France -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
In my rare moments of clear-mindedness, of frankness with myself, I
understood that beneath her air of sweetness, beneath her naïveté
of a spoiled child, beneath the robust and vibrant passions of her
flesh Juliette concealed a powerful desire to be always beautiful,
adored, paid court to, concealed a fierce selfishness which would not
flinch before any cruelty, before any moral crime!... I realized that
she loved me less than the last piece of cloth, that she would have
sacrificed me for a cloak or a cravat or a pair of gloves.... Once
drawn into such a life she could not stop.... And then what?... Cold
shivers passed up and down my frame from head to heels.... That she
should leave me, no, no, that I did not want!
The most painful moment to me was in the morning when I woke up. With
eyes closed, pulling the cover over my head, my body huddled up into
a ball, I used to ponder over my situation with terrible anguish. And
the more faulty she appeared to me, the more desperately I clung to
Juliette. No matter how often I said to myself that my money would
soon be gone, that the credit on which I could dishonestly prolong the
agony of hope against hope for another week or two, would eventually be
denied to me; I clung to the present and rabidly evolved all sorts of
impossible plans. I pictured myself accomplishing superhuman tasks in
the course of one week. I dreamed of finding millions in some hackney
coach, Fabulous inheritances dropped down from the skies for me. The
idea of stealing haunted me....
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 non-existence 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."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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