It was as if
he were no longer of the world, no longer one of mankind.
"No, brother, you have not convinced me," said Pierre, who on his side
did not seek to hide his tears, "and it is precisely because I love you
as you love me, with my whole being, my whole soul, that I cannot go
away. It is impossible! You cannot be the madman, the murderer you would
try to be."
"Why not? Am I not free. I have rid my life of all responsibilities, all
ties. . . . I have brought up my sons, they have no further need of me.
But one heart-link remained--Marie, and I have given her to you."
At this a disturbing argument occurred to Pierre, and he passionately
availed himself of it. "So you want to die because you have given me
Marie," said he. "You still love her, confess it!"
"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.
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