st, beautiful cherubim who soar
in the alcove and who bring to this world man awakened from the dream
divine! Ah! dear children of pleasure, how your mother loves you! It
is you, curious prattlers, who behold the first mysteries, touches,
trembling yet chaste, glances that are already insatiable, who begin
to trace on the heart, as a tentative sketch, the ineffaceable image of
cherished beauty! O royalty! O conquest! It is you who make lovers.
And thou, true diadem, serenity of happiness! The first true concept of
man's life, and first return of happiness in the many little things of
life which are seen only through the medium of joy, first steps made by
nature in the direction of the well-beloved! Who will paint you? What
human word will ever express thy slightest caress?

He who, in the freshness of youth, has taken leave of an adored
mistress; he who has walked through the streets without hearing the
voices of those who speak to him; he who has sat in a lonely spot,
laughing and weeping without knowing why; he who has placed his hands to
his face in order to breathe the perfume that still clings to them; he
who has suddenly forgotten what he had been doing on earth; he who has
spoken to the trees along the route and to the birds in their flight;
finally, he who, in the midst of men, has acted the madman, and then
has fallen on his knees and thanked God for it; let him die without
complaint: he has known the joy of love.

PART IV

CHAPTER I. THE THORNS OF LOVE

I have now to recount what happened to my love, and the change that took
place in me. What reason can I give for it? None, except as I repeat the
story and as I say: "It is the truth." For two days, neither more
nor less, I was Madame Pierson's lover. One fine night I set out and
traversed the road that led to her house. I was feeling so well in body
and soul that I leaped for joy and extended my arms to heaven. I found
her at the top of the stairway leaning on the railing, a lighted candle
beside her. She was waiting for me, and when she saw me ran to meet me.

She showed me how she had changed her coiffure which had displeased me,
and told me how she had passed the day arranging her hair to suit my
taste; how she had taken down a villainous black picture-frame that had
offended my eye; how she had renewed the flowers; she recounted all she
had done since she had known me, how she had seen me suffer and how she
had suffered herself; how she ha