“She is going to be married.... married.... do you understand? Going to become the wife of another man. Another man is going to possess her.... do you understand? That man.... you saw him down stairs.... he is going to possess her. She.... Christine.... oh, God help me!.... Perhaps he has seen her, been in her presence, heard her voice, looked into her eyes, touched her hand, kiss.... yes, very likely.... kissed her.... this very day. Perhaps he is with her at this instant.... now.... he, with _her_.... do you understand? While you.... I.... I.... Oh, have mercy on me. Strike me dead.... And to-morrow morning she is going to marry him, to-morrow morning.... going to be married.... Well, well, it's all right It's none of my business. Yes, it's all right. She can do as she pleases. I can't help it. It's not my affair.... Only.... only, I want to know.... I want to know, _why?_ Why is she going to marry him? Only tell me that: why does she want to marry him? Not for love. No! She can't love him. It would be impossible that she should love him. Don't tell me she loves him. No, no! Why, I say, look--look at how she loved me--how passionately, how entirely--with what complete, absolute surrender of herself! Why, after a woman has loved one man that way, I tell you, it is impossible, it is not in nature, for her ever to love another--really love another.... No!.... I don't care what her feeling toward me may be.... hatred.... indifference.... I don't care what.... I know she does not.... I know she never can.... love him.... love any body else. I know it. It would be against nature--impossible.... Oh, it's laughable. The idea! that she should ever feel toward any one as she felt toward me! Such perfect confidence.... such perfect giving of herself!.... Christine! Oh, do you remember, Christine? Do you remember how you loved me? How your eyes burned with love, and your fingers clung with love, and your bosom rose and fell with love, and your voice thrilled with love? And all our unutterable intimate joy? And how you said it was like anguish, it was so keen? And.... and.... Do you remember! And now, do you mean to say that you can ever be like that with another man--not me--with _him_--with any body? Like that? Loving like that? Oh, no, no! Monstrous! Impossible. No, no, you don't love him like that. Nobody could love twice like that. You never can love any one like that--any one but me. Me! I am the only man who has ever tasted that sweetness--who ever shall taste it. He--oh, the poor fool and beggar! He may be married to you a thousand years. He will never taste that--which I have tasted--never get even the perfume of it. Never--never!.... And yet.... and yet, she is going to marry him. Oh, Christine, tell me--for mercy's sake, tell me--why do you marry him? Why does she want to marry him? Oh, there may be a hundred reasons. But not for love. I am sure, not for love. Is marriage a proof of love? Did I marry for love? She pities him. That's it.