France -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
The people here thought that I was out of my mind. My arms are broken.
My flesh is bruised. And yet not for a minute, not for a second has my
passion deserted me, it has possessed me even more than in the past. I
feel how it strangles me, how it squashes my brains, crunches my chest,
gnaws my heart, dries up my veins.... I am like a small animal attacked
by a polecat; no matter how much I roll on the ground desperately
struggling with its teeth, the polecat holds me and won't let me go.
Why did I go away?... Couldn't I hide myself away in a room at some
furnished house?... Juliette would come to see me from time to time,
nobody would know that I existed, and in my obscurity I could enjoy
my heavenly as well as abominable bliss.... Lirat had spoken to me
of honor, of duty, and I believed him!... He had said to me: "Nature
will console you." And I believed him! Lirat had lied to me. Nature has
no soul. Entirely given over to her eternal labor of destruction, she
whispers to me nothing but thoughts of death and crime. Never has she
bent over my burning forehead to cool it or stooped over my panting
breast to calm it. And infinitude has only brought sorrow closer to me!
Now I can no longer resist, and vanquished, I abandon myself to grief,
without even making an effort to drive it away occasionally.
Though the sun rise in the splendor of silver gilt dawns, though it
go down in purple glory, though the sea display its gems, though
everything glitter, sing and emit sweet odors, I don't want to see
anything, I don't want to hear anything.... I only want to see Juliette
in the fugitive outline of the clouds; I only want to hear Juliette in
the errant plaint of the wind, and I am ready to kill myself just to
grasp her elusive image in the things about me!... I see her at the
Bois smiling, happy with her freedom. I see her promenading in the
stage boxes; I see her especially at night, in her bedroom. Men enter
and go out, others come in and leave, all sated with love! By the
glimmer of the night lamp, obscene shadows dance and grimace around her
bed; laughter, kisses and dull spasms are stifled in the pillows, and
with a swooning look, with trembling mouth, she offers everyone her
luxurious body which never tires of pleasure. With my brains on fire,
sinking my nails into my throat, I shriek: "Juliette! Juliette!" as if
it were possible for Juliette to hear me across the space: "Juliette!
Juliette!" Alas! the cry of the sea-gulls and the rumbling noise of
the waves beating against the rocks are the only things that answer:
"Juliette! Juliette!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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