—we—I thought we—I didn't want to efface the stink really
(rapidly now, tense, erect, her hands gripped again into fists on her lap)
You know: just the marriage would be enough: not the Embassy and the Crillon and Cap Ferrat but just to kneel down, the two of us, and say 'We have sinned, forgive us.' And then maybe there would be the love this time—the peace, the quiet, the no shame that I . . .didn't—missed that other time
(falters again, then rapidly again, glib and succinct)
Love, but more than love too: not depending on just love to hold two people together, make them better than either one would have been alone, but tragedy, suffering, having suffered and caused grief; having something to have to five with even when, because you knew both of you could never forget it. And then I began to believe something even more than that: that there was something even better, stronger, than tragedy to hold two people together: forgiveness. Only that seemed to be wrong. Only maybe it wasn't the forgiveness that was wrong, but the gratitude; and maybe the only thing worse than having to give gratitude constantly all the time, is having to accept it
STEVENS
Which is exactly backward. What was wrong wasn't
GOVERNOR
Gavin.
