What sort
of creature is that who treats his soul as the flagellants treat their
bodies? Can one live without a head?
"Think of it. Here is a man who possesses the most beautiful woman in the
world; he is young and ardent; he finds her beautiful and tells her so;
she replies that she loves him. Some one touches him on the shoulder and
says to him 'She is unfaithful.' Nothing more, he is sure of himself. If
some one had said: 'She is a poisoner,' he would, perhaps, have continued
to love her, he would not have given her a kiss less; but she is
unfaithful and it is no more a question of love with him than of the star
of Saturn.
"What is there in that word? A word that is merited, positive, withering,
it is agreed. But why? It is still but a word. Can you kill a body with a
word?
"And if you love that body? Some one pours a glass of wine and says to
you: 'Do not love that, for you can get four for six francs.' And if you
become intoxicated?
"But that Desgenais loves his mistress, since he keeps her; he must,
therefore, have a peculiar fashion of loving? No, he has not; his fashion
of loving is not love, and he cares no more for the woman who merits
affection than for her who is unworthy. He loves no one, simply and
truly.
"What has led him to that? Was he born thus? To love is as natural as to
eat and to drink. He is not a man. Is he a dwarf or a giant? What! always
that impassive body? Upon what does he feed, what brew does he drink?
Behold him at thirty as old as the senile Mithridates; the poisons of
vipers are his familiar friends.
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