"I do not know. I have lost track of the days, lost track of the time."
Father Rielle was now more than professionally interested; he saw that the man before him was in a terrible state of incipient mental collapse.
"Surely you can tell me what day this is?" he cried.
"I cannot."
"Nor yesterday?"
"No."
"Yesterday was Sunday."
"Sunday? The word has no meaning."
"But at least you know where you are, where we both are at this instant."
"Yes, I know that. We are in the church built by M. Poussette."