““There’s no help for it,” the nonagenarian kept repeating to whatever I said, to whatever I shouted into her ear concerning the present, the future, the march of events…. In the hope of getting some other response from her, I went on with my apprehensions, my grievances, my complaints. Obtaining only the sempiternal “No help for it,” I came to the end of my patience and left, irritated with myself, irritated with her. What folly, to confide in an idiot! Outside, complete reversal: “But the old woman’s right. How could I fail to realize right away that her refrain had a truth in it, doubtless the most important truth of all, since everything that happens proclaims it and everything in ourselves rejects it?””
