Also it was quite possible
that, for the moment, she believed what she said, and that this illusory
sincerity had furnished her with that deep tenderness of accent, those
despairing attitudes, those tears. How well he knew it all! She had a
sentimental hallucination as other people have a physical one. She
forgot that she was acting a lie, was no longer conscious whether she
were living in a world of truth or falsehood, of fiction or reality.
Now this was precisely the moral phenomenon which so constantly took
place in himself. Therefore he could not reproach her without injustice.
But the discovery very naturally deprived him of the hope of deriving
any pleasure from her other than sensual ones. In any case, mistrust
would poison all the sweetness of abandon, all soulful rapture. To
deceive a confiding and faithful heart, dominate a soul by artifice,
possess it wholly and make it vibrate like an instrument--_habere non
haberi_--all this, doubtless, gives intense pleasure; but to deceive,
and know that one is being deceived in return, is a stupid and fruitless
labour, a tiresome and aimless pursuit.
He must therefore work upon Elena to renounce the sisterly scheme and to
return to his arms once more. He must regain possession of this
beautiful woman, extract the utmost possible pleasure from her beauty
and free himself for ever of this passion by reaching the point of
satiety.
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