He enveloped her in a warm, respectful silence, but, as always, I felt he was master of himself.
"I have always thought of death," she continued in a changed voice.
"One day I confessed to my husband how it haunted me.

He launched out furiously.

He told me I was a neurasthenic and that he must look after me.

He made me promise to be like himself and never think of such things, to be healthy and well-balanced, as he was.
"That was not true.

It was he who suffered from the disease of tranquillity and indifference, a paralysis, a grey malady, and his blindness was an infirmity, and his peace was that of a dog who lives for the sake of living, of a beast with a human face.
"What was I to do?
Pray?
No.