I despised
him for considering me at such a moment. I didn't understand. _My_
opinion, _my_ feeling, was more important to Paul than the rest of the
world. So, after all, I _was_ the instrument.
VERA
But why didn't you just get up and go?
JEAN
As soon as I saw how much it meant to Paul, I tried to. But it was too
late.... We sat there arguing until three in the morning. An orgy of tears
and self-immolation for us both.... I suppose he might have explained to
the director afterward and arranged another concert, but those things are
never the same the second time. Well, I forced myself to get rid of that
feeling about his bad luck. How I ever succeeded I don't know, for Paul
caught my mood and began to believe it himself. But somehow I did. And
then I made him give up his violin and begin composing. Of course we had
to have money for that. I wrote a relative and demanded, point blank,
shamelessly, two thousand dollars. I felt it was my restitution to Paul. I
received the money. What the relative thought, I don't know. I suppose he
paid it to avoid getting another such letter from me.
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