"No!" cried Guillaume, "I no longer love her, I swear it. I gave her to
you. I love her no more."

"So you fancied; but you can see now that you still love her, for here
you are, quite upset; whereas none of the terrifying things of which we
spoke just now could even move you. . . . Yes, if you wish to die it is
because you have lost Marie!"

Guillaume quivered, shaken by what his brother said, and in low, broken
words he tried to question himself. "No, no, that any love pain should
have urged me to this terrible deed would be unworthy--unworthy of my
great design. No, no, I decided on it in the free exercise of my reason,
and I am accomplishing it from no personal motive, but in the name of
justice and for the benefit of humanity, in order that war and want may
cease."

Then, in sudden anguish, he went on: "Ah! it is cruel of you, brother,
cruel of you to poison my delight at dying. I have created all the
happiness I could, I was going off well pleased at leaving you all happy,
and now you poison my death. No, no! question it how I may, my heart does
not ache; if I love Marie, it is simply in the same way as I love you."

Nevertheless, he remained perturbed, as if fearing lest he might be lying
to himself; and by degrees gloomy anger came over him: "Listen, that is
enough, Pierre," he exclaimed, "time is flying. . . . For the last time,
go away! I order you to do so; I will have it!"

"I will not obey you, Guillaume. . . . I will stay, and as all my
reasoning cannot save you from your insanity, fire your mine, and I will
die with you."