The words of the young woman entered her mind,
slow and plaintive, as an irritating ditty. At first, she fancied the
murderers inflicted this kind of torture on her out of sheer diabolical
cruelty. Her sole means of defence was to close her eyes, as soon as her
niece knelt before her, then although she heard, she did not see her.
Therese, at last, had the impudence to kiss her aunt. One day, in a fit
of repentance, she feigned she had perceived a gleam of mercy in the
eyes of the paralysed woman; and she dragged herself along on her knees,
she raised herself up, exclaiming in a distracted tone:
"You forgive me! You forgive me!"
Then she kissed the forehead and cheeks of the poor old creature, who
was unable to throw her head backward so as to avoid the embrace. The
cold skin on which Therese placed her lips, caused her violent disgust.
She fancied this disgust, like the tears of remorse, would be an
excellent remedy to appease her nerves; and she continued to kiss the
impotent old woman daily, by way of penitence, and also to relieve
herself.
"Oh! How good you are!" she sometimes exclaimed. "I can see my tears
have touched you. Your eyes are full of pity. I am saved.
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