"I would have provided for you."
To Brother Jacques it seemed that his sword of wrath had been suddenly twisted from his hand. The sweat stood out on his forehead.
"If you were turned away from my door, it was not my hand that opened it."
"I asked for nothing but bread," said Brother Jacques, finding his voice.
"Thirty years ago … I have forgotten. Margot never told me."
"It was easy to forget. I have never known, what love is … from another."
"Have I?" with self-inflicted irony.
"I sought it; you repelled it."
"I knew not how to keep it, that was all. If I should say to you, 'My son, I am sorry. I have lived evilly. I have wronged you; forgive me; I am dying'!" The marquis was breathing with that rapidity which foretells of coming dissolution. "What would you say, Jesuit?"
Brother Jacques stood petrified.