e,
scandalized, exposed to the insults of the world, had to endure from me
all the wrongs that a wrathful and cruel libertine can inflict on woman.

After these distressing scenes, in which my own spirit exhausted itself
in suffering and in painful contemplation of the past; after recovering
from that frenzy, a strange access of love, an extreme exaltation, led me
to treat my mistress like an idol, or a divinity. A quarter of an hour
after insulting her I was on my knees before her; when I was not accusing
her of some crime, I was begging her pardon; when I was not mocking, I
was weeping. Then, seized by a delirium of joy, I almost lost my reason
in the violence of my transports; I did not know what to do, what to say,
what to think, in order to repair the evil I had done. I took Brigitte in
my arms, and made her repeat a hundred times that she loved me and that
she pardoned me. I threatened to expiate my evil deeds by blowing out my
brains if I ever ill-treated her again. These periods of exaltation
sometimes lasted several hours, during which time I exhausted myself in
foolish expressions of love and esteem. Then morning came; day appeared;
I fell asleep from sheer exhaustion, and I awakened with a smile on my
lips, mocking at everything, believing in nothing.

During these terrible hours, Brigitte appeared to forget that there was a
man in me other than the one she saw. When I asked her pardon she
shrugged her shoulders as if to answer: "Do you not know that I pardon
you?" She would not complain as long as a spark of love remained in my
heart; she assured me that all was good and sweet coming from me, insults
as well as tears.

And yet as time passed my evil grew worse, my moments of malignity and
irony became more sombre and intractable. A real physical fever attended
my outbursts of passion; I awakened trembling in every limb and covered
with cold sweat. Brigitte, too, although she did not complain of it,
began to fail in health. When I started to abuse her she would leave me
without a word and lock herself in her room. Thank God, I never raised my
hand against her; in my most violent moments I would rather have died
than touched her.

One evening the rain was driving against the windows; we were alone, the
curtains were closed.

"I am in happy humor this evening," I said to Brigitte, "and yet the
horrible weather saddens me. Let us seek some diversion in spite of the
storm."

I arose and lighted all the can