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88 THE CONFESSION OF A FOOL
The Baron noticed that something was wrong, but he
could not understand her excitement.
I left them at the landing-stage, pretending that I had
to pay a visit at one of the neighbouring villas.
I don’t know how I got back to town. My legs seemed
to carry a lifeless body ; the vital node was cut, I was a
corpse walking along the streets.
Alone! I was alone again, without friends, without
a family, without anything to worship. It was impos-
sible for me to recreate God. The statue of the Madonna
had fallen down ; woman had shown herself behind the
beautiful image, woman, treacherous, faithless, with
sharp claws ! When she attempted to make me her
confidant, she was taking the first step towards breaking
her marriage vows ; at that moment tlie hatred of her sex
was born in me. She had insulted the man and the
sex in me, and I took the part of her husband against
her. Not that I flattered myself with being a virtuous
man, but in love man is never a thief, he only takes
what is given to him. It is woman who steals and sells
herself. The only time when she gives unselfishly is when
she betrays her husband. The prostitute sells herself, the
young wife sells herself ; the faithless wife only gives to
her lover that which she has stolen from her husband.
But I had not desired this woman in any other way
than as a friend. Protected from me by her child, I had
always seen her invested with the insignia of motherhood.
Always seeing her at the side of her husband, I had
never felt the slightest temptation to indulge in pleasures
which are gross in themselves, and ennobled only by entire
and exclusive possession.
I returned to my room annihilated, completely crushed,
more lonely than ever, for I had dropped my Bohemian
friends from the very outset of my relations with the
Baroness.
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