"
I tried to interrupt her.
"Allow me to continue," she said, "the time has come when I must speak.
Let us see, why do you doubt me? For six months, in thought, in body, and
in soul, I have belonged to no one but you. Of what do you dare suspect
me? Do you wish to set out for Switzerland? I am ready, as you see. Do
you think you have a rival? Send him a letter that I will sign and you
will direct. What are we doing? Where are we going? Let us decide. Are we
not always together? Very well, then why would you leave me? I can not be
near you and separated from you at the same moment. It is necessary to
have confidence in those we love. Love is either good or bad: if good, we
must believe in it; if evil, we must cure ourselves of it. All this, you
see, is a game we are playing; but our hearts and our lives are the
stakes, and it is horrible! Do you wish to die? That would, perhaps, be
better. Who am I that you should doubt me?"
She stopped before the glass.
"Who am I?" she repeated, "who am I? Think of it. Look at this face of
mine."
"Doubt thee!" she cried, addressing her own image; "poor, pale face, thou
art suspected! poor thin cheeks, poor tired eyes, thou and thy tears are
in disgrace. Very well, put an end to thy suffering; let those kisses
that have wasted thee, close thy lids! Descend into the cold earth, poor
trembling body that can no longer support its own weight.
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