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116 ARIADNE.she could not sink into eternal silence whilst hisvoice was stdl upon some other's ear, his kissuponsome other's mouth. For all else, life wasterrible to her; and the fever ofit began to consumeher, and she grew weak and sufferedmuch, though she never complained; alwaysindifferent to physical pain, she was now as itseemed insensible to it, and her genius seemeddead.She had bought everything that ever he hadwritten, and she had learned the tongue that theywere written in, and night and day she hungover them, and their pages grew blistered andillegible inmany places with the scorching tearsthat fell on them.OnceIfound her thus:her eyes gazed at mewearily, and with sad bewilderment."Itry to see in them what he wished for, andwhereIfailed," she said, with a piteous humilityin her words.Icursed the books, and him by whom theywere written. Icould have said to her thetruth;Icould have said, "you had no faultsave this ; that with you he heard but the