"I mean that you easily forget. We are face to face; you can't lie. Have I ever told you that I loved you?"
"No—never," she admitted, closing her eyes agonised to have to admit it.
"Have I ever promised to love you?"
"No—never."
"Well, then, according to the laws of love, I've not deceived you, my dear Anna. My heart has never belonged to you, therefore it's not been taken from you. I promised nothing, therefore I owe you nothing."
"It's true. You're right, Cesare," she said; draining this new cup of bitterness that he had distilled for her.
"Perhaps you will speak to me of the laws of the land. Very good; according to the law a man and wife are required to be mutually faithful. A magistrate would say that I had betrayed you. But consider a little. Make an effort of memory, Anna, and recall the agreement I proposed to you that evening at Sorrento, before committing my grand blunder. I told you that I wished to remain absolutely free, free as a bachelor; and you consented. Is it true or not true?"
"It is true. I consented."
"I told you that I would tolerate no interference on your part with my relations with other women; and remember, Anna, you consented. Is that true or untrue?"