Not knowing whom to strike, they turned in hatred on one another.
They would not openly admit that their marriage was the final punishment of the murder; they refused to listen to the inner voice that shouted out the truth to them, displaying the story of their life before their eyes.

And yet, in the fits of rage that bestirred them, they both saw clearly to the bottom of their anger, they were aware it was the furious impulse of their egotistic nature that had urged them to murder in order to satisfy their desire, and that they had only found in assassination, an afflicted and intolerable existence.

They recollected the past, they knew that their mistaken hopes of lust and peaceful happiness had alone brought them to remorse.

Had they been able to embrace one another in peace, and live in joy, they would not have mourned Camille, they would have fattened on their crime.

But their bodies had rebelled, refusing marriage, and they inquired of themselves, in terror, where horror and disgust would lead them.