e continued:
"What I suffered on that boat I should be ashamed to tell you."
She felt he spoke the truth.
"Oh, I forgive you--I have reflected alone a great deal. I passed many
nights and days on the divan of the deckhouse, turning always the same
ideas in my mind. For six months I have thought more than I ever did in
my life. Do not laugh. There is nothing like suffering to enlarge the
mind. I understand that if I have lost you the fault is mine. I should
have known how to keep you. And I said to myself: 'I did not know. Oh; if
I could only begin again!' By dint of thinking and of suffering, I
understand. I know now that I did not sufficiently share your tastes and
your ideas. You are a superior woman. I did not notice it before, because
it was not for that that I loved you. Without suspecting it, I irritated
you."
She shook her head. He insisted.
"Yes, yes, I often wounded your feelings. I did not consider your
delicacy. There were misunderstandings between us. The reason was, we
have not the same temperament. And then, I did not know how to amuse you.
I did not know how to give you the amusement you need. I did not procure
for you the pleasures that a woman as intelligent as you requires."
So simple and so true was he in his regrets and in his pain, she found
him worthy of sympathy. She said to him, softly:
"My friend, I never had reason to complain of you."
He continued:
"All I have said to you is true. I understood this when I was alone in my
boat. I have spent hours on it to which I would not condemn my worst
enemy. Often I felt like throwing myself into the water. I did not do it.
Was it because I have religious principles or family sentiments, or
because I have no courage? I do not know. The reason is, perhaps, that
from a distance you held me to life. I was attracted by you, since I am
here. For two days I have been watching you. I did not wish to reappear
at your house. I should not have found you alone; I should not have been
able to talk to you. And then you would have been forced to receive me. I
thought it better to speak to you in the street. The idea came to me on
the boat. I said to myself: 'In the street she will listen to me only if
she wishes, as she wished four years ago in the park of Joinville, you
know, under the statues, near the crown.'"
He continued, with a sigh:
"Yes, as at Joinville, since all is to be begun again. For two days I
have been watching you. Yesterday it w
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