a line to Rebecca Loth, and tell the Jewess that the Jew was now free
to marry whom he would among his own people. And some of the words that
she thought would be fitting for such a letter occurred to her as she
sat there. "I know now that a Jew and a Christian ought not to love
each other as we loved. Their hearts are different." That was her
present purpose, but, as will be seen, she changed it afterwards.
But ever and again as she strengthened her resolution, her thoughts
would run from her, carrying her back to the sweet rapture of some
moment in which the man had been gracious to her; and even while she
was struggling to teach herself to hate him, she would lean her head on
one side, as though by doing so she might once more touch his brow with
hers; and unconsciously she would put out her fingers, as though they
might find their way into his hand. And then she would draw them back
with a shudder, as though recoiling from the touch of an adder.
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