The invalid fell back and lay still for a while. He remained motionless under the white spread, like a reclining sepulchral statue of marble with a face of bronze. He regained his voice. "God cannot console me." "My son, my son, what are you saying?" "God cannot console me, because He cannot give me what I want." "Ah, my poor child, how far gone you are in your blindness! Why did you have me summoned?" "I had hopes, I had hopes." "Hopes? Hopes of what?" "I do not know. The things we hope for are always the things we do not know." His hands wavered in the air, then fell down again. "Time is passing," said the priest and began all over again. "Tell me the circumstances of your sin. Tell me. When you were alone with this person, when you two were close together, did you talk to each other, or did you keep quiet?" "I do not believe in you," said the man. The priest frowned. "Repent, and tell me that you believe in the Catholic religion, which will save you." But the other man shook his head in utter anguish and denied all his happiness. "Religion--" he began. The priest interrupted brutally. "You are not going to start over again! Keep quiet. All your arguments are worthless. Begin by /believing/ in religion and then you will see what it means. I have come to force you to believe." It was a duel to the end. The two men at the edge of the grave glared at each other like enemies. "You must believe." "I do not believe." "You must." "You would make truth different from what it is by threats." "Yes." He stressed the clear, elementary command. "Whether you are convinced or not, believe. Evidence does not count. The one important thing is faith. God does not deign to convince the incredulous. These are no longer the days of miracles. The only miracle is in our hearts, and it is faith. Believe!" He hurled the same word ceaselessly, like stones. "My son," he continued, more solemnly, standing up, with his large fat hand uplifted, "I exact of you an act of faith." "Get out!" said the man, with hatred. But the priest did not stir. Goaded by the urgence of the case, impelled by the necessity of saving this soul in spite of itself, he became implacable. "You are going to die," he said, "you are going to die. You have only a few more minutes to live. Submit." "No," said the man. The black-robed priest caught hold of both his hands. "Submit. No discussion. You are losing precious time. All your reasoning is of no account. We are alone, you and I before God." He shook his head with the low bulging forehead, the prominent fleshy nose, wide moist nostrils dark with snuff, thin yellow lips like twine tight across two projecting teeth that showed by themselves in the darkness. There were lines on his forehead and between his eyebrows and around his mouth. His cheeks and chin were covered with a grey layer.