Sometimes when I sit here I hear it all
played, an orchestra ... new harmonies, pure emotion.... The wonder and
then the pain of it are almost unbearable.
VERA
Ah, Jean, I begin to understand.
JEAN
Over in London there are half a dozen men and women who caught a glimpse
of Paul as he really was. In Munich there are half a dozen more. He was at
his best in a studio among friends with a congenial atmosphere. _They_
knew... but what is that?
I tell you, Vera, the only way I can explain it all is by seeing two
forces, two moralities; the morality of God and the morality of nature.
Perhaps in some people they both work together for the same end, but they
don't always.... In the sight of heaven, Paul was an apostle of harmony.
In the sight of nature, he was the seed too many on the tree, the bird
wrongly colored in the forest. I sit among these things, the fast-ebbing
beats of his memory, thinking of what he might have been for others as he
was to me, and my heart breaks. Our unhappiness? A cloud passing before
the sun--nothing more. And during this past year I have come to love him
all over again, not as mate but as mother.
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