"Be patient—this is hard for me—"
And as if fearing to exhaust that patience for which she was begging, the woman began hurriedly, and therefore without order, to say:
"A common misfortune has struck us—thou hast been, Aloysius, so kind, so immensely loving to our poor Cara—when I go from here with, thou wilt be so much alone—Maryan has some project of travel—so perhaps—if it were possible—if thou couldst forget the past—I do not know even—forgive—if thou shouldst wish, I and Irene would remain—"
While speaking she gained some courage; some internal motive was to be felt in her, which forced her to speak.
"I will not try to justify myself before thee, Aloysius, nor to deny that I am guilty—I will say only this, that I, too, was unhappy, and that my fault has caused me dreadful suffering. I wished to say to thee, Aloysius, that, perhaps, even on thy part also, for thou didst not know me—that is, thou didst know my face, my eyes, my hair, the sound of my voice, and they pleased thee, hence thou didst make me thy wife, but thou didst not know my soul, and didst not wish to be its confidant, or its defender. This soul was not devoid of good desires; not without some small beginning of heartfelt happiness—though it was the unfortunate soul of a woman attacked by wealth and idleness. But thou, Aloysius, didst make a rich woman of a girl who, though poor and a toiler, held her head high—thou didst make her a rich and unoccupied woman, who—was left to herself at all times. Still, it was thy wish and demand that I should represent thy name in society with the utmost effect; thy name; thy firm, as thou didst call it."
She was silent, for her eyes met his smile which was bristling with pin-points.
"It seems to me," said he, "that in this tragic piece which it pleases thee to play, the role of villain will fall to me."
"Oh, no!" cried she, clasping her hands. "Oh, no! I did not wish to complain of thee in any way, or to make reproaches—I have not the right—but—I think that since all of us in this world are guilty in some way, and life is so sad, and all is so—poor, it would perhaps be better to forgive each other—to yield, to renounce. This is what I think, and though my pride is wounded this long time because all that I must use is thine, I yield, and I will use it, though my only wish is to go from here, to withdraw from the world, to vanish forever in some lonely corner—"
Her voice quivered, shaken by sobbing, but she restrained herself and finished:
"I will renounce this desire, and remain, if—only thou wish—if only thou wilt not despise me—"