original short stories-3-第9部分

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He　ate　slowly；　like　a　man　who　wants　to　prolong　the　meal；　who　does　not
want　to　be　alone。

Then　he　smoked　several　pipes　in　the　hall　while　the　table　was　being
cleared。　　After　that　he　went　back　to　his　room。

As　soon　as　he　had　locked　himself　in　he　looked；　under　the　bed；　opened　all
the　closets；　explored　every　corner；　rummaged　through　all　the　furniture。
Then　he　lighted　the　candles　on　the　mantelpiece；　and；　turning　round
several　times；　ran　his　eye　all　over　the　apartment　with　an　anguish　of
terror　that　distorted　his　face；　for　he　knew　well　that　he　would　see　her；
as　he　did　every　nightlittle　Louise　Roque；　the　little　girl　he　had
attacked　and　afterward　strangled。

Every　night　the　odious　vision　came　back　again。　　First　he　seemed　to　hear　a
kind　of　roaring　sound；　such　as　is　made　by　a　threshing　machine　or　the
distant　passage　of　a　train　over　a　bridge。　　Then　he　commenced　to　gasp；　to
suffocate；　and　he　had　to　unbutton　his　collar　and　his　belt。　　He　moved
about　to　make　his　blood　circulate；　he　tried　to　read；　he　attempted　to
sing。　　It　was　in　vain。　　His　thoughts；　in　spite　of　himself；　went　back　to
the　day　of　the　murder　and　made　him　begin　it　all　over　again　in　all　its
most　secret　details；　with　all　the　violent　emotions　he　had　experienced
from　the　first　minute　to　the　last。

He　had　felt　on　rising　that　morning；　the　morning　of　the　horrible　day；　a
little　dizziness　and　headache；　which　he　attributed　to　the　heat；　so　that
he　remained　in　his　room　until　breakfast　time。

After　the　meal　he　had　taken　a　siesta；　then；　toward　the　close　of　the
afternoon；　he　had　gone　out　to　breathe　the　fresh；　soothing　breeze　under
the　trees　in　the　wood。

But；　as　soon　as　he　was　outside；　the　heavy；　scorching　air　of　the　plain
oppressed　him　still　more。　　The　sun；　still　high　in　the　heavens；　poured
down　on　the　parched　soil　waves　of　burning　light。　　Not　a　breath　of　wind
stirred　the　leaves。　　Every　beast　and　bird；　even　the　grasshoppers；　were
silent。　　Renardet　reached　the　tall　trees　and　began　to　walk　over　the　moss
where　the　Brindille　produced　a　slight　freshness　of　the　air　beneath　the
immense　roof　of　branches。　　But　he　felt　ill　at　ease。　　It　seemed　to　him
that　an　unknown；　invisible　hand　was　strangling　him；　and　he　scarcely
thought　of　anything；　having　usually　few　ideas　in　his　head。　　For　the　last
three　months　only　one　thought　haunted　him；　the　thought　of　marrying　again。
He　suffered　from　living　alone；　suffered　from　it　morally　and　physically。
Accustomed　for　ten　years　past　to　feeling　a　woman　near　him；　habituated　to
her　presence　every　moment；　he　had　need；　an　imperious　and　perplexing　need
of　such　association。　　Since　Madame　Renardet's　death　he　had　suffered
continually　without　knowing　why；　he　had　suffered　at　not　feeling　her　dress
brushing　past　him；　and；　above　all；　from　no　longer　being　able　to　calm　and
rest　himself　in　her　arms。　　He　had　been　scarcely　six　months　a　widower　and
he　was　already　looking　about　in　the　district　for　some　young　girl　or　some
widow　he　might　marry　when　his　period　of　mourning　was　at　an　end。

He　had　a　chaste　soul；　but　it　was　lodged　in　a　powerful；　herculean　body；
and　carnal　imaginings　began　to　disturb　his　sleep　and　his　vigils。　　He
drove　them　away；　they　came　back　again；　and　he　murmured　from　time　to　time；
smiling　at　himself：

〃Here　I　am；　like　St。　Anthony。〃

Having　this　special　morning　had　several　of　these　visions；　the　desire
suddenly　came　into　his　breast　to　bathe　in　the　Brindille　in　order　to
refresh　himself　and　cool　his　blood。

He　knew　of　a　large　deep　pool；　a　little　farther　down；　where　the　people　of
the　neighborhood　came　sometimes　to　take　a　dip　in　summer。　　He　went　there。

Thick　willow　trees　hid　this　clear　body　of　water　where　the　current　rested
and　went　to　sleep　for　a　while　before　starting　on　its　way　again。
Renardet；　as　he　appeared；　thought　he　heard　a　light　sound；　a　faint
plashing　which　was　not　that　of　the　stream　on　the　banks。　　He　softly　put
aside　the　leaves　and　looked。　　A　little　girl；　quite　naked　in　the
transparent　water；　was　beating　the　water　with　both　hands；　dancing　about
in　it　and　dipping　herself　with　pretty　movements。　　She　was　not　a　child　nor
was　she　yet　a　woman。　　She　was　plump　and　developed；　while　preserving　an
air　of　youthful　precocity；　as　of　one　who　had　grown　rapidly。　　He　no　longer
moved；　overcome　with　surprise；　with　desire；　holding　his　breath　with　a
strange；　poignant　emotion。　　He　remained　there；　his　heart　beating　as　if
one　of　his　sensuous　dreams　had　just　been　realized；　as　if　an　impure　fairy
had　conjured　up　before　him　this　young　creature；　this　little　rustic　Venus；
rising　from　the　eddies　of　the　stream　as　the　real　Venus　rose　from　the
waves　of　the　sea。

Suddenly　the　little　girl　came　out　of　the　water；　and；　without　seeing　him；
came　over　to　where　he　stood；　looking　for　her　clothes　in　order　to　dress
herself。　　As　she　approached　gingerly；　on　account　of　the　sharp…pointed
stones；　he　felt　himself　pushed　toward　her　by　an　irresistible　force；　by　a
bestial　transport　of　passion；　which　stirred　his　flesh；　bewildered　his
mind　and　made　him　tremble　from　head　to　foot。

She　remained　standing　some　seconds　behind　the　willow　tree　which　concealed
him　from　view。　　Then；　losing　his　reason　entirely；　he　pushed　aside　the
branches；　rushed　on　her　and　seized　her　in　his　arms。　　She　fell；　too
terrified　to　offer　any　resistance；　too　terror…stricken　to　cry　out。　　He
seemed　possessed；　not　understanding　what　he　was　doing。

He　woke　from　his　crime　as　one　wakes　from　a　nightmare。　　The　child　burst
out　weeping。

〃Hold　your　tongue！　　Hold　your　tongue！〃　he　said。　　〃I'll　give　you　money。〃

But　she　did　not　hear　him　and　went　on　sobbing。

〃Come　now；　hold　your　tongue！　　Do　hold　your　tongue！　　Keep　quiet！〃　he
continued。

She　kept　shrieking　as　she　tried　to　free　herself。　　He　suddenly　realized
that　he　was　ruined；　and　he　caught　her　by　the　neck　to　stop　her　mouth　from
uttering　these　heartrending；　dreadful　screams。　　As　she　continued　to
struggle　with　the　desperate　strength　of　a　being　who　is　seeking　to　fly
from　death；　he　pressed　his　enormous　hands　on　the　little　throat　swollen
with　screaming；　and　in　a　few　seconds　he　had　strangled　her；　so　furiously
did　he　grip　her。　　He　had　not　intended　to　kill　her；　but　only　to　make　her
keep　quiet。

Then　he　stood　up；　overwhelmed　with　horror。

She　lay　before　him；　her　face　bleeding　and　blackned。　　He　was　about　to　rush
away　when　there　sprang　up　in　his　agitated　soul　the　mysterious　and
undefined　instinct　that　guides　all　beings　in　the　hour　of　danger。

He　was　going　to　throw　the　body　into　the　water；　but　another　impulse　drove
him　toward　the　clothes；　which　he　made　into　a　small　package。　　Then；　as　he
had　a　piece　of　twine　in　his　pocket；　he　tied　it　up　and　hid　it　in　a　deep
portion　of　the　stream；　beneath　the　trunk　of　a　tree　that　overhung　the
Brindille。

Then　he　went　off　at　a　rapid　pace；　reached　the　meadows；　took　a　wide　turn
in　order　to　show　himself　to　some　peasants　who　dwelt　some　distance　away　at
the　opposite　side　of　the　district；　and　came　back　to　dine　at　the　usual
hour；　telling　his　servants　all　that　was　supposed　to　have　happened　during
his　walk。

He　slept；　however；　that　night；　he　slept　with　a　heavy；　brutish　sleep　like
the　sleep　of　certain　persons　condemned　to　death。　　He　did　not　open　his
eyes　until　the　first　glimmer　of　dawn；　and　he　waited　till　his　usual　hour
for　riding；　so　as　to　excite　no　suspicion。

Then　he　had　to　be　present　at　the　inquiry　as　to　the　cause　of　death。　　He
did　so　like　a　somnambulist；　in　a　kind　of　vision　which　showed　him　men　and
things　as　in　a　dream；　in　a　cloud　of　intoxication；　with　that　sense　of
unreality　which　perplexes　the　mind　at　the　time　of　the　greatest
catastrophes。

But　the　agonized　cry　of　Mother　Roque　pierced　his　heart。　　At　that　moment
he　had　felt　inclined　to　cast　himself　at　the　old　woman's　feet　and　to
exclaim：

〃I　am　the　guilty　one！〃

But　he　had　restrained　himself。　　He　went　back；　however；　during　the　night
to　fish　up　the　dead　girl's　wooden　shoes；　in　order　to　place　them　on　her
mother's　threshold。

As　long　as　the　inquiry　lasted；　as　long　as　it　was　necessary　to　lead
justice　astray　he　was　calm；　master　of　himself；　crafty　and　smiling。　　He
discussed　quietly　with　the　magistrates　all　the　suppositions　that　passed
through　their　minds；　combated　their　opinions　and　demolished　their
arguments。　　He　even　took　a　keen　and　mournful　pleasure　in　disturbing　their
investigations；　in　embroiling　their　ideas；　in　showing　the　innocence　of
those　whom　they　suspected。

But　as　soon　as　the　inquiry　was　abandoned　he　became　gradually　nervous；
more　excitable　than　he　had　been　before；　although　he　mastered　his
irritability。　　Sudden　noises　made　him　start　with　fear；　he　shuddered　at
the　slightest　thing　and　trembled　sometimes　from　head　to　foot　when　a　fly
alighted　on　his　forehead。　　Then　he　was　seized　with　an　imperious　desire
for　motion；　which　impelled　him　to　take　long　walks　and　to　remain　up　whole
nights　pacing　up　and　down　his　room。

It　was　not　that　he　was　goaded　by　remorse。　　His　brutal　nature　did　not　lend
itself　to　any　shade　of　sentiment　or　of　moral　terror。　　A　man　of　energy　and
even　of　violence；　born　to　make　war；　to　ravage　conquered　countries　and　to
massacre　the　vanquished；　full　of　the　savage　instincts　of　the　hunter　and
the　fighter；　he　scarcely　took　count　of　human　life。　　Though　he　respected
the　Church　outwardly；　from　policy；　he　believed　neither　in　God　nor　the
devil；　expecting　neither　chastisement　nor　recompense　for　his　acts　in
another　life。　　His　sole　belief　was　a　vague　philosophy　drawn　from　all　the
ideas　of　the　encyclopedists　of　the　last　century；　and　he　regarded　religion
as　a　moral　sanction　of　the　law；　the　one　and　the　other　having　been
invented　by　men　to　regulate　social　relations。　　To　kill　any　one　in　a　duel；
or　in　war；　or　in　a　quarrel；　or　by　accident；　or　for　the　sake　of　revenge；
or　even　through　bravado　would　have　seemed　to　him　an　amusing　and　clever
thing　and　would　not　have　left　more　impression　on　his　mind　than　a　shot
fired　at　a　hare；　but　he　had　experienced　a　profound　emotion　at　the　murder
of　this　child。　　He　had；　in　the　first　place；　perpetrated　it　in　the　heat　of
an　irresistible　gust　of　passion；　in　a　sort　of　tempest　of　the　senses　that
had　overpowered　his　reason。　　And　he　had　cherished　in　his　heart；　in　his
flesh；　on　his　lips；　even　to　the　very　tips　of　his　murderous　fingers　a　kind
of　bestial　love；　as　well　as　a　feeling　of　t