Why is this? I really cannot tell. I have never experienced that intoxication1 of the heart which we call love! Never have I lived in that dream, in that exaltation, in that state of madness into which the image of a woman casts us. I have never been pursued, haunted, roused to fever heat, lifted up to Paradise by the thought of meeting, or by the possession of, a being who had suddenly become for me more desirable than any good fortune, more beautiful than any other creature, of more consequence than the whole world! I have never wept, I have never suffered on account of any of you. I have not passed my nights sleepless2, while thinking of her. I have no experience of waking thoughts bright with thought and memories of her. I have never known the wild rapture3 of hope before her arrival, or the divine sadness of regret when she went from me, leaving behind her a delicate odor of violet powder.
I have never been in love.
I have also often asked myself why this is. And truly I can scarcely tell. Nevertheless I have found some reasons for it; but they are of a metaphysical character, and perhaps you will not be able to appreciate them.
I suppose I am too critical of women to submit to their fascination4. I ask you to forgive me for this remark. I will explain what I mean. In every creature there is a moral being and a physical being. In order to love, it would be necessary for me to find a harmony between these two beings which I have never found. One always predominates; sometimes the moral, sometimes the physical.
The intellect which we have a right to require in a woman, in order to love her, is not the same as the virile5 intellect. It is more, and it is less. A woman must be frank, delicate, sensitive, refined, impressionable. She has no need of either power or initiative in thought, but she must have kindness, elegance6, tenderness, coquetry and that faculty7 of assimilation which, in a little while, raises her to an equality with him who shares her life. Her greatest quality must be tact8, that subtle sense which is to the mind what touch is to the body. It reveals to her a thousand little things, contours, angles and forms on the plane of the intellectual.
Very frequently pretty women have not intellect to correspond with their personal charms. Now, the slightest lack of harmony strikes me and pains me at the first glance. In friendship this is not of importance. Friendship is a compact in which one fairly shares defects and merits. We may judge of friends, whether man or woman, giving them credit for what is good, and overlooking what is bad in them, appreciating them at their just value, while giving ourselves up to an intimate, intense and charming sympathy.
In order to love, one must be blind, surrender one's self absolutely, see nothing, question nothing, understand nothing. One must adore the weakness as well as the beauty of the beloved object, renounce9 all judgment10, all reflection, all perspicacity11.
I am incapable12 of such blindness and rebel at unreasoning subjugation13. This is not all. I have such a high and subtle idea of harmony that nothing can ever fulfill14 my ideal. But you will call me a madman. Listen to me. A woman, in my opinion, may have an exquisite15 soul and charming body without that body and that soul being in perfect harmony with one another. I mean that persons who have noses made in a certain shape should not be expected to think in a certain fashion. The fat have no right to make use of the same words and phrases as the thin. You, who have blue eyes, madame, cannot look at life and judge of things and events as if you had black eyes. The shade of your eyes should correspond, by a sort of fatality16, with the shade of your thought. In perceiving these things, I have the scent17 of a bloodhound. Laugh if you like, but it is so.
And yet, once I imagined that I was in love for an hour, for a day. I had foolishly yielded to the influence of surrounding circumstances. I allowed myself to be beguiled18 by a mirage19 of Dawn. Would you like me to tell you this short story?
I met, one evening, a pretty, enthusiastic little woman who took a poetic20 fancy to spend a night with me in a boat on a river. I would have preferred a room and a bed; however, I consented to the river and the boat.
It was in the month of June. My fair companion chose a moonlight night in order the better to stimulate21 her imagination.
We had dined at a riverside inn and set out in the boat about ten o'clock. I thought it a rather foolish kind of adventure, but as my companion pleased me I did not worry about it. I sat down on the seat facing her; I seized the oars22, and off we starred.
I could not deny that the scene was picturesque23. We glided24 past a wooded isle25 full of nightingales, and the current carried us rapidly over the river covered with silvery ripples26. The tree toads27 uttered their shrill28, monotonous29 cry; the frogs croaked30 in the grass by the river's bank, and the lapping of the water as it flowed on made around us a kind of confused murmur31 almost imperceptible, disquieting32, and gave us a vague sensation of mysterious fear.
The sweet charm of warm nights and of streams glittering in the moonlight penetrated33 us. It was delightful34 to be alive and to float along thus, and to dream and to feel at one's side a sympathetic and beautiful young woman.
I was somewhat affected35, somewhat agitated36, somewhat intoxicated37 by the pale brightness of the night and the consciousness of my proximity38 to a lovely woman.
“Come and sit beside me,” she said.
I obeyed.
She went on:
“Recite some poetry for me.”
This appeared to be rather too much. I declined; she persisted. She certainly wanted to play the game, to have a whole orchestra of sentiment, from the moon to the rhymes of poets. In the end I had to yield, and, as if in mockery, I repeated to her a charming little poem by Louis Bouilhet, of which the following are the last verses:
“I hate the poet who with tearful eye
Murmurs some name while gazing tow'rds a star,
Who sees no magic in the earth or sky,
Unless Lizette or Ninon be not far.
Divine, unless a petticoat he ties
Amorously to the branches of the trees
Or nightcap to the grass, is scarcely wise.
“He has not heard the Eternal's thunder tone,
The voice of Nature in her various moods,
Who cannot tread the dim ravines alone,
I expected some reproaches. Nothing of the sort. She murmured:
“How true it is!”
I was astonished. Had she understood?
Our boat had gradually approached the bank and become entangled41 in the branches of a willow42 which impeded43 its progress. I placed my arm round my companion's waist, and very gently approached my lips towards her neck. But she repulsed44 me with an abrupt45, angry movement.
“Have done, pray! How rude you are!”
I tried to draw her toward me. She resisted, caught hold of the tree, and was near flinging us both into the water. I deemed it prudent46 to cease my importunities.
She said:
“I would rather capsize you. I feel so happy. I want to dream. This is so delightful.” Then, in a slightly malicious47 tone, she added:
“Have you already forgotten the verses you repeated to me just now?”
She was right. I became silent.
She went on:
“Come, now!”
I began to think the night long and my position ridiculous.
My companion said to me:
“Will you make me a promise?”
“Yes. What is it?”
“What? Say what you mean!”
“Here is what I mean: I want to lie down on my back at the bottom of the boat with you by my side. But I forbid you to touch me, to embrace me —in short—to caress50 me.”
I promised. She said warningly:
“If you move, 'I'll capsize the boat.”
And then we lay down side by side, our eyes turned toward the sky, while the boat glided slowly through the water. We were rocked by its gentle motion. The slight sounds of the night came to us more distinctly in the bottom of the boat, sometimes causing us to start. And I felt springing up within me a strange, poignant51 emotion, an infinite tenderness, something like an irresistible52 impulse to open my arms in order to embrace, to open my heart in order to love, to give myself, to give my thoughts, my body, my life, my entire being to some one.
My companion murmured, like one in a dream:
“Where are we; Where are we going? It seems to me that I am leaving the earth. How sweet it is! Ah, if you loved me—a little!!!”
My heart began to throb53. I had no answer to give. It seemed to me that I loved her. I had no longer any violent desire. I felt happy there by her side, and that was enough for me.
And thus we remained for a long, long time without stirring. We had clasped each other's hands; some delightful force rendered us motionless, an unknown force stronger than ourselves, an alliance, chaste54, intimate, absolute, of our beings lying there side by side, belonging to each other without contact. What was this? How do I know? Love, perhaps?
Little by little the dawn appeared. It was three o'clock in the morning. Slowly a great brightness spread over the sky. The boat knocked up against something. I rose up. We had come close to a tiny islet.
But I remained enchanted55, in an ecstasy56. Before us stretched the firmament57, red, pink, violet, spotted58 with fiery59 clouds resembling golden vapor60. The river was glowing with purple and three houses on one side of it seemed to be burning.
I bent61 toward my companion. I was going to say, “Oh! look!” But I held my tongue, quite dazed, and I could no longer see anything except her. She, too, was rosy62, with rosy flesh tints63 with a deeper tinge64 that was partly a reflection of the hue65 of the sky. Her tresses were rosy; her eyes were rosy; her teeth were rosy; her dress, her laces, her smile, all were rosy. And in truth I believed, so overpowering was the illusion, that the dawn was there in the flesh before me.
She rose softly to her feet, holding out her lips to me; and I moved toward her, trembling, delirious66 feeling indeed that I was going to kiss Heaven, to kiss happiness, to kiss a dream that had become a woman, to kiss the ideal which had descended67 into human flesh.
She said to me: “You have a caterpillar68 in your hair.” And, suddenly, I felt as sad as if I had lost all hope in life.
That is all, madame. It is puerile69, silly, stupid. But I am sure that since that day it would be impossible for me to love. And yet—who can tell?
[The young man upon whom this letter was found was yesterday taken out of the Seine between Bougival and Marly. An obliging bargeman, who had searched the pockets in order to ascertain70 the name of the deceased, brought this paper to the author.]
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1
intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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sleepless
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| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
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rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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virile
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| adj.男性的；有男性生殖力的；有男子气概的；强有力的 | |
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elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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8
tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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9
renounce
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| v.放弃；拒绝承认，宣布与…断绝关系 | |
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10
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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perspicacity
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| n. 敏锐, 聪明, 洞察力 | |
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12
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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subjugation
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| n.镇压，平息，征服 | |
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14
fulfill
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| vt.履行，实现，完成；满足，使满意 | |
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15
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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16
fatality
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| n.不幸，灾祸，天命 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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18
beguiled
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| v.欺骗( beguile的过去式和过去分词 )；使陶醉；使高兴；消磨（时间等） | |
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19
mirage
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| n.海市蜃楼，幻景 | |
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20
poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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21
stimulate
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| vt.刺激，使兴奋；激励，使…振奋 | |
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22
oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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23
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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24
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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25
isle
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| n.小岛，岛 | |
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26
ripples
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| 逐渐扩散的感觉( ripple的名词复数 ) | |
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27
toads
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| n.蟾蜍，癞蛤蟆( toad的名词复数 ) | |
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28
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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29
monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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30
croaked
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| v.呱呱地叫( croak的过去式和过去分词 )；用粗的声音说 | |
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31
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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32
disquieting
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| adj.令人不安的，令人不平静的v.使不安，使忧虑，使烦恼( disquiet的现在分词 ) | |
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33
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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34
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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37
intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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38
proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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39
bard
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| n.吟游诗人 | |
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40
mid
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| adj.中央的，中间的 | |
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41
entangled
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| adj.卷入的；陷入的；被缠住的；缠在一起的v.使某人（某物/自己）缠绕，纠缠于（某物中），使某人（自己）陷入（困难或复杂的环境中）( entangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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42
willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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43
impeded
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| 阻碍，妨碍，阻止( impede的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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44
repulsed
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| v.击退( repulse的过去式和过去分词 )；驳斥；拒绝 | |
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45
abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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46
prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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47
malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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48
plied
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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49
discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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50
caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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51
poignant
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| adj.令人痛苦的，辛酸的，惨痛的 | |
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52
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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53
throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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54
chaste
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| adj.贞洁的；有道德的；善良的；简朴的 | |
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55
enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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56
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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57
firmament
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| n.苍穹；最高层 | |
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58
spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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60
vapor
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| n.蒸汽，雾气 | |
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61
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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62
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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63
tints
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| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
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64
tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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65
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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66
delirious
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| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
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67
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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68
caterpillar
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| n.毛虫，蝴蝶的幼虫 | |
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69
puerile
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| adj.幼稚的，儿童的 | |
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70
ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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