What good has it done me to mourn for you eternally in the secret recesses of my heart? -- only to make a woman of thirty-nine look like a woman of fifty.Why, having recognized you, and I the only one to do so -- why was Iable to save my son alone? Ought I not also to have rescued the man that I had accepted for a husband, guilty though he were? Yet I let him die! What do I say? Oh, merciful heavens, was I not accessory to his death by my supine insensibility, by my contempt for him, not remembering, or not willing to remember, that it was for my sake he had become a traitor and a perjurer? In what am I benefited by accompanying my son so far, since I now abandon him, and allow him to depart alone to the baneful climate of Africa?
