“I want to know what is disturbing you.”
“Nothing is disturbing me.”
“Why do you lie? You are very troubled; tell me what is the matter?”
“You would laugh at me.”
“I have never laughed at any one,” she replied patiently.
“Who knows?” he said, looking at her in mad anger, and with the open intention of offending her.
She stopped, and grew pale. But her moral energy was too great.
“He who laughs at the sufferings of another is a knave and a fool; you would not consider me perverse or stupid, Emilio?”
“I am not suffering,” he replied gloomily, rising.
“You are mistaken, my friend. You want to deceive me or yourself. You have some ill in your soul; tell me what it is.”