“You were unable to force yourself to be more moderate?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then I should like to teach you.”
“And I should not like to learn, from you. For it is and always will be my best happiness to be immoderate also where you are concerned, immoderate in the life of my real self, my soul, just as I have now been immoderate in the life of my apparent self.”
Her eyes grew dim; she shook her head, her hand still upon his shoulder:
“That is not right,” she said, in deep distress.
“It is a joy ... for both those beings. I have to be like that, I have to be immoderate: they both demand it.”
“But that is not right,” she insisted. “Pure enjoyment ...”
“The lowest, but also the highest....”
A shiver passed through her, a deadly fear for him.