Elizaveta of the Island

False Dawn

Roderich asked Elizaveta to marry him in the little pavilion on the harbor where they had talked on the rainy day of their first meeting. Elizaveta thought it very romantic that he should have chosen that spot. And his proposal was as beautifully worded as if he had copied it out of a "How to Propose to a Hungarian Romanticist" Manual. The whole effect was quite flawless. And it was also sincere. There was no doubt that Roderich meant what he said. There was no false note to jar the symphony. Elizaveta felt that she ought to be thrilling from head to foot. But she wasn't; she was horribly cool. When Roderich paused for his answer she opened her lips to say her fateful yes. And then - she found herself trembling as if she were reeling back from a precipice. To her came one of those moments when we realize, as by a blinding flash of illumination, more than all our previous years have taught us. She pulled her hand from Roderich's.

"Oh, I can't marry you - I can't - I can't," she cried, wildly.

Roderich turned pale - and also looked rather foolish. He had - small blame to him - felt very sure.

"What do you mean?" he stammered.

"I mean that I can't marry you," repeated Elizaveta desperately. "I thought I could - but I can't."

"Why can't you?" Roderich asked more calmly.

"Because - I don't care enough for you."

A crimson streak came into Roderich's face.

"So you've just been amusing yourself these two years?" he said slowly.

"No, no, I haven't," gasped poor Elizaveta. Oh, how could she explain? She COULDN'T explain. There are some things that cannot be explained. "I did think I cared - truly I did - but I know now I don't."

"You have ruined my life," said Roderich bitterly.

"Forgive me," pleaded Elizaveta miserably, with hot cheeks and stinging eyes.

Roderich turned away and stood for a few minutes looking out seaward. When he came back to Elizaveta, he was very pale again.

"You can give me no hope?" he said.

Elizaveta shook her head mutely.

"Then - good-bye," said Roderich. "I can't understand it - I can't believe you are not the woman I've believed you to be. But reproaches are idle between us. You are the only woman I can ever love. I thank you for your friendship, at least. Good-bye, Elizaveta."

"Good-bye," faltered Elizaveta. When Roderich had gone she sat for a long time in the pavilion, watching a white mist creeping subtly and remorselessly landward up the harbor. It was her hour of humiliation and self-contempt and shame. Their waves went over her. And yet, underneath it all, was a queer sense of recovered freedom.

"You - you REFUSED him?" said Feliks blankly.

"Yes."

"Elizaveta Hedervary, are you really, like, in your senses?"

"I think so," said Elizaveta wearily. "Oh, Feliks, don't scold me. You don't understand."

"I totally don't understand. You've, like, encouraged Roderich Edelstein in every way for two years - and now you tell me you've refused him? Girl, you've just been flirting scandalously with him! Elizaveta, I couldn't have believed it of YOU."

"I WASN'T flirting with him - I honestly thought I cared up to the last minute - and then - well, I just knew I NEVER could marry him."

"Well, I totally think you have treated Roderich shamefully," said Feliks in exasperation. "He's, like, handsome and clever and rich and good. What more do you want?"

"I want some one who BELONGS in my life. He doesn't. I was swept off my feet at first by his good looks and knack of playing romantic instruments; and later on I thought I MUST be in love because he was my dark-haired ideal."

"Well, I suppose there's, like, no use in saying anything to you."

"There is no need, Feliks. I'm in the dust. This has spoiled everything backwards. I can never think of Gakuen days without recalling the humiliation of this evening. Roderich despises me - and you despise me - and I despise myself."

"You poor darling," said Feliks, melting. "Just come here and let me comfort you. I have, like, no right to scold you after all. Oh, Elizaveta, things are so mixed-up in real life, huh? They totally aren't clear-cut and trimmed off, as they are in novels."

"I hope that NO one will ever again ask me to marry him as long as I live," sobbed poor Elizaveta, devoutly believing that she meant it.