He says
“No.” “No.” “No.” How did your lips learn to say that word so easily? They are not made to say such a word. They are too young, too red, to say “No” to Life. When you say that word, the world grows black. The stars go out, the leaves wither, the heart stops beating. It is a word that kills. It is the word of Death. Dare you say it again? Answer me, do we love each other? . . . And tears. Tears are a slave’s answer. Speak. Defend yourself. Why do you stay here? Why do you deny yourself happiness? Why won’t you come with me? Always the same phrase that means nothing. Ah, Violante, lady of few words, you know how to baffle argument. If I could only make you speak! If I could only see what the thoughts are that darken your will!