throbbing like mine. . . .* And J6us6 went on to tell
of that night when he had rushed round to Madame
Roustan's and had found the bitch crouching near-by
the cot: 'She was savage with love as I now know,5
said Jouse, 'but then I did not comprehend how it
was; I thought that my son might well be in danger.'
At great length he spoke of his brutal deed, con-
cealing nothing — it was like a confession. And when
Christophe besought him to say no more Jouse held
up his hand, compelling attention: 'I want to tell
you the truth, the whole truth; for a very long time
I have wanted to tell you.5 Then Christophe knew
that his father must speak, that the words were
wiping a bruise from his spirit.
And as he listened with tears in his eyes and great
pain in his heart for Mireio's suffering, 'he was con-
scious of that sense of oneness again, suddenly per-
ceiving that the pain in his heart was not for the
suffering Mireio alone, but also for the man who
had caused her to suffer. At that moment Christophe
came very near to a more perfect understanding of
God; but the moment passed, leaving him desolate,
and he hid his face against Jouse's shoulder.