But, strange as it may seem, I felt neither anger nor jealousy, but a terrible sense of sorrow and foreboding.  I did not suspect, and yet I doubted.  The mind of man is so strangely formed that, with what he sees and in spite of what he sees, he can conjure up a hundred objects of woe.  In truth his brain resembles the dungeons of the Inquisition, where the walls are covered with so many instruments of torture that one is dazed, and asks whether these horrible contrivances he sees before him are pincers or playthings.  Tell me, I say, what difference is there in saying to my mistress:  “All women deceive,” or, “You deceive me?”

What passed through my mind was perhaps as subtle as the finest sophistry; it was a sort of dialogue between the mind and the conscience.  “If I should lose Brigitte?” I said to the mind.  “She departs with you,” said the conscience.  “If she deceives me?”—­“How can she deceive you?  Has she not made out her will asking for prayers for you?”—­“If Smith loves her?”—­“Fool!  What does it matter so long as you know that she loves you?”—­“If she loves me why is she sad?”—­“That is her secret, respect it.”—­“If I take her away with me, will she be happy?”—­“Love her and she will be.”—­“Why, when that man looks at her, does she seem to fear to meet his glance?”—­“Because she is a woman and he is young.”—­“Why does that young man turn pale when she looks at him?”—­“Because he is a man and she is beautiful.”—­“Why, when I went to see him did he throw himself into my arms, and why did he weep and beat his head with his hands?”—­“Do not seek to know what you must remain ignorant of.”—­“Why can I not know these things?”—­“Because you are miserable and weak, and all mystery is of God.”

“But why is it that I suffer?  Why is it that my soul recoils in terror?”—­“Think of your father and do good.”—­“But why am I unable to do as he did?  Why does evil attract me to itself?”—­“Get down on your knees and confess; if you believe in evil it is because your ways have been evil.”—­“If my ways were evil, was it my fault?  Why did the good betray me?”—­“Because you are in the shadow, would you deny the existence of light?  If there are traitors, why are you one of them?”—­“Because I am afraid of becoming the dupe.”—­“Why do you spend your nights in watching?  Why are you alone now?”—­“Because I think, I doubt, and I fear.”—­“When will you offer your prayer?”—­“When I believe.  Why have they lied to me?”—­“Why do you lie, coward! at this very moment?  Why not die if you can not suffer?”

Thus spoke and groaned within me two voices, voices that were defiant and terrible; and then a third voice cried out!  “Alas!  Alas! my innocence!  Alas!  Alas! the days that were!”

CHAPTER V

TRUTH AT LAST

What a frightful weapon is human thought!  It is our defense and our safeguard, the most precious gift that God has made us.  It is ours and it obeys us; we may launch it forth into space, but, once outside of our feeble brains, it is gone; we can no longer control it.