thought of a crime revives my spirits, of
violence and murder, either
or both, I am really
incapable of carrying out the design. The
countess is an
admirablemonster who would crave for
pardon, and not
every man is an Othello.'
" 'She is like every woman who is beyond our reach,' Rastignac
interrupted.
" 'I am mad,' I cried; 'I can feel the
madness raging at times in my
brain. My ideas are like shadows; they flit before me, and I cannot
grasp them. Death would be preferable to this life, and I have
carefully considered the best way of putting an end to the struggle. I
am not thinking of the living Foedora in the Faubourg Saint Honore,
but of my Foedora here,' and I tapped my
forehead. 'What to you say to
opium?'
" 'Pshaw!
horrid agonies,' said Rastignac.
" 'Or
charcoal fumes?'
" 'A low dodge.'
" 'Or the Seine?'
" 'The drag-nets, and the Morgue too, are filthy.'
" 'A pistol-shot?'
" 'And if you miscalculate, you
disfigure yourself for life. Listen to
me,' he went on, 'like all young men, I have pondered over
suicide.
Which of us hasn't killed himself two or three times before he is
thirty? I find there is no better course than to use
existence as a
means of pleasure. Go in for
thorough dissipation, and your
passion or
you will
perish in it. Intemperance, my dear fellow, commands all
forms of death. Does she not wield the
thunderbolt of apoplexy?
Apoplexy is a pistol-shot that does not miscalculate. Orgies are
lavish in all
physical pleasures; is not that the small change for
opium? And the riot that makes us drink to
excess bears a
challenge to
mortal
combat with wine. That butt of Malmsey of the Duke of
Clarence's must have had a pleasanter
flavor than Seine mud. When we
sink
gloriously under the table, is not that a
periodical death by
drowning on a small scale? If we are picked up by the police and
stretched out on those
chilly benches of
theirs at the police-station,
do we not enjoy all the pleasures of the Morgue? For though we are not
blue and green, muddy and
swollen corpses, on the other hand we have
the
consciousness of the climax.
" 'Ah,' he went on, 'this protracted
suicide has nothing in common
with the
bankrupt grocer's demise. Tradespeople have brought the river
into disrepute; they fling themselves in to
soften their creditors'
hearts. In your place I should endeavor to die
gracefully; and if you
wish to
invent a novel way of doing it, by struggling with life after
this manner, I will be your second. I am disappointed and sick of
everything. The Alsacienne, whom it was proposed that I should marry,
had six toes on her left foot; I cannot possibly live with a woman who
has six toes! It would get about to a
certainty, and then I should be
ridiculous. Her
income was only eighteen thousand francs; her fortune
diminished in quantity as her toes increased. The devil take it; if we
begin an
outrageous sort of life, we may come on some bit of luck,
perhaps!'
"Rastignac's
eloquence carried me away. The attractions of the plan
shone too
temptingly, hopes were kindled, the
poetical aspects of the
matter appealed to a poet.
" 'How about money?' I said.
" 'Haven't you four hundred and fifty francs?'
" 'Yes, but debts to my
landlady and the
tailor----'
" 'You would pay your
tailor? You will never be anything
whatever, not
so much as a
minister.'
" 'But what can one do with twenty louis?'
" 'Go to the gaming-table.'
"I shuddered.
" 'You are going to
launch out into what I call systematic
dissipation,' said he, noticing my scruples, 'and yet you are afraid
of a green table-cloth.'
" 'Listen to me,' I answered. 'I promised my father never to set foot
in a gaming-house. Not only is that a
sacred promise, but I still feel
an unconquerable
disgustwhenever I pass a gambling-hell; take the