"No, no, I cannot," she kept repeating.
And when Julio finally triumphed, he found that her thoughts were still
following independently the same line of mental stress.
One afternoon, Marguerite announced that henceforth she would see him
less frequently. She was attending classes now, and had only two free
days.
Desnoyers listened, dumbfounded. Classes? . . . What were her
studies? . . .
She seemed a little irritated at his mocking expression. . . . Yes, she
was studying; for the past week she had been attending classes. Now the
lessons were going to be more regular; the course of instruction had
been fully organized, and there were many more instructors.
"I wish to be a trained nurse. I am distressed over my uselessness.
. . . Of what good have I ever been till now?" . . .
She was silent for a few moments as though reviewing her past.
"At times I almost think," she mused, "that war, with all its horrors,
still has some good in it. It helps to make us useful to our fellowmen.
We look at life more seriously; trouble makes us realize that we have
come into the world for some purpose. . . . I believe that we must not
love life only for the pleasures that it brings us. We ought to find
satisfaction in sacrifice, in dedicating ourselves to others, and this
satisfaction--I don't know just why, perhaps because it is new--appears
to me superior to all other things.
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