As he lay in bed, unable to sleep, he already experienced a return of his abominable torments--the negation of everything, the feeling that everything was useless, that the world had no significance, and that life was only worthy of being cursed and denied.

And then the shudder born of the thought of death returned to him.

Ah! to die, to die without even having lived! The struggle was a frightful one.

Until daybreak he sobbed in martyrdom.
Why had he taken off his cassock?
He had done so at a word from Marie; and now another word from her gave him the despairing idea of donning it once more.

One could not escape from so fast a prison.