The Passion Trilogy – The Calvary, The Torture Garden & The Diary of a Chambermaid. Octave Mirbeau

carrying her away, hiding her and loving her so as to make her giddy with happiness, I opened up my arms and let her go! … She sought refuge in my love, and I denied it to her. … She cried to me: "I adore you, I adore you! … " And I stood there like a fool, amazed as is a child at the unexpected flapping of the wings of a captive bird that has just escaped. … I did not understand that sadness, those tears, those caresses, those words more tender than usual, that trembling. … It is only now that I hear those silent, melancholy words: "My dear Jean, I am a poor little woman, a little foolish and so weak! … I had no idea of anything big or worth while. … Who was there to teach me what chastity, duty, virtue meant! … When I was a child yet, evil surroundings contaminated me, and vice was taught to me by the very people who were supposed to be my guardians. … Still I am not wicked and I love you. … I love you more than I ever loved you! … My beloved Jean, you are strong, you know many beautiful things which I don't. … Well, protect me! … An overpowering desire draws me there. … The trouble is I have seen too much jewelry, too many gowns and other exquisite and expensive trifles which you can't buy me any longer but which others have promised to get me! … I have an instinctive feeling that it's wrong and that it will cause you suffering. … Well, subdue me! … I ask for no other chance than to be good and virtuous. … Teach me how! … Beat me … if I resist! … "

      Poor Juliette! … It seems to me that she is down on her knees before me, with clasped hands. … Tears are rolling from her eyes, from her big eyes downcast and sweet. … Tears are streaming from her eyes endlessly as they used to stream from the eyes of my mother in the past. … And at the thought that I wanted to kill her, that I wanted to disfigure her delightful and sorrowful face through horrible mutilation, I am seized with remorse and my wrath gives way to pity. … She goes on. … "Forgive me! … Oh! my Jean you must forgive me. … It is not my fault, I assure you. … Try to recall. … Did you ever warn me, even once? … Did you ever show me even once the way which I should follow? Through weakness, through fear of losing me, through excessive and criminal kindness, you have yielded to all my whims, even the most wicked ones. … How could I know that it was wrong, when you have never told me anything? … Instead of stopping me on the brink of the precipice where I was headed, you yourself have pushed me into it. … What example have you placed before my eyes? … Whither have you led me? … Have you ever tried to take me out of this alarming atmosphere of debauchery? … Why didn't you chase Jesselin or Gabrielle out of our house, all those degenerates whose very presence only helped to increase my wickedness? … To breathe into me a particle of your own soul, to send a ray of light into the darkness of my brains—that is what you should have done! … Yes, you should have given me another life, you should have made me over again! … I am guilty, my Jean! … And I am so ashamed of myself that I can never hope to be able to atone for the infamy of this evil hour even with a whole life of sacrifice and repentance. … But you! … Is your conscience satisfied that you have done your duty? … I dread not the expiation of my sins. … On the contrary I welcome it, I want it. … But you? … Can you sit in judgment over a crime which I admit I have committed, but in which you, too, have had a part since you have not done anything to prevent it! … My dear beloved, listen to me. … This body which I have attempted to defile horrifies you; hereafter you will not be able to look at it without rage and anguish. … All right then, let it perish! … Let it rot in the oblivion of a graveyard! … There shall be left to you my soul, it belongs to you, for it has never forsaken you, for it loves you. … See how white and pure it is. … "

      A knife glistens in Juliette's hands. … She is going to kill herself with it. … I grasp her arms, I shout: "No, no, Juliette, no, I don't want you to! … I love you! … No, no. … I don't want you to!"

      My arms are brought together in an embrace, but I enclose nothing but space. … I look around me, frightened, the place is empty! … I look again. … The gas is burning with a yellow flame over the dressing table … rumpled skirts are strewn all over the carpet … shoes lie scattered about. … And pale daylight is stealing into the room through the open spaces in the shutters. … I begin to fear in earnest that Juliette may kill herself, for otherwise why should this vision arise before me? … On tiptoe, quietly I walk toward the door and listen. … A feeble sigh reaches my ear, then a wailing, then a sob. … And like a fool I rush into the room. … A voice speaks to me in the darkness, the voice of Juliette:

      "Ah! my Jean! My dear little Jean!"

      And chastely, as Christ kissed Magdalene, I kissed her on the forehead.