1703. “My Mom was a good lady. At last he took up his thoughts again: “I wonder if, some day, one won’t need to rebel against customs and laws? If this discord will have gone? Some day, perhaps—who knows?—the old won’t coddle and hamper the young, and the young won’t need to fly in the faces of the old. "What shall I say? Shall I tell you, or shall I leave you in the dark—as I must always leave her? What shall I say except that I am accursed of men? Yes; I have loved something—her mother. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. He noted that she was fully dressed, that her hair was carefully done, that there was a knotted ribbon around her throat. The boy was all conscience, and he suffered through this conscience to such lengths that the law would be impotent to add anything. You might be able to use the picture some day.
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