"There was also an affair with the wrestler of Neuilly, to whom she gave twenty francs and Charles' old trousers. As you see, it's full of idylls.... I like Malterre very much ... because he is good-natured and his lack of sense evokes my pity.... He really has my sympathy.... But what can one say to such men, to whom love is the greatest thing in life and who can't see a woman's back without tacking on to it wings of dreams and sending it flying to the stars.... Nothing, isn't that true?... So much so that the unfortunate fellow, in the midst of his rage and sobs, could brag about the fact that Juliette had received a good education. He used to take pride in the fact that she came from the womb of a physician's wife and not from that of the wife of a janitor, and he would show me her letters, emphasizing the correct spelling and the elegant turn of phrases!... He seemed to say: 'How I suffer, but how well written this is!'... What a pity!" "Ah! You, too, love the woman!" I exclaimed, when he finished his tirade. And foolishly, I added: "They say you have suffered much." Lirat shrugged his shoulders and smiled: "You talk like Delauney, of the Comédie-Française. No, no, my kind friend, I have not suffered; I have seen others suffer, and that was enough for me ... do you understand?" Suddenly his voice became shrill, an almost cruel light shone in his eyes. He resumed: "Ordinary people, poor devils like Charles Malterre, when stepped upon, are crushed, they disappear in the blood, in the mire, in the atrocious filth stirred up by woman's hands ... that's unfortunate of course.... Humanity, however, does not claim them back; for nothing has been stolen from it.... But artists, men of our calibre with big hearts and big brains,--when these are lost, strangled, killed!... You understand?" His hand trembled, he crushed his crayon on the canvas. "I have known three of them, three wonderful, divine ones; two died by hanging themselves; the third one, my teacher, is in a padded dark room at Bicêtre!... Of this pure genius there has been left only a lump of wan flesh, a sort of raving beast who grimaces and hurls himself at you with froth at his mouth!... And in this crowd of cast-offs, how many young hopes have perished in the grasp of the beast of prey! Count them up, all these lamentable, bewildered, maimed people; those who had wings and who are now crawling on all fours; those who scrape the earth with their nails and feed on their own excrements! Why, you yourself ... a minute ago looked at Juliette with ecstasy ... you were ready to do anything for a kiss from her.... Don't deny it, I saw you.... Oh! well, let's go out; that's enough, I can't work any more."