“But I do. I remember everything about it. Most of all, I remember thinking, I don’t want to go back. I meant what I said, professor. I still do.”

I tried to reason with her. “I’m sorry, madame, I can’t accept your proposition. It would be a travesty. Do you really want to forsake your youth, health, and beauty to live the rest of your days in the body of a middle-aged bachelor?”

“I want to live someone else’s life. I don’t want to live mine. It’s too painful. Don’t you understand? When I look in the mirror, I look at myself with someone else’s eyes—the eyes of the man who loved me, the man I lost, the only man I will ever love. It is painful for me to look at myself. I cannot extinguish the love that is in me, and every time I see myself I am reminded of it. In order for me to be fully alive I need to leave this body—or I shall have to take my own life.”

“But you have so much to look forward to, so much still in front of you.”

“Do I? I’m a widow and an orphan. I’m penniless. I have only a basic education. What do you imagine I have to look forward to if love is out of the question? An empty marriage? Raising the children of a husband I don’t love? A convent? Praying to a god I don’t believe in?”

“You could be a nurse—you’re obviously very good at it.”

“There’ll be little need for nurses when the war is over. No, I see nothing in front of me. A long, vast stretch of nothing.” She turned and looked around the room, and as she looked around it I looked too, following her gaze across the bookshelves and the paintings and the certificates on the walls. “Whereas,” she continued, “if I were to spend the rest of my days in your body, even if there were fewer days to live, they’d be better days. I’d be surrounded by books and luxuries. I’d be educated and never want for anything. I’d heal people and move in high circles. If ever I was bored I would simply go back through your memories, and relive for myself one of your many adventures. I imagine there are enough memories in you to last me a lifetime. And of course there is the not inconsiderable advantage that I would be a man.” She turned to me, took my hands in hers, and gave me an imploring look. “What do you say, Professor Balthazar? Please, won’t you set me free?”