Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - Part IV - III
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THE CONFESSION OF A FOOL 2G5
me like a crushing load. I bowed my head, I fell on my
knees, I whined for mercy.
" You believed in the tittle-tattle of that woman ! You
believed that I wanted to be rid of you ! And yet I have
never been anything to you but a true friend, a faithful
husband ; I can’t live without you ! You complained of
my jealousy . . . while I regarded all women who run
after me, trying to make love to me, as evil spirits. You
believed what that woman said ! . . . Tell me, did you
really believe it ?
"
She was moved to compassion, and, all at once, yielding
to a prompting to tell the truth, she confessed that she
had never really believed it.
’"
And you deceived me. . . . Confess it, I’ll forgive
you. . . . Deliver me from the terrible, pitiless thoughts
which torment me. . . . Confess it. . .
."
She confessed nothing, and merely confined herself to
calling my friend a "scoundrel."
A scoundrel he, my most intimate, my closest
friend !
Oh, that I lay before her dead ! Life was unbear-
able. . . .
During dinner she was more than kind to me. When I
had gone to bed, she came into my room, and, sitting
on the edge of my bed, stroked my hands, kissed my eyes,
and at last, shaken to the very foundation of her soul,
burst into uncontrollable weeping.
"Don’t cry, darling, tell me what’s the matter; let
me comfort you! ..."
She stammered unintelligible, disconnected words
about my generous heart, my kindness, my forbearance,
the great compassion which I extended even to the worst
of sinners.
How absurd it all was ! I accused her of infidelity,
she praised and caressed me.
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