Gradually all these insane notions took hold of my distracted mind. I was presenting Juliette with palaces and castles; I overwhelmed her with diamonds and pearls; gold streamed and glittered all around her, and I raised her high above the earth, upon dizzy, royal heights. Then the sense of reality would suddenly return. I buried myself deeper in the bed. I sought realms of nonexistence in whose depth I could disappear. I forced myself to sleep. And suddenly, out of breath, with sweat on my forehead and a haggard look in my eyes, I would snuggle up to Juliette, press her in my arms with all my strength, sobbing:
“You’ll never leave me, will you, my Juliette! Tell me, tell me that you’ll never leave me. Because, you see. … I’ll die … if you do—I’ll go crazy. I’ll kill myself! Juliette, I swear to you that I’ll kill myself!”
“Why, what has come over you? Why do you tremble so? No, my dear, I’ll never leave you. Are we not happy together? Besides, I love you so much! When you are nice as you are now!”
“Yes, yes! I’ll kill myself! I’ll kill myself!”
“You are so funny, my dear! Why do you tell me that?”
“Because.”
I was going to tell her everything. … But I had not the courage. And I said:
“Because I love you! Because I don’t want you to leave me! Because I don’t want to.”
Nevertheless I finally had to bring this matter to a head. Juliette had seen in the window of a jewelry store on the Rue de la Paix, a string of pearls of which she spoke without end. One day when we were in that neighborhood:
“Let’s go and see that beautiful jewel,” she said to me.
With her nose pressed against the windowpane and eyes shining, she looked at the string arranged in a triple circular row of pink pearls upon the velvet of the jewel case. I saw a tremor passing up and down her skin.
“Isn’t that beautiful? And it isn’t expensive at all! I have asked about the price … fifty thousand francs. … That’s an exceptional bargain.”
I tried to draw her further on. But coaxingly, hanging on my arm, she held me back. And she sighed:
“Ah, how nice that would look on the neck of your little wifie!”
She added with an air of profound grief:
“Really! All the women have lots of jewels. Only I have none. If you were really nice, really kind to me, you would give them to your poor little Juliette. … There now!”
I stammered out:
“Certainly. I want to—very much … but later … next week!”
Juliette’s face grew dark:
“Why next week? Can’t you do it now, right now!”
“Well you see … now … I am short of money. … I am a little hard up.”
“What? Already? You haven’t got a sou? Is that a fact? Where did all your money go? You have not a sou left?”
“Why yes, I have! Only I am a little short of cash temporarily.”
“Well if that’s the case it doesn’t matter. I have also made inquiries about the terms. They would agree to accept promissory notes. Five notes of six thousand francs each. That is not such a mighty matter!”
“Undoubtedly. But a little later! I promise you. Is that all right?”
“Ah!” Juliette said simply.
I looked at her, the wrinkle on her forehead terrified me; I saw a hidden glimmer flare up in her eyes, and in the space of a second a world of extraordinary sensations hitherto unknown to me, took hold of me. Very clearly, with perfect understanding, with cruel indifference, with a startling conciseness of judgment I put the following question to myself: “Juliette and dishonor; Juliette and prison?” I did not hesitate.
“Let’s go in,” I said.
She took the string of pearls away with her.
In the evening, wearing her pearls, she sat down on my lap, radiant, with her arms closed around my neck. She sat so for a long time, lulling me with her sweet voice.
“Ah, my poor sweetie,” she said, “I am not always sensible! Yes, I realize. I am a little foolish sometimes. But I am through now! I want to be a good, a serious-minded woman. And you shall work undisturbed, you’ll write a good novel—a nice play. Then we shall be rich, very rich. And then if you should happen to be very much short of money we could sell this beautiful string of pearls! Because jewels are not like dresses, they are just as good as money. Press me in your arms strongly.”
Ah! how fast that night was gone! How the hours sped by, no doubt frightened to hear love shrieking with a horrible voice of one who is damned.
Disasters followed one another and soon reached their climax. The promissory notes that I had given Juliette’s jeweler remained unpaid. I had a hard time borrowing enough money to satisfy our everyday needs. My father had left some uncollected debts at Saint-Michel. Generous and kindhearted, he liked to help out small farmers in a pinch. Pitilessly I started the process servers after these poor devils, causing them to sell their hovels, their piece of land, the things with the aid of which they made a miserable living, depriving themselves of everything. In the shops where I still had credit I bought things which I immediately resold at a very low price. I stooped to putting through the most questionable deals. My brains teemed with original plans of blackmail, and I tired Jesselin with my endless requests of money. Finally one day I went to see Lirat. I needed five hundred francs that evening, and I went to Lirat, deliberately, boldly! In his presence, however, in that studio full of painful memories, my self-assurance deserted me and I felt a sense of
