Chapter Forty-Seven
Putting Auguste Monjoin’s unfinished letter on his desk, Denis tried to analyse his feelings. But his thoughts drifted away quickly. He could not help but muse about the method of Monjoin’s suicide. What peculiar state of mind enabled a man to take his own life in such a despairing way? He maimed himself even more. There was no way back.
The first layer of his feelings was easily recognizable: pity and reluctant understanding for a man who had hidden his homosexual nature and tried to be a good husband. To be dealt such a horrendous card by fate and, after that, to be extremely penalized, could make the bravest man crumble.
Denis looked at himself in the mirror of his cupboard. This time, the empty sleeve didn’t feel as oppressive as it used to. He unbuttoned his shi
