A mother and a daughter. What a terrible combination of feelings and confusion and destruction. Everything is possible and is done in the name of love and solicitude. The mother's injuries are to be handed down to the daughter. The mother's failures are to be paid for by the daughter. The mother's unhappiness is to be the daughter's unhappiness. It's as if the umbilical cord had never been cut. Is it so? Is the daughter's misfortune the mother's triumph? Is my grief your secret pleasure?
