And later on, in the evening, when he was alone in his room at Neuilly, his heart-pain became intolerable.

Those words tortured him.

Why was it that they had not caused him any suffering when they were spoken, why had he greeted them with a smile?
And why had such cruel anguish slowly followed?
All at once an idea sprang up in his mind, and became an overwhelming certainty.

He loved Marie, he loved her as a lover, with a love so intense that he might die from it.
With this sudden consciousness of his passion everything became clear and plain.

He had been going perforce towards that love ever since he had first met Marie.