Maya (after a while).—Tell me, Mr. Petr, but sincerely, what do you think of me?
Petr.—You? How do you mean?
Maya.—Do you really still regard me as a friend of childhood days?
Petr.—Can I, to-day? We are already so distant from each other.
Maya.—Perhaps I am to you. And I can well understand that. It cannot be otherwise. Why, I have changed much more than you did. At least, in appearance. And just because you did not have to absent yourself from your childhood, you are even to-day much nearer to me than you know.
Petr.—Really?
Maya.—Yes, really. And therefore do not think ill of me because a little while ago I interested myself in your happiness and cared just as much about it as your mother or your uncle.
Petr.—Miss
Maya.—Yes, and I am as fond of you to-day as I was in our childhood days. We are mature people—our ways parted long ago and will never meet again. Why should we not talk freely?
Petr (disturbed).—And will never meet again.
Maya.—But friends we will remain, would we not? Friends we were always and continuously, although we did not see each other for years. And I am grateful to you for the most pleasant memories of my childhood, and now when I leave here, I will be grateful to you for this.
Petr.—Grateful to me? And for what?
Maya.—Perhaps only for just this moment. Because it is so rich for me, it reflects so beautifully in my soul, in a way which you cannot understand. For many long years I have not known such calmness and rest. And that gives me to-day as much pleasure as the most difficult task. I give myself up to it, I give myself up to it entirely, my friend, and I am glad that I have some one to whom I can tell all these things.
Petr (suddenly).—Miss Maya, you don’t know how happy you make me by these words. Even though I am suffering so much, you make me happy by these words.
Maya.—But, Mr. Petr! Do understand me. I did not mean to disturb you with my sincerity. I did not want my happiness at such a high price. I thought that you would be able to understand
