France -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Marriage -- Fiction; Women -- France -- Fiction
"However I submitted. I had no right to pray that my paltry happiness
might be spared; I was despised enough, Heaven knows! to resist would
have been to make myself odious. My mother, inconsolable for her other
son's death, threatened to die herself if I did not follow out my
destiny. My father, who accused me of not knowing how to comfort him, as
if I were to blame because he loved me so little, was ready to curse me
if I tried to escape from his yoke. I bent my head; but what I suffered
even you yourself, although you too have been very unhappy, could never
understand. If, after being hunted and maltreated and oppressed as I
have been, I have not returned mankind evil for evil, perhaps it is a
fair conclusion that my heart is not so cold and sterile as it has been
accused of being.
"When I came back here, when I saw the man to whom you had been
married--forgive me, Indiana, that was the time when I was genuinely
selfish; there must always be selfishness in love, since there was a
touch of it even in mine--I felt an indescribably cruel joy in the
thought that that legal sham would give you a master and not a husband.
You were surprised at the species of affection for him I displayed; it
was because I did not look upon him as a rival. I knew well enough that
that old man could neither feel nor inspire love, and that your heart
would come forth untouched from that marriage. I was grateful to him for
your coldness and your melancholy. If he had remained here, I should
perhaps have become a very guilty man; but you left me alone and it was
not in my power to live without you. I tried to conquer the indomitable
love which had sprung to life again in all its force when I found you as
fair and sad as I had dreamed of you in your childhood. But solitude
only intensified my suffering and I yielded to the craving I felt to see
you, to live under the same roof, to breathe the same air, to drink my
fill every hour of the melodious tones of your voice. You know what
obstacles I had to meet, what distrust I had to overcome; I realized
then what duties I had voluntarily undertaken; I could not connect my
life with yours without quieting your husband's suspicions by a sacred
promise, and I have never known what it was to trifle with my word. I
pledged myself therefore with my mind and my heart never to forget my
rôle of brother, and I ask you, Indiana, if I ever was false to my
oath.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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