"I want you to know that I'm sorry for the way that things turned out. I'm truly sorry, and if there's anything I can do, in a meaningful sense . . ."

She shut her eyes, breathing deeply again. "Thank you, Charles. But I really think you've done enough already."

He lit another cigarette and sat down beside her on the cot. She had drawn her knees up to her chest, her bare thighs and shoulders seeming even more pronounced against this overweight man in his shirtsleeves.

"By the way," he said suddenly, "your painter friend Gray has been causing us no end of trouble, and now it seems he's disappeared. Run off, no doubt, with his artist friends . . ."

She let her head fall to her knees. "Why are you doing this, Charles? Why are you trying to hurt me?"

She heard him exhaling more cigarette smoke, then felt his finger toying with her hair. "I'm not trying to hurt you, Margaretha. I'm simply trying to keep you from hurting others. I think you can understand that."

She wanted to push his hand away, but couldn't seem to lift her arm. It must have been the heat.

"I also want you to know that I'm not personally angry with you," he said. "Actually, I don't believe I could ever be angry with you. Of course, I can't expect you to feel the same way . . . but perhaps you'll come to see the truth. I do still love you very much." His hand slid from her hair to the nape of her neck, clinging for a moment like a crab before she finally was able to remove it.

Now he was running it across his eyes. Possibly he was crying? Or then again it might just have been the perspiration. After a while she said, "Nicky was right. You're mad." And, to herself, pathetic, which was even worse. He did not, however, appear to have heard.

"Well, I should be going now, Margaretha. It was awfully good talking to you. Perhaps I'll come again before the trial ends."

There was very little left of her trial now, hardly more than five hours of a sweltering Wednesday. It began again in the morning with a few remarks from Somprou, then proceeded with a reading of statements from absent witnesses. In all, more than half of those called did not appear—some actually restrained, most simply unwilling to become involved. Of those who remained there were only a manicurist, a fortune-teller, and a casual lover from better days.