“Where do you expect me to get that much now?” I exclaimed discouraged.
“Now, listen to me,” continued Juliette. “We need only twenty thousand francs. Well, I have figured it all out! In six months we shall have it.”
Juliette looked at me with a mysterious air and repeated:
“We shall have it!”
“Please don’t talk like that, my dear. You don’t know how you hurt me.”
Juliette raised her voice, the wrinkle on her forehead grew rigid.
“Then you want me always to belong to others?”
“Oh! keep still, Juliette! Keep still! Never talk to me like that, never!”
“You are so funny! Come now, be nice and embrace me!”
The next morning, while dressing in the midst of opened trunks and scattered dresses, very much disconcerted by the absence of her chambermaid, she made all sorts of plans for the day. She wanted to take a walk on the jetty, to visit the lighthouse, to fish, to walk to the dune and sit down on the spot where I had cried so much. She said she enjoyed watching the pretty Breton girls in braided and embroidered dresses, like those in the theatre, drinking fresh milk on the farms!
“Are there any boats here?”
“Yes.”
“Lot of them?”
“Certainly.”
“Ah! What a chance. I like boats so much!”
Then she gave me news of Paris. Gabrielle no longer lived with Robert. Malterre was married. Jesselin was on a trip. He had had several duels. And gossip about everybody. All this bad odor of Paris brought back my melancholy and bitter memories. Seeing me sad, she interrupted herself and embraced me, assuming an air of distress:
“Ah! Perhaps you suppose I like this life!” she said plaintively, “and that I only think of amusing myself, of flirting. If you only knew! There are certain things that I can’t tell you. But if you knew what a torture it is to me! You think you are unhappy! How about me? Why, if I did not have the hope of living with my Jean I would kill myself, so often do I feel disgusted with life.”
And, dreaming and wheedling, she would revert to the subject of farming, of hidden paths covered with verdure, of the peace and sweetness of a retired life amid flowers, domestic animals and love. Ah! devoted, humble, eternal love, love that was to brighten our life like the dazzling sun!
We went out after the breakfast which Mother Le Gannec sullenly served us, without once opening her mouth. We were hardly out, when the wind freshened; it disheveled Juliette’s hair. She wanted to return to the house.
“Ah! The wind, dear! I can’t stand the wind. It spoils my hair and makes me sick.”
She was bored all day and our kisses could not dispel the feeling of emptiness. Just as in the past, in my study, she spread a napkin on her dress, placed a few small nail brushes and files on the napkin, and gravely began to polish her nails. I suffered cruelly, and the vision of the old man at the window obsessed me.
The next day Juliette announced that she had to leave that very evening.
“Ah! What a misfortune, my dear! I have forgotten! Quick, quick, get me a carriage. Oh! what a misfortune!”
I made no effort to detain her. Sunk in my chair motionless, gloomy, my head buried in my hands, I sat throughout the preparations for her departure without uttering a single word or making a single request. Juliette went out, returned, folding her gowns, arranging her dressing case, locking her trunks; I heard nothing, saw nothing, knew nothing. Men came in; their heavy steps caused the floor to creak. I understood that they were taking the trunks away. Juliette sat on my lap.
“My poor little dear,” she cried, “you suffer because I leave so soon. You should not feel hurt … be sensible. Besides, I’ll come back shortly and stay a long time. Don’t act so. I’ll come back. I promise you. I’ll bring Spy along. I’ll also bring a horse to ride on, yes? You’ll see how well your little wifie rides on horseback. Now embrace me, my Jean! Why don’t you embrace me? Come on, Jean! Goodbye! I adore you! Goodbye!”
It was growing dark when Mother Le Gannec came into my bedroom. She lit the lamp and gently approached.
“Friend Mintié! Friend Mintié!”
I lifted my eyes; she was so sad, there breathed such merciful pity from her that I threw myself into her arms.
“Ah! Mother Le Gannec! Mother Le Gannec!” I sobbed. “That is what is killing me!”
Mother Le Gannec murmured:
“Friend Mintié, why don’t you pray to the merciful Lord? That will relieve you.”
X
It is a week since I have been able to sleep. There is a hood of red hot iron upon my head. My blood thickens, one might say that my dilated arteries were bursting, and I have the sensation of tongues of fire licking my loins. Whatever human qualities there still remained in me, what little shame, remorse, self-respect and vague hopes buried under the heap of filth have been left in me by moral suffering, the little that has still held me bound by a thread, be it ever so weak, to thinking creatures—all this has now been destroyed by the madness of a frenzied brute. No longer do I entertain thoughts of Good, Truth, Justice, the inflexible laws of nature. I am no longer conscious of the sexual aversion which exists between the various species in the animal kingdom, keeping the world in constant harmony: everything is in a whirl, everything is confused into one tremendous and sterile carnal essence and, in the delirium of my senses, I rave only of unnatural embraces. Not only does the image of prostituted Juliette no longer torment me, but on the contrary it excites my passions! And in my
