“Just so, just so.—But these memories crowd upon me and I cannot shake them off. They are too strong for me.—I remember one day, after several days of disagreement, he came into the room quite furious. It was the first time I ever saw him in a passion, and it frightened me excessively. He spoke very violently, took my hand and shook it as if he wanted to wrench it off. I fell on my knees.—I fancy I can feel his hand now with a grip like a vice; oh! if I really felt it I believe it would make me wish to live!—He said cruel things to me, but even though he was so angry, he could not be brutal. This sudden fit of rage was in fact a joy to me, for it showed me how much he loved me; but as I had no doubts of his fidelity I did not choose to make any show of affection. I knew very well that he would not hurt me, so I said to him: ‘You may kill me if you like, I do not care; but give me an hour—I am dividing my clothes among the poor.’ That was the truth; above a hundred poor wretches were waiting at the door. I was so proud of my charitable action that I could afford to despise the tyrant.—And he said: ‘It is horrible to have a wound aching in one’s soul and not to be able to return blow for blow, to take the smallest revenge, to kill or even to punish....’ But ah! he was splendid in his wrath.”
“Enough of this,” said the priest with sudden decision “I cannot allow another word of these memories which imperil your soul. You, who could then struggle to keep your spirit pure, will surely not succumb now.”
“No, I will not succumb”—said María, but there was a look of anguish in her white face which betrayed what it cost her to break the mysterious chains that held her even in this supreme hour. “I have mortified myself indeed, and fought many battles to divest my mind of the sense of his attractions, and see the bare and hideous skeleton of the man. It was you who advised me to think of him as a skeleton—and it has been my salvation.—For my soul would inevitably have been lost.—Father, would it not?—if I had yielded to his persuasions. It would have led me into sin—Father, would it not?—He would have triumphed over me spiritually speaking and have led my soul astray—Father, would he not?” And at each question, betraying her doubts and inward struggle, the priest replied by an emphatic sign of assent. “I said to him: ‘I am yours in all indifferent matters, but my spirit you shall never subdue.’—Sometimes I forced myself to pass weeks without saying a word to him—I was right, was I not?”
“My poor unfortunate friend,” said Paoletti with a sigh, “you are asking me things you have asked a thousand times before. Let us turn over this gloomy page which we have amply discussed already, and discourse of God and of forgiveness....”
“Of forgiveness!” said María raising her head without moving her body. “Of what forgiveness?”
Her eyes had the wild glare that prognosticates delirium; she suddenly sat up in bed and clasping her hands to her head, exclaimed:
“I do not forgive, I do not forgive—I cannot—my husband only—I forgive him. Leon I will forgive you if you will return to me.—Not her, not her....” She could say no more; she threw up her arms and fell back as if she were dying.
Paoletti gazed at her in horror; María kept her eyes fixed on his with a crazy glare. The priest felt the cold sweat start on his brow, and his heart beat as though it would burst his ribs. Presently María closed her eyes; the crisis wore itself out in exhaustion, sighs, and sobs. Paoletti said in tones which he meant to be awful:
“Thou Soul! that I believed to be victorious, and that art yet yielding to the Foe: God will not forgive those who show no forgiveness!” And falling on his knees, he took the crucifix between his hands and prayed in silence. He was in truth in deep distress—a shepherd striving to save his favourite lamb. For some time María neither spoke nor moved. At length, with a deep sigh, she said in accents of despair: “I am a miserable sinner and cannot hope to be saved.”
The hapless tortured soul was struggling like a shipwrecked wretch, one hand stretched up to Heaven and the other feeling for earth.