"You hurt me!"

However, he followed his idea; he led her to the table, on which, near
the brushes, were an ink-stand, and several leaves of letter-paper
ornamented with a large blue vignette, representing the facade of the
hotel, with innumerable windows.

"Write what I am about to dictate to you. I will call somebody to take
the letter."

And as she resisted, he made her fall on her knees. Proud and
determined, she said:

"I can not, I will not."

"Why?"

"Because--do you wish to know?--because I love him."

Brusquely he released her. If he had had his revolver at hand, perhaps
he would have killed her. But almost at once his anger was dampened by
sadness; and now, desperate, he was the one who wished to die.

"Is what you say true? Is it possible?"

"How do I know? Can I say? Do I understand? Have I an idea,
a sentiment, about anything?"

With an effort she added: