“No. I never did.”
“You never loved me?” he stammered, standing up and leaning heavily on the back of the chair. “You said you did—why did you marry me?”
“I suppose I thought I loved you—because I was lonely, poor; because I didn’t understand what love was; because I didn’t love anyone else; because I didn’t know any other man. If we’d gone on living down there in the country, I daresay I should have gone on vegetating. But you dragged me up here, and I’ve woken up. You said I was selfish. What about you? You knew what you were bringing me to and never stopped to think whether it would be good for me, this dull, stupid life, with nothing to care for, nothing to hope for, nothing to do.”
“You never really loved me? Oh, my God, why am I punished like this?”
He dropped his arms helplessly, standing before her, looking at her bewildered, as though struggling to shake himself free from some oppressive dream.
“Selfish again,” she said. “Your punishment! What about mine? You’ve often preached that there is no real happiness in life but to do your duty. Haven’t you done yours?”
“I can’t have.... What can I do?”
“Free me from this existence. Go away from here; somewhere there is life——”
“You know I can’t leave my work.”
“Others can do it.”