“A duty?” she cried. “Have I any duties toward a brother who has never occupied himself with me? My only duty is where my heart is.”
“But you have promised. I have promised for you. I have said that you were rational, and you are not going to belie my words.”
“Rational? It is you who are not rational. It is not rational to separate when to do so would make us both die of grief.”
And with an angry gesture she closed the discussion, saying:
“Besides, what is the use of talking about it? There is nothing simpler; it is only necessary to say a single word. Answer me. Are you tired of me? Do you wish to send me away?”
He uttered a cry.
“Send you away! I! Great God!”
“Then it is all settled. If you do not send me away I shall remain.”
She laughed now, and, running to her desk, wrote in red pencil across her brother’s letter two words—“I refuse;” then she called Martine and insisted upon her taking the letter back at once. Pascal was radiant; a wave of happiness so intense inundated his being that he let her have her way. The joy of keeping her with him deprived him even of his power of reasoning.
But that very night, what remorse did he not feel for having been so cowardly! He had again yielded to his longing for happiness. A deathlike sweat broke out upon him when he saw her in imagination far away; himself alone, without her, without that caressing and subtle essence that pervaded the atmosphere when she was near; her breath, her brightness, her courageous rectitude, and the dear presence, physical and mental, which had now become as necessary to his life as the light of day itself. She must leave him, and he must find the strength to die of it. He despised himself for his want of courage, he judged the situation with terrible clear-sightedness. All was ended. An honorable existence and a fortune awaited her with her brother; he could not carry his senile selfishness so far as to keep her any longer in the misery in which he was, to be scorned and despised. And fainting at the thought of all he was losing, he swore to himself that he would be strong, that he would not accept the sacrifice of this child, that he would restore her to happiness and to life, in her own despite.