It is strange how every relation in life assumes a different face as
soon as a new person enters.
We spent marvellous days together; we visited the mountains and
lakes, we read together, and I completed Wanda’s portrait. And how
we loved one another, how beautiful her smiling face was!
Then a friend of hers arrived, a divorced woman somewhat older, more
experienced, and less scrupulous than Wanda. Her influence is already
making itself felt in every direction.
Wanda wrinkles her brows, and displays a certain impatience with me.
Has she ceased loving me?