“And the most formidable part of it is this: I cannot blame him for
doing it. The jealousy of husbands is often nothing more than self-love.
When they find they have been deceived, their vanity is offended; but
their heart remains whole. But in this case it is very different. He
not only loved his wife, he worshipped her. She was his happiness, life
itself. When I took her from him, I robbed him of all he had,--yes, of
all! I never knew what adultery meant till I saw him overcome with shame
and rage. He was left without any thing in a moment. His wife had a
lover: his favorite daughter was not his own! I suffer terribly; but
it is nothing, I am sure, in comparison with what he suffers. And you
expect, that, holding a weapon in his hand, he should not use it? It is
a treacherous, dishonest weapon, to be sure; but have I been frank and
honest? It would be a mean, ignoble vengeance, you will say; but what
was the offence? In his place, I dare say, I should do as he does.”