Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - Part II - III
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THE CONFESSION OF A FOOL 169
What a coward you were, my proud Marie! And
how cruel it was of you to make me a Avitness of the
spectacle of your downfall, the laughter and sneers of
the onlookers !
I spent the evening at my club, and when I went home
that night I was intoxicated.
I went to see her early on the following morning. The
alcohol seemed to have made me more clear-sighted.
For the first time I noticed the change in her. Her room
was untidy, her dress slovenly, her beloved little feet were
thrust into a pair of old slippers, the stockings hung in
wrinkles round her ankles. What squalor !
Her vocabulary had become enriched by some ugly
theatrical slang ; her gestures were reminiscent of the
street, her eyes looked at me with hatred, an expression
of bitterness drew down the corners of her mouth.
She remained stooping over her work, without looking
at me, as if she were thinking evil thoughts.
Suddenly, Avithout raising her head, she said hoarsely
—
"Do you know. Axel, what a woman is justified in
expecting from the man with whom she is on intimate
terms, such as we are?
"
Thunderstruck, unwilling to trust my ears, I faltered
—
"No . . . what? "
"What does a woman expect from her lover? "
" Love !
"
"And what else?
"
"Money! "
The vulgar word saved her from further questioning,
and I left her, convinced that I had guessed correctly.
"Prostitute! Prostitute! ’’
I said to myself, stumb-
ling through the streets, the autumnal appearance of
which depressed my spirits. We had arrived at the last
stage. . . . All that remained to do was to make payment
for pleasures received, to admit the trade without shame.
If she had been poor, at least, suffering from want !
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