all! On such occasions, literature and art are poor
counsellors, they are apt to bring you back to love
again. Incessant activity of your body, hard physical
labor, your flesh worn out by crushing fatigue, your
head lashed and made giddy by the wind, by the rain,
by storms! I tell you, you will come back from that
place not only cured but stronger than ever and better
armed for struggle. And you shall have paid your
debt to that monster. You say, you shall have paid
it with your fortune? Well what of it, that's nothing.
Why, I envy you and wish I could go with you. Come,
my dear Mintie, a little courage! Go!"
"Yes, Lirat, you are right. I must go away."
"Well go then!"
"I am going away tomorrow, I swear!"
"Tomorrow? Ah, tomorrow! She is going to come back, isn't that the idea? And you will throw yourself in her arms again. No, go now!"
"Let me write to her. I can't leave her like this, without a word, without saying good bye to her. Lirat just think! In spite of all this suffering, in spite of all this shame, there still are happy memories, blissful hours. She is not wicked. . . she simply does not know. . . that's all. . . but she loves me. I shall go away, I promise you I shall. But give me just one more day! One more day! One day is not much, especially since I shall not see her any more! Ah, one more day!"
"No, go now!"
"Lirat! My good Lirat!"
"No!"
"But I have no money! How do you expect me to go without money?"
"I have enough left to last you over the trip; I'll send it to you there. Go!"
"At least let me get my things ready!"
