The End of the Affair

by Graham Greene

‘To expect you to love a man with this.’ He turned his bad cheek towards me. ‘You believe in God,’ he said. ‘That’s easy. You are beautiful. You have no complaint, but why should I love a God who gave a child this?’ ‘Dear Richard,’ I said, ‘there’s nothing so very bad …’ I shut my eyes and put my mouth against the cheek. I felt sick for a moment because I fear deformity, and he sat quiet and let me kiss him, and I thought I am kissing pain and pain belongs to You as happiness never does. I love You in Your pain. I could almost taste metal and salt in the skin, and I thought, How good You are. You might have killed us with happiness, but You let us be with You in pain. I felt him move abruptly away and I opened my eyes. He said, ‘Good-bye.’ ‘Good-bye, Richard.’ ‘Don’t come back,’ he said, ‘I can’t bear your pity.’ ‘It’s not pity.’ ‘I’ve made a fool of myself.’ I went away. It wasn’t any good staying. I couldn’t tell him I envied him, carrying the mark of pain around with him like that, seeing You in the glass every day instead of this dull human thing we call beauty.