Lewis made a movement of impatience to avoid a sermon. "Everything that happens is my fault," continued Irene, "even to have agreed to marry was wrong of me; and yet people say I am stubborn! I had an idea that ... I want to explain something to you which you daren't admit to me: that you married to be happy and quiet, not for your house to be turned into a bank, a counting-house; what did I say? Two Banks. To-day I am your competitor, and to-morrow? Perhaps in marrying me you were only seeking revenge, and having got it, you only asked to live in peace; in your heart, Lewis, you care for me much less than you think. Unfortunately, it's I who love you now ... (she stopped him interrupting), but that is my own affair. Give up work? You have seen me try, I can't go on doing nothing. I am a Greek, and for me every dream, every thought, must materialize. My ancestors of the Islands lived for centuries in the midst of carnage and outlawry on that very island on which you could not live. I, too, am an island, something very primitive and remote, and you cannot live there either. I hate everything which is merely amusing or childish. Vice, whether it be splendid or convenient, does not attract me. I have behind me centuries of trade, of liberty, of emigration.... Let me go away in my turn ..." Lewis took hold of Irene's hair, fine as magneto wires. "You would leave me like this ... without warning? When we are such friends, Irene?" "No, not friends. I haven't time to wait for the affections of old age. Don't make any mistake. You are not a Russian to stagger across the flow of your feelings, crying out: 'Everything I touch crumbles.' Don't turn your back on the truth. The motto of humanity should be: 'Behold the truth, now everyone for himself!' The Greeks are the only exception. What are we, we two? During the day we are enemies. During the night ... yes, during the night also, but there we cannot choose our weapons. We can't go on like that. It will become too much of a strain. The path we are following is strewn with unhappiness! You with your character: civilized, nervous, often unreliable; and I with mine, full of savage instincts, passionate ..." Lewis did not reply. This child was very dear to him at heart. He took her in his arms and passed his hand between her dress and her body. "Irene, your name does mean Peace, doesn't it?" Irene remained powerless, her head on Lewis' knees, like a little Greek city intoxicated by its tyrant. XI THUS Lewis realized that Irene, with all her pride, could not resist him. He thought "They say that modern women cannot find men; they will always find plenty to make love to them, but what they won't find is the man who has time to sit beside them and put his arm round them and say: 'Why are you unhappy?'"