then a third voice cried out! "Alas! Alas! my innocence!
Alas! Alas! the days that were!"

CHAPTER V

TRUTH AT LAST

What a frightful weapon is human thought! It is our defense and our
safeguard, the most precious gift that God has made us. It is ours and it
obeys us; we may launch it forth into space, but, once outside of our
feeble brains, it is gone; we can no longer control it.

While I was deferring the time of our departure from day to day I was
gradually losing strength, and, although I did not perceive it, my vital
forces were slowly wasting away. When I sat at table I experienced a
violent distaste for food; at night two pale faces, those of Brigitte and
Smith, pursued me through frightful dreams. When they went to the theatre
in the evening I refused to go with them; then I went alone, concealed
myself in the parquet, and watched them. I pretended that I had some
business to attend to in a neighboring room and sat there an hour and
listened to them. The idea occurred to me to seek a quarrel with Smith
and force him to fight with me; I turned my back on him while he was
talking; then he came to me with a look of surprise on his face, holding
out his hand. When I was alone in the night and every one slept, I felt a
strong desire to go to Brigitte's desk and take from it her papers. On
one occasion I was obliged to go out of the house in order to resist the
temptation. One day I felt like arming myself with a knife and
threatening to kill them if they did not tell me why they were so sad;
another day I turned all this fury against myself. With what shame do I
write it! And if any one should ask me why I acted thus, I could not
reply.

To see, to doubt, to search, to torture myself and make myself miserable,
to pass entire days with my ear at the keyhole, and the night in a flood
of tears, to repeat over and over that I should die of sorrow, to feel
isolation and feebleness uprooting hope in my heart, to imagine that I
was spying when I was only listening to the feverish beating of my own
pulse; to con over stupid phrases, such as: "Life is a dream, there is
nothing stable here below;" to curse and blaspheme God through misery and
through caprice: that was my joy, the precious occupation for which I
renounced love, the air of heaven, and liberty!

Eternal God, liberty! Yes, there were certain moments when, in spite of
all, I still thought of it. In the midst of my madness, eccentricity, and
stupidity,