"Still ... still ... it cannot be! I should not have even time for it all in Paris; it is absurd!"
And the idea that he was deceiving himself came intermittently charging back.
"Still, there must be no haggling; in ecclesiastical language 'ten' means ten beads; no doubt ... but I remember very well that after he pronounced the word rosary, the father expressed himself thus: 'you will say ten,' that means ten rosaries, for otherwise he would have specified ten ... of a rosary."
And so he thrust and parried with himself—"The father had no need to put the dots on all the i's, if he were using an ordinary phrase, known to everyone. This cavilling about the value of a word is ridiculous."
He tried to get rid of this torment by appealing to his reason; and suddenly there came out some argument which unsettled him.
He found out that it was through cowardice, idleness, desire for contradiction and the necessity of rebelling, that he did not wish to wind his ten reels. "Of the two interpretations I have chosen the one which would relieve me of all effort and trouble, it is really too easy!—that alone proves that I deceive myself when I try to persuade myself that the prior only ordered me to pick out ten beads!"
"Then a Pater, ten Aves, and a Gloria are nothing; it is not heavy as a penance!"
And then he answered himself, "But it is much for you, for you cannot even attempt so much without wandering."
He was turning on himself without advancing a step.
"I have never felt such hesitation," he said, trying to pull himself together; "I am not stupid and yet I am fighting against my good sense, for it is not a matter of doubt, I know it, I ought to say ten Aves and not one more!"