Chapter 7, Part 3, Book 2, of Confession of a Child of the Century. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Martin Giesen. Confession of a Child of the Century by Alfred de Musée. Translated by Kendall Warren. Book 2, Part 3, Chapter 7. The fever confined me to my bed a week. When I was able to write, I assured Madame Pearson that she would be obeyed and that I would go away. I wrote in good faith without any intention to deceive, but I was very far from keeping my promise. Before I had gone ten leagues, I ordered the driver to stop and I stepped out of the carriage. I began to walk along the road. I could not resist the temptation to look back at the village, which was still visible in the distance. Finally, after a period of frightful irresolution, I felt that it was impossible for me to continue on my route, and rather than get into the carriage again, I would have died on the spot. I told the driver to turn around, and instead of going to Paris, as I had intended, I made straight for N, with a Madame Pearson had gone. I arrived at ten in the night. As soon as I reached the inn, I had a boy direct me to the house of her relatives, and without reflecting what I was doing, at once made my way to the spot. A servant opened the door. I asked if Madame Pearson was there, and directed him to tell her that someone wished to speak to her on the part of Monsieur Des Prêts. That was the name of our village, Curée. While the servant was executing my order, I remained alone in a somber little court. As it was raining, I entered the hall, and stood at the foot of the stairway, which was not lighted. Madame Pearson soon arrived, preceding the servant. She descended rapidly, and did not see me in the darkness. I stepped up to her, and touched her arm. She recoiled with terror, and cried out, What do you wish of me? Her voice trembled so painfully, and when the servant appeared with a light, her face was so pale, that I did not know what to think. Was it possible that my unexpected appearance could disturb her in such a manner? That reflection occurred to me, but I decided that it was merely a feeling of fright, natural to a woman who is suddenly approached. Nevertheless she repeated her question in a firmer tone. You must permit me to see you once more, I replied. I will go away. I will leave the country. You shall be obeyed. I swear it. And that beyond your real desire, for I will sell my father's house, and go abroad. But that is only on condition that I am permitted to see you once more. Otherwise I remain. You need fear nothing from me, but I am resolved on that. She frowned and cast her eyes about her in a strange manner. Then she replied almost graciously. Come to-morrow, during the day, and I will see you. Then she left me. The next day at noon I presented myself. I was introduced into a room with old hangings and antique furniture. I found her alone, seated on a sofa. I sat down before her. Madame, I began, I come neither to speak of what I suffer, nor to deny that I love you. You have written me that what has passed between us cannot be forgotten, and that is true. But you say that on that account we cannot meet on the same footing as here to for, and you are mistaken. I love you, but I have not offended you. Nothing is changed in our relations, since you do not love me. If I am permitted to see you, responsibility rests with me.  She tried to interrupt me. Kindly allow me to finish what I have to say. No one knows better than I, that in spite of the respect I feel for you, and in spite of all the protestations by which I might bind myself, love is the stronger. I repeat, I do not intend to deny what is in my heart, but you do not learn of that love to-day for the first time, and I ask you what has prevented me from declaring it up to the present time, the fear of losing you. I was afraid I would not be permitted to see you, and that is what has happened. Make a condition that the first word I shall speak, the first thought or gesture that shall seem to be inconsistent with the most profound respect, shall be the signal for the closing of your door, as I have been silent in the past, I will be silent in the future. You think that I have loved you for a month, when in fact I have loved you from the first day I met you. When you discovered it, you did not refuse to see me on that account. If you had at that time enough esteem for me to believe me incapable of offending you, why have you lost that esteem? That is what I have come to ask you. What have I done? I have bent my knee, but I have not said a word. What have I told you? What you already knew? I have been weak because I have suffered. It is true, madam, that I am twenty years of age, and what I have seen of life has only disgusted me. I could use a stronger word. It is true that there is not at this hour on earth, either in the society of men or in solitude, a place, however small and insignificant, that I care to occupy. The space enclosed between the four walls of your garden is the only spot in the world where I live. You are the only human being who has made me love God. I had renounced everything before I knew you. Why deprive me of the only ray of light that providence has spared me? If it is on account of fear, what have I done to inspire it? If it is on account of pity, in what respect am I culpable? If it is on account of pity and because I suffer, you are mistaken in supposing that I can cure myself. It might have been done perhaps two months ago, but I preferred to see you and to suffer, and I do not repent whatever may come of it. The only misfortune that can reach me is losing you. Put me to the proof. If I ever feel that there is too much suffering for me in our bargain, I will go away, and you may be sure of it, since you send me away today and I am ready to go. What risk do you run in giving me a month or two of the only happiness I will ever know? I waited her reply. She suddenly rose from her seat, then sat down again. Then a moment of silence ensued. Rest assured, she said, it is not so. I thought she was searching for words that would not appear too severe, and that she was anxious to avoid hurting me. One word, I said rising. One word, nothing more. I know who you are, and if there is any compassion for me in your heart, I thank you. Speak but one word. This moment decides my life. She shook her head. I saw that she was hesitating. You think I can be cured? I cried. May God grant you that solace if you send me away. I looked out of the window at the horizon and felt in my soul such a frightful sensation of loneliness at the idea that I was going away, that my blood froze in my veins. She saw me standing before her, my eyes fixed on her, awaiting her reply. All of my life was hanging in suspense upon her lips. Very well, she said, listen to me. This move of yours in coming to see me was an act of great imprudence. However, it is not necessary to assume that you have come here to see me. Accept a commission that I will give you for a friend of my family. If you find that it is a little far, let it be the occasion for an absence which shall last as long as you choose, but which must not be too short. Although you said a moment ago, she added with a smile, that a short trip would calm you. You will stop in the vogue, and you will go as far as Strasbourg. Then in a month, or better in two months, you will return and report to me. I will see you again and give you further instructions. End of Chapter 7 Part 3 Book 2 Recording by Martin Geeson in Hazelmere Surrey Chapter 8 Part 3 Book 2 of Confession of a Child of the Century This is a LibriVox recording, or LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Martin Geeson Confession of a Child of the Century by Alfred de Musée Translated by Kendall Warren Book 2 Part 3 Chapter 8 That evening I received a letter from Madame Pearson, addressed to Monsieur R.D. at Strasbourg. Three weeks later, my mission had been accomplished, and I returned. While absent, I had thought of nothing but her, and I despaired of ever forgetting her. Nevertheless, I determined to restrain my feelings in her presence. I had suffered too cruelly at the prospect of losing her, to run any further risks. My esteem for her rendered it impossible for me to suspect her sincerity, and I did not see, in her plan, forgetting me to leave the country, anything that resembled hypocrisy. In a word, I was firmly convinced that at the first word of love, her door would be closed to me. Upon my return, I found her thin and changed. Her habitual smile seemed to languish on her discoloured lips. She told me that she had been suffering. We did not speak of the past. She did not appear to wish to recall it, and I had no desire to refer to it. We resumed our old relations of neighbours. Yet there was something of constrained between us, a sort of conventional familiarity. It was as though we had said, it was thus before, let it still be thus. She granted me her confidence, a concession that was not without its charms for me, but our conversation was colder, for the reason that our eyes expressed as much as our tongues. In all that we said, there was more to be surmised than was actually spoken. We no longer endeavoured to fathom each other's mind. There was not the same interest attaching to each word, to each sentiment, that curious analysis that characterised our past intercourse. She treated me with kindness, but I distrusted even that kindness. I walked with her in the garden, but no longer accompanied her outside of the premises. We no longer wandered through the woods and valleys. She opened the piano when we were alone. The sound of her voice no longer awakened in my heart those transports of joy which are like sobs that are inspired by hope. When I took leave of her, she gave me her hand, but I was conscious of the fact that it was lifeless. There was much effort in our familiar ease, many reflections in our lightest remarks, much sadness at the bottom of it all. We felt that there was a third party between us. It was my love for her. My actions never betrayed it, but it appeared in my face. I lost my cheerfulness, my energy and the colour of health that once shone in my cheeks. At the end of one month, I no longer resembled my old self. And yet in all our conversations, I insisted on my disgust with the world, on my aversion to returning to it. I tried to make Madame Pearson feel that she had no reason to reproach herself for allowing me to see her. I depicted my past life in the most somber colours and gave her to understand that if she should refuse to allow me to see her, she would condemn me to a loneliness worse than death.  So I affected a cheerfulness that I was far from feeling. In order to show her that in permitting me to see her, she had saved me from the most frightful misfortune. I thanked her almost every time I went to see her that I might return in the evening or the following morning. All my dreams of happiness, said I, all my hopes, all my ambitions are enclosed in the little corner of the earth where you dwell. Outside of the air that you breathe, there is no life for me. She saw that I was suffering and could not help pitying me.  She saw the struggle that was going on in me. My obedience flattered her pride while my pallor awakened her charitable instinct. At times she appeared to be irritated, almost coquettish. She would say in a tone that was almost rebellious, I shall not be here tomorrow. Do not come on such and such a day. Then as I was going away sad but resigned, she sweetened the cup of bitterness by adding, I am not sure of it. Come whenever you please. Or her adieu was more friendly than usual, her glance more tender. Rest assured that providence has led me to you, I said, if I had not met you, I might have relapsed into the irregular life I was leading before I knew you. God has sent you as an angel of light to draw me from the abyss. He has confided a sacred mission to you. Who knows if I should lose you, wither the sorrow that consumes me might lead me. The sad experience I have been through, the terrible combat between my youth and my ennui. That thought, sincere enough on my part, had great weight with a woman of lofty devotion whose soul was as pious as it was ardent. It was probably the only consideration that induced Madame Pearson to permit me to see her. I was preparing to go to see her one day, when someone knocked at my door, and I saw Marc-en-Saint enter. That priest I had met in the garden on the occasion of my first visit. He began to make excuses that were as tiresome as himself for presuming to call on me without having made my acquaintance. I told him that I knew him very well as the nephew of our curé, and asked what I could do for him. He turned uneasily from one side to another with an air of constraint, searching for phrases and fingering everything on the table before him, as though at a loss what to say. Finally he informed me that Madame Pearson was ill, and that she had sent word to me by him that she would not be able to see me that day. Is she ill? Why, I left her late yesterday afternoon, and she was very well at that time. He bowed. But I continued. If she is ill, why send word to me by a third party? She does not live so far away that a useless call would harm me. The same response from Marc-en-Saint. I could not understand what this peculiar manner signified, much less why she had entrusted her mission to him. Very well, I said, I shall see her tomorrow, and she will explain what this means. His hesitation continued. Madame Pearson has also told me that I should inform you. In fact I am requested to. Well, what is it? I cried impatiently. Sir, you are becoming violent. I think Madame Pearson is seriously ill. She will not be able to see you this week. Another bow, and he retired. It was clear that his visit concealed some mystery. Either Madame Pearson did not wish to see me, and I could not explain why, or Marc-en-Saint had interfered on his own responsibility. I waited until the following day, and then presented myself at her door. The servant who met me said that her mistress was indeed very ill, and could not see me. She refused to accept the money I offered her, and would not answer my questions. As I was passing through the village on my return, I saw Marc-en-Saint. He was surrounded by a number of school children, his uncle's pupils. I stopped him in the midst of his harangue, and asked if I could have a word with him. He followed me aside, but now it was my turn to hesitate, for I was at a loss how to proceed to draw his secret from him. Sir, I finally said, will you kindly inform me of what you told me yesterday was the truth, or was there some motive behind it? Moreover, as there is not a physician in the neighbourhood who can be called in case of necessity, it is important that I should know whether her condition is serious. He protested that Madame Pearson was ill, but that he knew nothing more, except that she had sent for him and asked him to notify me, as he had done. While talking, we had walked down the road some distance, and had now reached a deserted spot, seeing that neither strategy nor entreaty would serve my purpose. I suddenly turned and seized him by the arms. What does this mean, sir? You intend to resort to violence? He cried. No, but I intend to make you tell me what you know. Sir, I am afraid of no one, and I have told you what you ought to know. You have told me what you think I ought to know, but not what you know. Madame Pearson is not sick. I am sure of it. How do you know? The servant told me so. Why has she closed her door against me, and why did she send you to tell me of it? Mercanson saw a peasant passing. Pierre, he cried, calling him by name. Wait a moment, I wish to speak with you. The peasant approached. That was all he wanted, thinking I would not dare use violence in the presence of a third party. I let go of him, but so roughly that he staggered back and fell against a tree. He clenched his fist and turned away without a word. For three weeks I suffered terribly. Three times a day I called at Madame Pearson's, and was each time refused admittance. I received one letter from her. She said that my aciduity was causing talk in the village and begged me to call less frequently. Not a word about Mercanson or her illness. This precaution on her part was so unnatural and contrasted so strongly with her former proud indifference in matters of this kind, that at first I could hardly believe it. Not knowing what else to say, I replied that there was no desire in my heart but obedience to her wishes. But in spite of me, the words I used did not conceal the bitterness I felt. I purposely delayed going to see her, even when permitted to do so. And no longer sent to inquire about her condition, as I wished to have her know that I did not believe in her illness. I did not know why she kept me at a distance. But I was so miserably unhappy that at times I thought seriously of putting an end to a life that had become insupportable. I was accustomed to spend entire days in the woods, and one day I happened to encounter her there. I hardly had the courage to ask for an explanation. She did not reply frankly, and I did not recur to the subject. I could only count the days I was obliged to pass without seeing her, and live in the hope of a visit. All the time I was strongly tempted to throw myself at her feet and tell her of my despair. I knew that she would not be insensible to it, and that she would at least express her pity. But her severity and the abrupt manner of her departure recalled me to my senses. I trembled lest I should lose her, and I would rather die than expose myself to that danger. Thus denied the solace of confession of my sorrow, my health began to give way. My feet lagged on the way to her house. I felt that I was exhausting the source of tears, and each visit cost me added sorrow. I was torn with the thought that I ought not to see her. On her part there was neither the same tone nor the same ease as of old. She spoke of going away on a tour.  If surprised by a natural impulse of sympathy, she immediately checked herself and relapsed into her accustomed coldness. Upon one occasion I could not restrain my tears. I saw her turn pale. As I was going she said to me at the door, Tomorrow I am going to Salus, a neighbouring village, and it is too far to go on foot. Be here with your horse early in the morning, if you have nothing to do, and go with me. I was on hand promptly, as may readily be imagined. I had slept over that word with transports of joy. But upon leaving my house, I experienced a feeling of deep dejection. In restoring me to the privilege I had formerly enjoyed of accompanying her on her missions about the country, she had clearly been guilty of a cruel caprice, if she did not love me. She knew how I was suffering, why abuse my courage, unless she had changed her mind. This reflection had a strange influence on me. When she mounted her horse, my heart beat violently as I took her foot. I do not know whether it was desire or anger. If she is touched, I said to myself, why this reserve? If she is a coquette, why so much liberty? Such are men. At my first word she saw that a change had taken place in me. I did not speak to her, but kept to the other side of the road. When we reached the valley, she appeared at ease and only turned her head from time to time to see if I was following her. But when we came to the forest, and our horse's hoofs resounded against the rocks that lined the road, I saw that she was trembling. She stopped as though to wait for me, as I was some distance in the rear. When I had overtaken her, she set out on a gallop. We soon reached the foot of the mountain, and were compelled to slacken our pace. I then made my way to her side. Our heads were bowed. The time had come. I took her hand. Prechit, I said, are you weary of my complaints? Since I have been reinstated in your favour, since I have been allowed to see you every day and every evening, I have asked myself if I have been important. During the last two months, while strength and hope have been failing me, have I said a word of that fatal love which is consuming me? Raise your head and answer me. Do you not see that I suffer and that my nights are given to weeping? Have you not met in the forest an unfortunate wretch sitting in solitary dejection with his hands pressed to his forehead? Have you not seen tears on these bushes? Look at me. Look at these mountains. Do you realise that I love you? They know it. They are my witnesses. These rocks and these trees know my secret. Why lead me before them? Am I not wretched enough? Do I fail in courage? Have I obeyed you? Do I test what tortures am I subjected and for what crime? If you do not love me, what are you doing here? Let us return, she said. Let us retrace our steps. I seized her horse's bridle. No, I replied, for I have spoken. If we return, I lose you. I realise it. I know in advance what you will say. You have been pleased to try my patience. You have set my sorrow at defiance. Perhaps that you might have the right to drive me from your presence. You have become tired of that sorrowful lover who suffered without complaint and who drank with resignation the bitter chalice of your disdain. You knew that alone with you in the presence of these trees in the midst of this solitude where my love had its birth I could not be silent. You wish to be offended. Very well, madame, I lose you. I have wept and I have suffered. I have too long nourished in my heart a pitiless love that devours me. You have been cruel. As she was about to leap from her saddle I seized her in my arms and pressed my lips to hers. She turned pale. Her eyes closed. Her bridle slipped from her hand and she fell to the ground. God, be praised, I cried. She loves me. She had returned my kiss. I leapt to the ground and hastened to her side. She was extended on the ground. I raised her. She opened her eyes and shuddered with terror. She pushed my arm aside and burst into tears. I stood near the roadside. I looked at her as she leaned against a tree as beautiful as the day. Her long hair falling over her shoulders. Her hands twitching and trembling. Her cheeks effused with colour, brilliant with purple and with pearls. Do not come near me, she cried, not a step. Oh my love, I said, fear nothing.  I was angry and I gave way to my grief. Treat me as you choose. You may go away now. You may send me away. I know that you love me, Brigitte.  As I spoke these words, Madame Pearson fixed her humid eyes on mine. I saw the happiness of my life come to me in the flash of those orbs. I crossed the road and knelt before her. How little he loves, who can recall the words he uses when he confesses that love. End of chapter 8 part 3, book 2. Recording by Martin Giesen in Hazelmere Surrey. Chapter 9 part 3, book 2. Of confession of a child of the century. This is a LibriVox recording, or LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Martin Giesen. Confession of a Child of the Century by Alfred de Musée. Translated by Kendall Warren. Book 2 part 3, chapter 9. If I were a jeweler and had in my stock a pearl necklace that I wished to give to a friend, it seems to me I would take great pleasure in placing it about her neck with my own hands. But if I'm with that friend, I would rather die than snatch the necklace from the jeweler's hand. I have seen many men hasten to give themselves to the woman they love. But I have always done the contrary, not through calculation, but through natural instinct. The woman who loves a little and resists does not love enough. And she who loves enough and resists knows that she is not sincerely loved. Madame Pearson gave evidence of more confidence in me confessing that she loved me when she had never shown it in her actions. The respect I felt for her inspired me with such joy that her face looked to me like a blossomed flower. At times she would abandon herself to an impulse of sudden gaiety and then suddenly check herself, treating me like a child and then looking at me with eyes filled with tears, indulging in a thousand pleasant things as a pretext for a more familiar word or caress, then quitting me to go aside and abandon herself to reverie. Is there a more beautiful sight? When she returned she would find me waiting for her in some spot where I had remained watching her. Oh my friend, I said, heaven itself rejoices to see how you are loved. Yet I could neither conceal the violence of my desires nor the pain I endured struggling against them. One evening I told her that I had just learned of the loss of an important case which would involve a considerable change in my affairs. How is it? She asked that you make this announcement and smile at the same time. There is a certain maxim of a Persian poet, I replied. He who is loved by a beautiful woman is sheltered from every blow. Madame Pearson made no reply. All that evening she was even more cheerful than usual. When we played cards with her aunt I lost. She was merciless in her scorn saying that I knew nothing of the game and betting against me with so much success that she won all I had in my purse. When the old lady retired she stepped out onto the balcony and I followed her in silence. The night was beautiful. The moon was setting and the stars shone brightly in a field of deep azure. Not a breath of wind stirred the trees. The air was warm and laden with the perfume of spring. She was leaning on her elbow, her eyes in the heavens. I leaned over her and watched her as she dreamed. Then I raised my own eyes of a luptuous, melancholy seized us both. We breathed together the warm perfume wafted to us from the garden. We followed in its lingering course the pale light of the moon which glinted through the chestnut trees. I thought of a certain day when I had looked up at the broad expanse of heaven with despair. I trembled at the recollection of that hour. Life was so rich now. I felt a hymn of praise rising up in my heart. I surrounded the form of my dear beloved with my arm.  Her eyes were bathed in tears. Her body yielded as does the rose. Her open lips fell on mine and the universe was forgotten. End of chapter 9 part 3 book 2 Recording by Martin Giesen in Hazelmayer Surrey. Chapter 10 part 3 book 2 of confession of a child of the century. This is a LibriVox recording or LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Martin Giesen Confession of a Child of the Century by Alfred de Musée translated by Kendall Warren Book 2 part 3 Chapter 10 Eternal angel of happy nights who will utter thy silence a kiss, mysterious vintage that flows from the lips as from a stainless chalice intoxication of the senses overlap to us pleasure. Yes, like God, thou art immortal. Sublime exultation of the creature universal communion of beings thrice sacred pleasure. What have they sung who have celebrated thy praise? They have called thee transitory.  Words that are as feeble as the dying breath words of a sensual brute who is astonished that he should live for an hour and who mistakes the rays of the eternal lamp for the spark which is struck from the flint. O love!   But your first delights languishing smiles first stammering utterance of love you who can be seen who are you are you less in God's sight than all the rest beautiful cherubim who soar in the alcove and who bring to this world man awakened from the dream divine oh dear children of pleasure now your mother loves you it is you curious prattlers who behold the first mysteries touches trembling yet chaste glances that are already insatiable who begin to trace on the heart as a tentative sketch the ineffacable image of cherished beauty oh royalty oh conquest it is you who make lovers and thou true diadem thou serenity of happiness first glance bent on life first return of happiness to the many little things of life which are seen only through the medium of joy first steps made by nature in the direction of the well-beloved who will paint you what human word will ever express by slightest caress he who in the freshness of his youth has taken leave of an adored woman he who has walked through the streets without hearing the voices of those who speak to him he who has sat in a lonely spot laughing and weeping without knowing why he who has placed his hands to his face in order to breathe the perfume that still clings to them he who has suddenly forgotten what he had been doing on earth he who has spoken to the trees along the route and to the birds in their flight finally he who in the midst of men has acted the madman and then has fallen on his knees and thanked God for it he will die without complaint he has known the joy of love End of Chapter 10 Part 3 Book 2 Recording by Martin Giesen in Hazelmere Surrey Chapter 1 Part 4 Book 2 Of Confession of a Child of the Century This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Confession of a Child of the Century by Alfred de Muset Translated by Kendall Warren Book 2 Part 4 Chapter 1 The Thorns of Love I have now to recount what happened to my love and the change that took place in me What reason can I give for it? None except as I repeat the story and as I say it is the truth For two days, neither more nor less I was Madame Pearson's lover One fine night I sat out and reversed the road that led to her house I was feeling so well in body and soul that I leaped for joy and extended my arms to heaven I found her at the top of the stairway leaning on the railing a lighted candle beside her she was waiting for me and when she saw me ran to meet me She showed me how she had changed her coiffure and told me how she had passed the day arranging her hair to suit my taste how she had taken down a villainous black picture frame that had offended my eye how she had renewed the flowers she recounted all she had done since she had known me how she had seen me suffer and how she had suffered herself how she had thought of leaving the country of fleeing from her love how she had employed every precaution against me how she had sought advice from her aunt from Murkinson and from the curée how she had vowed to herself that she would die rather than yield and how all that had been dissipated by a single word of mine a glance, an incident and with every confession a kiss she said that whatever I saw in her room that pleased my taste whatever bagatelle on her table attracted my attention she would give me that whatever she did in the future in the morning, in the evening, at any hour I should regulate as I pleased that the judgments of the world did not concern her that if she had appeared to care for them it was only to send me away but that she wished to be happy and close her ears that she was thirty years of age and had not long to be loved by me and you would love me a long time are those fine words with which you have beguiled me true and then loving reproaches because I had been late in coming to her that she had put on her slippers in order that I might see her foot but that she was no longer beautiful that she could wish she were that she had been at fifteen she went here and there silly with love, rosy with joy and she did not know what to imagine, what to say or do in order to give herself and all that she had I was lying on the sofa I felt at every word she spoke a bad hour of my past life slipping away from me I watched the star of love rising in my sky and it seemed to me I was like a tree filled with sap that shakes off its dry leaves in order to attire itself in new foliage she sat down at the piano and told me she was going to play an air by Stradella more than all else I love sacred music and that more so which she had sung for me a number of times gave me great pleasure yes she said when she had finished but you are very much mistaken the air is mine and I have made you believe it was Stradella's it is yours? yes and I told you it was by Stradella in order to see what you would say of it I never play my own music when I happen to compose any but I wanted to try it with you and you see it has succeeded since you were deceived what a monstrous machine is man what could be more innocent? a bright child might have adopted that ruse to surprise his teacher she laughed heartily the while but I felt a strange coldness as if a dark cloud had settled on me my countenance changed what is the matter? she asked are you ill? it is nothing play that air again while she was playing I walked up and down the room I passed my hand over my forehead as if to brush away the fog I stamped my foot shrugged my shoulders at my own madness finally I sat down on a cushion which had fallen to the floor she came to me the more I struggled with the spirit of darkness which had seized me the thicker the night that gathered around my head verily I said you lie so well? what? that air is yours? is it possible you can lie so fluently? she looked at me with an air of astonishment what is it? she asked unspeakable anxiety was depicted on her face surely she could not believe me fool enough to reproach her for such a harmless bit of pleasantry she did not see anything serious in that sadness which I felt but the more trifling the cause the greater the surprise at first she thought I too must be joking but when she saw me growing paler every moment as if about to faint she stood with open lips and bent body looking like a statue God of heaven she cried is it possible? you smile perhaps reader at this page I who write it still shudder as I think of it misfortunes have their symptoms as well as diseases and there is nothing so terrible at sea as a little black point on the horizon however my dear Bridget threw a little round table into the center of the room and brought out some supper she had prepared it herself and I did not drink a drop that was not first born to her lips the blue light of day piercing through the curtains illumined her charming face and tender eyes she was tired and allowed her head to fall on my shoulder with a thousand terms of endearment I could not struggle against such charming abandon and my heart expanded with joy I believed I had rid myself of the bad dream that had just tormented me but I begged her pardon for giving way to a sudden impulse which I myself did not understand my friend I said from the bottom of my heart I am very sorry that I unjustly reproached you for a piece of innocent bad-nidge but if you love me never lie to me even in the smallest matter for a lie is an abomination to me and I cannot endure it I told her I would remain until she was asleep I saw her close her beautiful eyes and heard her murmur something in her sleep as I bent over and kissed her adieu then I went away with a tranquil heart promising myself that I would henceforth enjoy my happiness and allow nothing to disturb it but the next day Bridget said to me as if quite by chance I have a large book in which I have written my thoughts everything that has occurred to my mind and I want you to see what I said of you the first day I met you we read together what concerned me in which we added a hundred foolish comments after which I began to turn the leaves in a mechanical way a phrase written in capital letters caught my eye on one of the pages I was turning I distinctly saw some words that were insignificant enough and I was about to read the rest when Bridget stopped me and said do not read that I threw the book on the table why certainly not I said I did not think what I was doing do you still take things seriously she asked smiling doubtless seeing my malady coming on again take the book I want you to read it the book lay on the table with an easy reach and I did not take my eyes from it I seemed to hear a voice whispering in my ear and I thought I saw grimacing before me with his glacial smile and dry face Dejeuner what are you doing here Dejeuner I asked as if I really saw him he looked as he did that evening when he leaned over my table and unfolded to me his catechism of vice I kept my eyes on the book and I felt vaguely stirring in my memory some forgotten words of the past the spirit of doubt hanging over my head had injected into my veins a drop of poison the vapor mounted to my head and I staggered like a drunken man what secret was Bridget concealing from me I knew very well that I had only to bend over and open the book but at what place how could I recognize the leaf on which my eye had chanced to fall my pride moreover would not permit me to take the book was it indeed pride oh God I said to myself with a frightful sense of sadness is the past a specter and can it come out of its tomb ah wretch that I am can I never love all my ideas of contempt for women all the phrases of mocking fatuity which I had repeated as a school boy his lesson suddenly came to my mind and strange to say while formally I did not believe in making a parade of them now it seemed that they were real or at least that they had been I had known Madame Pearson for months but I knew nothing of her past life and had never questioned her about it I had yielded to my love for her with confidence and without reservation I found a sort of pleasure in taking her just as she was for just what she seemed while suspicion and jealousy are so foreign to my nature that I was more surprised at feeling them toward Bridget than she was in discovering them in me never in my first life never in my first love nor in the affairs of daily life have I been distrustful but on the contrary bold and frank suspecting nothing I had to see my mistress betray me before my eyes before I would believe that she could deceive me Dejeuner himself while preaching to me after his manner joked me about the ease with which I could be duped the story of my life was an incontestable proof that I was credulous rather than suspicious and when the words in that book suddenly struck me it seemed to me I felt a new being within me a sort of unknown self my reason revolted against the feeling and I did not dare ask whether all this was leading me but the suffering I had endured the memory of the perfidy that I had witnessed the frightful cure I had imposed on myself the opinions of my friends the corrupt life I had led the sad truths I had learned as well as those that I had unconsciously surmised during my sad experience ending in debauchery contempt of love abuse of everything that is what I had in my heart although I did not suspect it and at the moment when life and hope were again being born within me all these furies that were being atrophied by time seized me by the throat and cried that they were yet alive I bent over and opened the book then immediately closed it and threw it on the table Bridget was looking at me in her beautiful eyes was neither wounded pride nor anger nothing but tender solicitude as if I were ill do you think I have secrets? she asked embracing me no, I replied I know nothing except that you are beautiful and that I would die loving you when I returned home to dinner I said to Larive who is Madame Pearson you have lived here many years, I continued you ought to know better than I what do they say of her here what do they think of her in the village what kind of life did she lead before I knew her whom did she receive as her friends in faith, sir I have never seen her do otherwise than she does every day that is to say walk in the valley play pique with her aunt and visit the poor the peasants call her Bridget Larose except that she goes through the woods alone at all hours of the day and night but that is when engaged in charitable work she is the ministering angel in the valley as for those she receives there are only the curay and Miser de Dalin during vacation who is this Miser de Dalin he owns the château at the foot of the mountain on the other side he only comes here for the chase is he young yes is he young Pearson no he was a friend of her husband has her husband been dead long five years on all saints day he was a worthy man and has this Miser de Dalin paid court to the widow in faith to tell the truth he stopped embarrassed well will you answer me some say so and some do not I know nothing and have seen nothing and you just told me that is all they have said and I suppose you knew that in a word yes or no yes sir I think so at least I arose from the table and walked down the road Murkinson was there I expected he would try to avoid me on the contrary he approached me sir he said you exhibited signs of anger which it does not become a man of my character to resent I wished to express my regret that I was charged to communicate a message which appeared so unwelcome I returned his compliment supposing he would leave me at once but he walked along at my side Dalin Dalin I repeated between my teeth who will tell me about Dalin for Larive had told me nothing except what a valet might learn from whom had he learned it from some servant or peasant with Madame Pearson and who knew all about their relations I could not get that Dalin out of my head and not being able to talk to anyone else I asked Murkinson about him if Murkinson was not a bad man he was either a fool or very shrewd I have never known which it is certain that he had reason to hate me and that he had treated me as meanly as possible Madame Pearson who had the greatest friendship with Ray had almost come to think equally well of the nephew he was proud of it and consequently jealous it is not love alone that inspires jealousy a favor, a kind word a smile from a beautiful mouth may arouse some people to jealous rage Murkinson appeared to be astonished I was somewhat astonished myself but who knows his own mind at his first words what I wanted to know and had decided not to satisfy me how does it happen that you have known Madame Pearson so long and so intimately I think so at least and have not met Mr. Dalin but doubtless you have some reason unknown to me for inquiring about him today all I can say is that as far as I know he is an honest man kind and charitable he was like you very intimate he is fond of hunting and entertains handsomely he and Madame Pearson were accustomed to devote much of their time to music he punctually attended to his works of charity and when in the country accompanied that lady on her rounds just as you do his family enjoys an excellent reputation at Paris I used to find him with Madame Pearson whenever I called his manners were excellent as for the rest of the concerns persons of his merit I believe that he only comes here for the chase he was a friend of her husband he is said to be rich and very generous but I know nothing about it except that with what tortured phrases was this dull tormentor teasing me I was ashamed to listen to him yet not daring to ask a single question or interrupt his vile insinuations I was alone on the promenade the poisoned arrow of suspicion had entered my heart I did not know whether I felt more of anger or of sorrow the confidence with which I had abandoned myself to my love for Bridget had been so sweet and so natural that I could not bring myself to believe that so much happiness had been built upon an illusion that sentiment of credulity which had attracted me to her seemed to prove that she was worthy was it possible that these four months of happiness were but a dream but after all I thought that woman has yielded too easily was there not deception in that pretended anxiety to have me leave the country is she not just like all the rest yes that is the way they all do they attempt to escape in order to experience the happiness of being pursued it is the feminine instinct was it not she who confessed her love by her own act at the very moment I had decided that she would never be mine did she not accept my arm the first day I met her if Delin has been her lover he probably is still there is a certain sort of liaison that has neither beginning nor end when chance ordains a meeting it is resumed when parted it is forgotten if that man comes here this summer she will probably see him without breaking with me what mysterious life is this that has charity for its cloak this liberty that cares nothing for opinion may they not be adventurers these two women with their little house their prudence and their caution which enable them to impose on people so easily assuredly for all I know I have fallen into an affair of gallantry when I thought I was engaged in a romance but what can I do there is no one here who knows and his uncle who will say still less who will save me how can I learn the truth thus spoke jealousy thus forgetting so many tears and all that I had suffered I had come at the end of two days to a point where I was tormenting myself with the idea that Bridget had yielded too easily thus like all who doubt I brushed aside sentiment and reason to dispute with facts to dissect my love while absorbed in these reflections I was slowly approaching Madame Pearson's I found the gate open and as I entered the garden I saw a light in the kitchen I thought of questioning the servant I stepped to the window a feeling of horror rooted me to the spot the servant was an old woman thin and wrinkled and bent a common deformity in people who have worked in the fields and utensils over a filthy sink a dirty candle fluttered in her trembling hand about her were pots, kettles and dishes the remains of dinner that a dog sniffed at from time to time as though ashamed a warm nauseating odor emanated from the reeking walls when the old woman caught sight of me she smiled in a confidential way she had seen me take leave of her mistress so well suited to my ignoble purpose I fled from that old woman as from jealousy personified and as if the stench of her cooking had come from my heart Bridget was at the window watering her well-beloved flowers a child of one of her neighbors was lying in a cradle at her side and she was gently rocking the cradle with her disengaged hand the child's mouth was full of bonbons and in gurgling eloquence it was addressing her sympathy to its nurse I sat down near her and kissed the child on its fat cheeks as if to imbibe some of its innocence Bridget accorded me a timid greeting she could see her troubled image in my eyes for my part I avoided her glance the more I admired her beauty and her air of candor the more I was convinced that such a woman was either an angel or a monster of perfidy I forced myself to recall and I confronted so to speak the man's insinuations with her presence and her face she is very beautiful I said to myself and very dangerous if she knows how to deceive but I will fathom her and I will sound her heart and she shall know who I am my dear I said after a long silence I have just given a piece of advice to a friend who consulted me he is an honest young man and he writes me that a woman he asks me what he ought to do what reply did you make two questions is she pretty do you love her if you love her forget her if she is pretty and you do not love her keep her for your pleasure there will always be time to quit her if it is merely a matter of beauty and one is worth as much as another hearing me speak thus Bridget put down the child she was holding and sat down at the other end of the room there was no light in the room the moon which was shining on the spot where she had been standing threw a shadow over the sofa on which she was now seated the words I had uttered were so heartless so cruel that I was dazed myself and my heart was filled with bitterness the child in its cradle began to cry then all three of us were silent while a cloud passed over the moon a servant entered the room with a light and carried the child away I arose Bridget also but she suddenly placed her hand on her heart and fell to the floor I hastened to her side she had not lost consciousness and begged me not to call anyone she explained that she was subject to violent palpitation of the heart and had been troubled by fainting spells from her youth that there was no danger and no remedy I kneeled beside her and placed it on my shoulder ah my friend she said I pity you listen to me I whispered in her ear I am a wretched fool but I can keep nothing on my heart who is this Monsieur de Della who lives on the mountain and comes to see you she appeared astonished to hear me mention that name Della she replied he was my husband's friend she looked at me as if to inquire why do you ask it seemed to me that her face wore a grieved expression I bit my lips if she wants to deceive me I thought I was foolish to question her Bridget rose with difficulty she took her fan and began to walk up and down the room she was breathing hard I had wounded her she was absorbed in thought and we exchanged two or three glances that were almost cold she stepped to her desk opened it my feet without a word but I was looking either at her nor at her letters I had just thrown a stone into the abyss and was listening to the echoes for the first time offended pride was depicted on Bridget's face there was no longer either anxiety or pity in her eyes and just as I had come to feel myself other than I had ever been so I saw in her a woman I did not know read that she said finally I stepped up to her read that read that she repeated in freezing tones I took the letters at that moment I felt so persuaded of her innocence that I was seized with remorse you remind me she said that I owe you the story of my life sit down and you shall learn it you will open these drawers and you will read all that I have written and all that has been written to me she sat down and motioned to me to a chair I saw that she found it difficult to speak she was pale as death her voice constrained her throat swollen Bridget Bridget I cried in the name of heaven do not speak God is my witness I was not born such as you see me during my life I have been neither suspicious nor distrustful I have been undone my heart has been seared by the treachery of others a frightful experience has led me to the very brink of the precipice and for a year I have seen nothing but evil here below God is my witness that up to this day I did not believe myself capable of playing the ignoble role I have assumed the meanest role of all that of a jealous lover God is my witness that I love you and that you are the only one in the world who can cure me of the past I have had to do up to this time with women who deceived me or who were unworthy of love I have led the life of a liberty I bear in my heart certain marks that will never be effaced is it my fault if calamity and base suggestion today planted in a heart whose fibers were still trembling with pain and ready to assimilate all that resembles sorrow have driven me to despair I have just heard the name of a man I have never met of whose existence I was ignorant I have been given to understand that there has been between you and him a certain intimacy that will question you I have suffered from it I have confessed to you and I have done you an irreparable wrong but rather than consent to what you propose I will throw it all on the fire my friend do not degrade me do not attempt to justify yourself do not punish me for suffering how could I in the bottom of my heart suspect you of deceiving me no you are beautiful and you are true words could utter and I am content if you knew what horrors what monstrous deceit the man who stands before you is seen if you knew how he has been treated how they have mocked at all that is good how they have taken pains to teach him all that leads to doubt to jealousy to despair alas alas my dear mistress if you knew whom you love do not reproach me but rather pity me forget that other beings than you exist who can know through what frightful trials through what pitiless suffering I have passed I did not expect this I did not anticipate this moment since you have become mine I realize what I have done I have felt in kissing you that my lips were not like yours unsullied in the name of heaven help me live God made me a better man than the one you see before you Bridget held out her hands and caressed me tenderly to tell her all that had led to this sad scene I spoke of what I had learned from Larive but did not dare confess that I had interviewed Merkinson she insisted that I listen to her explanation Miserde de Laine had loved her but he was a man of frivolous disposition dissipated and inconstant she had given him to understand that not wishing to remarry she could only request that he drop the role of suitor and he had yielded to her wishes but his visits had become more rare since that time until now they had ceased altogether she drew from the bundle a certain letter which she showed me the date of which was recent I could not help blushing as I found in it the confirmation of all she had said she assured me that she pardoned me and exacted a promise that in the future I would promptly tell her of any cause I might have to suspect her our treaty was sealed with a kiss and when I left her we had both forgotten that Miserde de Laine ever existed End of Chapter 1 Part 4 Book 2 Recording by Bill Borst Chapter 2 Part 4 Book 2 of Confession of the Child of the Century This is a LibriWalk's recording All LibriWalk's recordings are in the public domain For more information on the volunteer please visit LibriWalks.org Recording by Chessie Confession of a Child of the Century by Alfred de Musée Translated by Candle Warren Book 2 Part 4 Chapter 2 A kind of stagnant inertia tempered with bitter joy is characteristic of debauchery It is the sequence of the life of Caprice where nothing is regulated according to the needs of the body but everything according to the fantasy of the mind and one must be always ready to obey the behest of the other Youth and will can resist excess but nature silently avenges herself and the day when she decides to repair her forces the will struggles to retard her work and abuses her anew Finding about him then all the objects that were able to tempt him the evening before the man who is incapable of enjoying them looks down at them with a smile of disgust At the same time the objects which excite his desire are never attained with song for all that the debauchee loves he takes violent procession of his life is a fever His organs in order to search the depths of joy are forced to avail themselves of the stimulant of fermented liquors and sleepless nights In the days of ornwee and of idleness he feels more keenly than other men the disparity between his impotence and his temptations and in order to resist the latter pride must come to his aid and make him believe that he disdains them it is thus he spits on all the feasts and pleasures of his life and that between an ardent thirst and a profound satiety a feeling of tranquil vanity leads him to his death although I was no longer a debauchee it came to pass that my body suddenly remembered that it had been it is easy to understand why I had not felt the effects of it sooner while mourning my father's death every other thought was crowded from my mind then a passionate love succeeded while I was alone ornwee had nothing to struggle for sad or gay, fair or foul what matters it to him who is alone as sink that demi-metal drawn from the blue wane where it lies sleeping attracts to itself a ray of light when placed near a piece of green leather thus Brigitte's kisses gradually awakened in my heart what had been buried there at her side I perceived what I really was there were days when I felt such a strange sensation in the mornings that it is impossible for me to define it I awakened without a motive feeling like a man who has spent the night in eating and drinking to the point of exhaustion all external sensations caused me insupportable fatigue all well-known objects of daily life repelled and annoyed me if I spoke it was in ridicule of what others thought or of what I thought myself then extended on the bed as though incapable of motion I dismissed all thought of undertaking whatever had been agreed upon the evening before I recalled all the tender and loving things I had said to my mistress during my better moments and was not satisfied until I had spoiled and poisoned those memories of happy days can you not forget all that? Brigitte would sadly inquire if there are two different men in you do you not when the bad rouses himself forget to humor the good the patience with which Brigitte opposed those vagaries only served to excite my sinister gaiety strange that man who suffers wishes to make her whom he loves suffer to lose control of oneself is that not the worst of evils? is there anything more cruel for a woman than to hear a man turn to derision all there is that is sacred and mysterious? yet she did not flee from me she remained at my side while in my savage humor I insulted love and allowed insane ravings to escape from lips that were still moist with her kisses on such days contrary to my usual inclination I like to talk of Paris and speak of my life of debauchery as the most commendable thing in the world you are nothing but a saint I would laughingly observe you do not understand what I say there is nothing like those careless ones who make love without believing in it was that not the same as saying that I did not believe in it? very well, Brigitte replied teach me how to please you always I am perhaps as pretty as those mistresses whom you mourn if I have not their skill to divert you I beg that you will instruct me act as though you did not love me and let me love you without saying anything about it if I am devoted to religion I am also devoted to love what can I do to make you believe it? then she would stand before the mirror arraying herself as though for a ball affecting a coquetry that she was far from feeling trying to adopt my tone laughing and skipping about the room am I to your taste? she would ask which one of your mistresses do I resemble? am I beautiful enough to make you forget that anyone can believe in love? have I sufficiently careless air to suit you? then in the midst of that facetious joy she would turn her back and I could see her shudder until the flowers she had placed in her hair trembled I threw myself at her feet stop! I cried you resemble only too closely that which you try to imitate that which my mouth has been so wild as to conjure up before you lay aside those flowers and that dress let us wash away such mimicry with a sincere tear do not remind me that I am but a prodigal son I remember the past too well but even this repentance was cruel as it proved to her that the phantoms in my heart were full of reality in yielding to an impulse of horror I merely gave her to understand that her resignation and her desire to please me only served to call up an impure image and it was true I reached her sight transported with joy swearing that I would regret my past life on my knees I protested my respect for her then a gesture, a word, a trick of turning as she approached me recalled to my mind the fact that such and such a woman had made that gesture, had used that word had that same trick of turning poor devoted soul what did thou suffer in seeing me turn pale before thee in seeing my arms fall as though lifeless at my sight when the kiss died on my lips and the full glance of love that pure ray of God's light fled from my eyes like an arrow turned by the wind ah, Brigitte what diamonds trickled from thine eyes what treasures of charity did thou exhaust with patient hand how pitiful thy love for a long time good and bad days succeeded each other almost regularly I showed myself alternately cruel and scornful tender and devoted insensible and haughty, repentant and submissive the face of Dégionnaire which had at first appeared to me as though to warn me with thy was drifting was now constantly before me on my days of doubt and coldness I conversed so to speak with him often when I had offended Brigitte by some cruel mockery I said to myself if he were in my place he would do as I do and then at other times when putting on my head to go to see Brigitte I would look in my glass and say what is there so terrible about it anyway I have after all a pretty mistress she has given herself to a libertine let her take me for what I am I reached her side with a smile on my lips I sank into a chair with an air of deliberate insolence then I saw a Brigitte approach her large eyes filled with tenderness and anxiety I seized her little hands in mine and lost myself in an infinite dream how name a thing that is nameless was I good or bad was I distrustful or a fool it is useless to reflect on it it happened thus one of our neighbors was a young woman by the name of Madame Danielle she possessed some beauty and still more coquetry she was poor but tried to pass for rich she would come to see us after dinner and always played a heavy game against us although her losses embarrassed her she sang but had no voice in the solitude of that unknown village where an unkind fate had buried her she was consumed with an uncontrollable passion for pleasure she talked of nothing but Paris where she visited two or three times a year she pretended to keep up with the fashions my dear Brigitte assisted her as best she could while smiling with pity her husband was employed by the government he once a year would take her to the house of the chief of his department where retired in her best the little woman danced to her heart's content she would return with shining eyes and tired body she would come to us to tell of her prowess and her success in assaulting the masculine heart the rest of the time she read novels never taking the trouble to look after her household affairs which were not always in the best condition every time I saw her I laughed at her finding nothing so ridiculous as the high life she thought she was leading I would interrupt her description of a ball to inquire about her husband and her father-in-law both of whom she detested the one because he was her husband and the other because he was only a peasant in short we were always disputing on some subject in my evil moments I thought of paying court to that woman just for the sake of annoying Brigitte you see I said how perfectly Madame Danielle understands life in her presence brightly humor could one desire a more charming mistress I then paid her the most extravagant compliments her senseless chatting I described as unrestrained tempered by finesse her pretentious exaggerations as a natural desire to please was it her fault that she was poor at least she thought of nothing but pleasure and confessed it freely she did not preach sermons herself nor did she listen to them from others I went so far as to tell Brigitte that she ought to adopt her as a model and that she was just a kind of woman to please me poor Madame Danielle discovered signs of melancholy in Brigitte's eyes she was a strange creature as good and sincere when you could get finery out of her head as she was stupid when absorbed in such frivolous affairs on occasions she could be both good and stupid one fine day when they were walking together she threw herself into Brigitte's arms and told her that she had noticed that I was beginning to pay court to her and that I had made certain proposals to her the meaning of which was not doubtful but she knew that I was another slower and as for her whatever might happen she would die rather than destroy the happiness of a friend Brigitte thanked her and Madame Danielle having set her conscience at ease considered it no sin to randomly desolate by languishing glances in the evening when she had gone Brigitte in a severe tone told me what had happened she begged me to spare her such a front in the future not that I attach any importance to such pleasantries she said but if you have any love for me it seems to me it is useless to inform a third party that there are times when you have not is it possible I replied with a smile that it is important you see very well that I was only joking and that I do it only to pass away the time ah my friend my friend said Brigitte it is too bad that you must seek pastimes some days later I proposed that we go to the prefecture to see Madame Danielle dance she unwillingly consented while she was arranging her toilet I sat near the window and reproached her for losing her former cheerfulness what is the matter with you I asked I knew as well as she why did morose air that never leaves you in truth you make our life quite sad I have known you when you were more joyous more free and more open I am not flattered by the thought that I am responsible for the change but you have a cloister this position you were born to live in a convent it was Sunday as we were driving down the road Brigitte ordered the carriage to stop in order to say good evening to some friends fresh and vigorous country girls who were going to dance at TU when they had gone on Brigitte followed them with longing eyes her little rustic dance was very dear to her she dried her eyes with her handkerchief we found Madame Danielle at the prefecture in high feather I danced with her so often that it excited comment I paid her a thousand compliments and she replied as best she could Brigitte was near us and her eyes never left us I can hardly describe what I felt it was both pleasure and pain I clearly saw that she was jealous but instead of being moved by it I did all I could to increase her suffering on the return I expected to hear her reproaches she made none but remained silent for three days when I came to see her she would greet me kindly then we would sit down facing each other both of us preoccupied scarcely exchanging a word the third day she spoke overwhelmed me with bitter reproaches told me that my conduct was unreasonable I could not account for it except on the supposition that I had ceased to love her but she could not endure this life and would resort to anything rather than submit to my caprices and coldness her eyes were full of tears and I was about to ask her pardon when some words escaped her that were so bitter that my pride revolted I replied in the same tone and our quarrel became violent I told her that it was absurd to suppose that I could not inspire enough confidence in my mistress to escape the necessity of explaining my every action that Madame Danielle was only a pretext that she very well knew that I did not think of that woman seriously that her pretended jealousy was nothing but the expression of her desire for despotic power and that moreover if she had tired of this life it was easy enough to put an end to it very well she replied it is true that I do not recognize you as the same man I first knew you doubtless performed a little comedy to persuade me that you loved me you are tired of your role and can think of nothing but abuse you suspect me of deceiving you upon the first word and I am under no obligation to submit to your insults you are no longer the man I loved I know what your sufferings are I replied I cannot make a step without exciting your alarm soon I will not be permitted to address a word to anyone but you you pretend that you have been abused in order that you may be justified in offering insult you accuse me of tyranny in order that I may become your slave since I troubled your repose I leave you in peace you will never see me again we parted in anger and I passed an entire day without seeing her the next night toward midnight I was seized by a feeling of melancholy that I could not resist I shed a torrent of tears I overwhelmed myself with reproaches that I richly deserved I told myself that I was nothing but a fool and a cowardly fool at that to make the nobles the best of creatures suffer in this way entering the garden I saw that her room was lighted and the flash of suspicion crossed my mind she does not expect me at this hour I said to myself who knows what she may be doing I left her in tears yesterday I may find her ready to sing today and carrying no more for me than if I never existed I must enter gently in order to surprise her I advanced on tiptoe and the door being open I could see Brigitte without being seen she was seated at her table and was writing in that same book that had aroused my suspicions she held in her left hand a little box of white wood which she looked at from time to time and trembled there was something sinister in the quiet that reigned in the room her secretary was open and several bundles of papers were carefully ranged in order I made some noise at the door she rose, went to the secretary, closed it then came to me with a smile Octave, she said we are two children if you had not come here I would have gone to you pardon me, I was wrong Madame Danielle comes to dinner tomorrow make me repent if you choose of what you call my despotism if you but love me I am happy let us forget what is past and let us not spoil our happiness end of chapter 2, part 4, book 2


If loving you means I have to abandon me, then I have to ask myself, why am I willing to abandon me to keep you happy, to abandon me to love you? And all of us in life, without exception, all of you in here, we have all done degrees of this and still are where we forsake something essential to who we are in order to fit in with someone else's idea of who they want us to be.


There are anti-inflammatory drugs that may reduce the risk of Alzheimer's disease, but stomach liver and kidney toxicity precludes their widespread use. So maybe using an anti-inflammatory food like the spice turmeric found in curry powder could offer the benefits without the risks? Before even considering putting it to the test, though, one might ask, well, do populations that eat a lot of turmeric have a lower prevalence of dementia? They may actually have the lowest reported prevalence of dementia in Alzheimer's. OK, so far so good. But maybe because it's such an impoverished area that people just don't live very long. So you need to know more than just prevalence how many Alzheimer's cases are walking around, but the incidence of the disease, how many new people are coming down with it every year, which reflects the kind of true rate of disease occurrence. In rural Pennsylvania, the incidence rate of Alzheimer's disease among seniors is 19. 19 people in 1,000 over age 65 develop Alzheimer's every year in rural Pennsylvania. In rural India, using the same diagnostic criteria, that same rate is 3. Confirming they have among the lowest reported Alzheimer's rates in the world. Although there isn't much to go on, the lower prevalence of Alzheimer's in India is generally attributed to the turmeric consumption as part of curry, and it's assumed that people who use turmeric regularly have a lower incidence of the disease, but let's not just assume 1,000 people tested and those who consume curry, at least occasionally, did do better on simple cognitive tests than those that didn't. Those that ate curry often had only about half the odds of showing cognitive impairment after adjusting for a wide variety of potential confounding factors. This suggests a curry consumption may be associated with better cognitive performance. Of course, it probably matters what's being curried. Are we talking chicken masala, or chana masala, with chickpeas instead of chicks? It may be no coincidence that the country with among the lowest rates of Alzheimer's has among the lowest rates of meat consumption, with a significant chunk of the population eating meat-free and egg-free diets. We've known for over 20 years now that those who eat meat, red meat or white meat, appear between two to three times more likely to become demented compared to vegetarians, and a longer one eats meat-free, the lower the associated risk of dementia, whether or not you curry favor with your brain.


NASA's spacecraft flying record-setting formation presented by Science at NASA. Summertime air shows are fun to watch, especially when aircraft fly in tight formation. The sight of airplanes soaring overhead practically wingtip to wingtip is thrilling to behold. Ford of NASA's spacecraft recently performed an equally thrilling maneuver. In October 2015, the satellites of NASA's Magnetospheric Multiscale or MMS mission gather into a tetrahedral formation with each spacecraft at the tip of a four-sided pyramid only six miles across. Moving together as one, they race around Earth at 15,000 miles per hour. Conrad Scheff, MMS orbital dynamicist at NASA's Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenville, Maryland says, no other multi-spacepair formation has flown this close. The purpose of the maneuver was to study the inner workings of magnetic reconnection, sometimes called the universe-favorite way of making things explode. Magnetic reconnection can happen anywhere magnetic field permeates space. Magnetic lines of force, cross, cancel, reconnect. And in a sudden explosion, magnetic energy is unleashed in the form of heat and charged particles, racing away in all directions. This process is linked to a wide range of explosions from flares on the Sun to massive eruptions in the course of active galaxies. It also happens in Earth's magnetic field. Not far above our own planet, small-scale magnetic reconnection sparks geomagnetic storms, disturbances of Earth's magnetosphere that, among other effects, can trigger aurora. MMS was launched in March 2015 to study the process at close range. By studying it close to home, we can better understand it throughout the universe. John Dorelli, a member of the MMS science team at the Goddard Space Flight Center, explains, To understand magnetic reconnection, we have to measure thin layers of fast-moving electrically-charged material called current sheets that are typically six miles or less in thickness. That is why the spacecraft had to fly in such tight formation. Down on Earth, airplanes can fly much closer together than that, but they have a big advantage over MMS. Shift says, First, aircraft flying information above Earth enjoys the control afforded by the atmosphere. That is, lift and drag. These forces are akin to the friction that allows your car's tires to grip the road. Spacecraft do not ever feel these forces. A highway analogy will be driving on ice. Under these frictionless conditions, you always allow far more space between yourself and other drivers. Second says, Shift. The pilot in an aircraft is always able to see the other planes, visually and via instrumentation. In space, the spacecraft can see each other. They require much more sophisticated instrumentation to know where the others are. MMS solves the formation problem in part using its navigator system. Shift says, The navigator uses GPS signals and a model of the orbital dynamics so that each spacecraft knows where it is at all times. Each spacecraft also has an acceleration measurement and control system. Shift explains that this system carefully measures the output of the onboard thrusters and either steps on the pedal or the steps on the brake to ensure that control is maintained. Cutting-edge computer software called the Formation Design and Control Algorithm helps too. Shift says, It analyzes the dynamics of MMS and finds orbits where the spacecraft can safely gather in pyramid form. Six miles set a record, but it was only the beginning. Tom Moore, the MMS project scientist at the Goddard Space Flight Center says, As of September 2016, we have gotten the formation down to 4.5 miles. A tidal formation will give us the key data from what's called the electron dissipation region of the reconnection zone. Rarely has space physics been so thrilling. For more about MMS, visit www.nasa.gov. For updates from the reconnection zone, stay tuned to science.nasa.gov.