"Eternal punishment; if it is not a fable, who has ever earned it better than I am earning it if I go on?"
"It IS a fable; it must be. Philosophers always said so, and now even divines have given it up."
"Her pale face! her pale face! Never mind HIM, look at her. What sort of love is this that shows no pity? Oh, my poor girl, don't look so sad--so pale! What shall I do? Would to God I had never been born, to torture myself and her!"
His good angel fought hard for him that day; fought and struggled and hoped, until the miserable man, torn this way and that, ended the struggle with a blasphemous yell by tearing the letter to atoms.
That fatal act turned the scale.
The next moment he wished he had not done it.
But it was too late. He could not go to her with the fragments. She would see he had intercepted it purposely.
Well, all the better. It was decided. He would not look at her face any more. He could not bear it.