you
know that she loves you?"--"If she loves me why is she sad?"--"That
is her secret, respect it."--"If I take her away with me, will she be
happy?"--"Love her and she will be."--"Why, when that man looks at her,
does she seem to fear to meet his glance?"--"Because she is a woman
and he is young."--"Why does that young man turn pale when she looks at
him?"--"Because he is a man and she is beautiful."--"Why, when I went to
see him did he throw himself into my arms, and why did he weep and beat
his head with his hands?"--"Do not seek to know what you must remain
ignorant of."--"Why can I not know these things?"--"Because you are
miserable and weak, and all mystery is of God."

"But why is it that I suffer? Why is it that my soul recoils in
terror?"--"Think of your father and do good."--"But why am I unable to
do as he did? Why does evil attract me to itself?"--"Get down on your
knees and confess; if you believe in evil it is because your ways have
been evil."--"If my ways were evil, was it my fault? Why did the
good betray me?"--"Because you are in the shadow, would you deny
the existence of light? If there are traitors, why are you one of
them?"--"Because I am afraid of becoming the dupe."--"Why do you spend
your nights in watching? Why are you alone now?"--"Because I think,
I doubt, and I fear."--"When will you offer your prayer?"--"When I
believe. Why have they lied to me?"--"Why do you lie, coward! at this
very moment? Why not die if you can not suffer?"

Thus spoke and groaned within me two voices, voices that were defiant
and terrible; and then a third voice cried out! "Alas! Alas! my
innocence! Alas! Alas! the days that were!"

CHAPTER V. TRUTH AT LAST

What a frightful weapon is human thought! It is our defense and our
safeguard, the most precious gift that God has made us. It is ours and
it obeys us; we may launch it forth into space, but, once outside of our
feeble brains, it is gone; we can no longer control it.

While I was deferring the time of our departure from day to day I was
gradually losing strength, and, although I did not perceive it, my vital
forces were slowly wasting away. When I sat at table I experienced a
violent distaste for food; at night two pale faces, those of Brigitte
and Smith, pursued me through frightful dreams. When they went to the
theatre in the evening I refused to go with them; then I went alone,
concealed myself in the parquet, and watched them. I pretended that I
ha