Chapter 17

I made my way out of the town and struck out straight into the open country. I was devoured by anger, frenzied anger. I hurled reproaches at myself. How was it I had not seen the reason that had forced Acia to change the place of our meeting; how was it I did not appreciate what it must have cost her to go to that old woman; how was it I had not kept her? Alone with her, in that dim, half-dark room I had had the force, I had had the heart to repulse her, even to reproach her.� Now her image simply pursued me. I begged her forgiveness. The thought of that pale face, those wet and timid eyes, of her loose hair falling on the drooping neck, the light touch of her head against my breast maddened me. �Yours�—I heard her whisper. �I acted from conscientious motives,� I assured myself.� Not true! Did I really desire such a termination? Was I capable of parting from her? Could I really do without her?

�Madman! madman!� I repeated with exasperation.�

Meanwhile night was coming on. I walked with long strides towards the house where Acia lived.