I am innocent, I am innocent!"
They looked at one another in terror, exhausted with fatigue, fearing
they had evoked the corpse of the drowned man. Their quarrels invariably
ended in this way; they protested their innocence, they sought to
deceive themselves, so as to drive away their bad dreams. They made
constant efforts, each in turn, to reject the responsibility of the
crime, defending themselves as though they were before a judge and jury,
and accusing one another.
The strangest part of this attitude was that they did not succeed in
duping themselves by their oaths. Both had a perfect recollection of all
the circumstances connected with the murder, and their eyes avowed what
their lips denied.
Their falsehoods were puerile, their affirmations ridiculous. It was the
wordy dispute of two wretches who lied for the sake of lying, without
succeeding in concealing from themselves that they did so. Each took the
part of accuser in turn, and although the prosecution they instituted
against one another proved barren of result, they began it again every
evening with cruel tenacity.
They were aware that they would prove nothing, that they would not
succeed in effacing the past, and still they attempted this task, still
they returned to the charge, spurred on by pain and terror, vanquished
in advance by overwhelming reality.
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