"Lift me," said Maria to Federico.
Federico raised her up in his arms, and I saw the beautiful rosy mouth of my daughter get ready to kiss before she succeeded in touching the forehead. I saw her long locks play on the whiteness of the clothes.
Federico looked at me. But I did not smile.
"Me, too! Me, too!"
Natalia now clung to the edge of the cradle.
"Gently!"
Federico raised her too. And again I saw the long locks play on the whiteness of the bed linen, in the movement she made in bending over. This spectacle had petrified me, and my look certainly expressed my emotion. These kisses from lips so dear to me had not removed from the intruder his repugnant aspect; they had, on the contrary, rendered him more odious to me. I felt it would be impossible for me to touch that strange flesh, to make any gesture resembling paternal love. My mother observed me with uneasiness.
"You do not kiss him?" she asked.
"No, mother, no. He has done too much harm to Juliana. I cannot forgive him...."
I recoiled with an instinctive movement, a movement of manifest disgust. My mother remained for a moment stupefied, speechless.