“What do you want? I cannot help it.”
“Then tell me which of them it is.”
“Never.”
“Think that I can no longer see my children or feel them round me, without having my heart burdened with this doubt. Tell me which of them it is, and I swear that I will forgive you and treat it like the others.”
“I have not the right to do so.”
“Do you not see that I can no longer endure this life, this thought which is wearing me out, or this question which I am constantly asking myself, this question which tortures me each time I look at them? It is driving me mad.”
“Then you have suffered a great deal?” she said.
“Terribly. Should I, without that, have accepted the horror of living by your side, and the still greater horror of feeling and knowing that there is one among them whom I cannot recognize and who prevents me from loving the others?”
“Then you have really suffered very much?” she repeated.
And he replied in a constrained and sorrowful voice: