"What are you saying, Tullio? Is it this poor baby's fault? Be just!"
Assuredly my mother had remarked the sincerity of my aversion. I could not succeed in restraining myself. All my nerves rebelled.
"Impossible now! Impossible! Let me be, mother. It will pass."
My tone was resolute. I trembled all over. There was a lump in my throat; the muscles of my face contracted. After so many hours of violent tension my entire being required relaxation. I believe that a great burst of sobs would have done me good, but the lump in my throat was too firm.
"You grieve me greatly, Tullio," said my mother.
"So you exact that I kiss him?" I burst out, beside myself.
And I approached the cradle, bent over the infant and kissed him.
The child awoke. He began to wail, feebly at first, then with increasing fury. I observed that the skin of his face took on a more reddish tint and wrinkled beneath the effort, while his whitish tongue trembled in his wide-open mouth. Although I was at the height of exasperation, I recognized the error committed. I felt the gaze of Federico, Maria, and Natalia fixed upon me.
"Forgive me, mother," I stammered. "I no longer know what I am doing; I am not in my right senses. Forgive me."
She had taken the infant from the cradle, and held it in her arms, without succeeding in quieting it. The wails went through me, overwhelmed me.