It was perhaps the satisfaction of an aspiration, good in itself, of a long-smouldering revolt against the life of deception she had imposed upon him; but in respect of his manhood, it was mean.

For good is what men are, when they are doing good.

It cannot be the good itself, which, though it profit many, may be so done as to stab and wound the secret enemy of the man's own heart.

The good such a man does the whole world is but the knife in his hand wherewith to hurt the one.
But Bosio hurt only himself, and little, at that, for he was almost past hurting; and Matilde never knew what he felt.

And though he suffered most of all, perhaps, between the beginning and the end, there was no one moment of all his suffering which was like the agony of the strong and evil woman when she had driven him away, and was quite alone.