But unless Elaine was a monster of wickedness, unless she had no heart
and knew how to lie and to deceive as well as a girl whose only pleasure
consists in making all those who are captivated by her beauty, play the
laughable part of dupes, unless that mask of youth concealed a most
polluted soul, if there had been any unhappy episode in her life, if she
had endured the horrors of violation, and gone through all the horrors
of desolation, fear and shame, would not something visible, something
disgusting, attacks of low spirits, and of gloom, and disgust with
everything have remained, which would have shown the progress of some
mysterious malady, the gradual weakening of the brain and the
enlargement of an incurable wound?
She would have cried occasionally, would have been lost in thought and
become confused when spoken to, she would scarcely have taken any
interest in anything that happened, either at home or elsewhere. Kisses
would have become torture to her, and would have only excited a fever of
revolt in her inanimate being.
I fancy that I can see such a victim of inexorable Destiny, as if she
were a consumptive woman whose days are numbered, and who knows it. She
smiles feebly when any one tries to get her out of her torpor, to amuse
her and to instill a little hope into her soul. She does not speak, but
remains sitting silently at a window for whole days together, and one
might think that her large, dreamy eyes are looking at strange sights in
the depths of the sky, and see a long, attractive road there. But
Elaine, on the contrary, thought of nothing but of amusing herself, of
enjoying life and of laughing, and added all the tricks of a girl who
has just left school, to her seductive grace of a young woman. She
carried men away with her; she was most seductive, and loving seemed to
be her creation. She thought of nothing but of little coquettish acts
that made her more adorable, and of tender innuendos that triumph over
everything, that bring men to their knees and tempt them.
It was thus that I formerly dreamt of the woman who was to be my wife,
and this was the manner in which I looked on life in common; and now
this perpetual joy irritates me like a challenge, like some piece of
insolent boasting, and those lips that seek mine, and which offer
themselves so alluringly and coaxingly to me, make me sad and torture
me, as if they breathed nothing but a Lie.
Ah! If she had been the lover of another man before marriage, if she had
belonged to some one else besides me, it could only have been from love,
without altogether knowing what she wanted or what she was doing! And,
now, because she had acquired a name by marriage, because she had
accidentally extricated herself from that false step and thought she had
won the game, now that she fancied that I had not perceived anything,
that I adored her and possessed her absolutely!
How wretched I was! Should I never be able to escape from that night
which was growing darker and darker, which was imprisoning me, driving
me mad and raising an increasing and impenetrable barrier between Elaine
and me. Would not she, in the end, be the stronger, she whom I loved so
dearly, would not she envelope me in so much love, that at last I should
again find the happiness that I had lost, as if it were a calm, sunlit
haven, and thus forget this horrible nightmare when I fell on my knees
before her beauty, with a contrite heart and pricked by remorse, and
happy to give myself to her for ever, altogether and more passionately
than at the divine period of our betrothal.