Justine. Маркиз де Сад
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to fire the incense nothing is neglected by him who cries aloud his demand for it; kisses, fingerings, pollutions, debauchery’s most appalling refinements, everything is employed to revive sinking strength, and it all succeeds in reanimating them five times in swift succession; but that without either of them changing his role. The young lord was constantly the woman and although there was about him what suggested the possibility he could have acted the man in his turn, he had not for one instant even the appearance of wishing to. If he visited the altar corresponding to the one in him where sacrifices were performed, it was in the other idol’s behalf, and there was never any indication the latter was threatened by assault.
11
Ah, how slowly the time seemed to pass! I dared not budge for fear of detection; at last, the criminal actors in this indecent drama, no doubt surfeited, got up and were prepared to start along the road that was to take them home, when the master drew near the bush which hid me; my bonnet betrayed me... he caught sight of it . . . .
“Jasmin,” said he to his valet, “we are discovered... a girl has beheld our mysteries . . . . Come hither, flush the bitch into the open, let’s find out why she is here.”
I did not put them to the trouble of dragging me from my sanctuary; I stepped forward immediately and, falling at their feet,
“Oh, Messieurs!” I cried, stretching my arms toward them, “deign to have pity upon an unhappy creature whose fate more deserves your compassion than you may think; there are very few misfortunes which can equal mine; do not let the posture wherein you discover me cause any suspicion to be born in you; it is rather the consequence of my misery than of my faults; do not augment the ills which overwhelm me, be so kind as to diminish them by making available to me the means to escape the furies that hound me.”
The Comte de Bressac (that was the name of the young man into whose hands I had fallen) possessed a mind containing a great fund of wickedness and libertinage; no very abundant amount of sympathy dwelled in his heart. Unfortunately, it is only too common to find men in whom pity has been obliterated by libertinage, whose ordinary effect is to harden: whether it be that the major part of his excesses necessitates apathy in the soul, or that the violent shock passion imparts to the nervous system decreases the vigor of its action, the fact always remains that a libertine is rarety a man of sensibility. But in addition to this harshness native to the species whose character I am sketching, there was also in Monsieur de Bressac a disgust for our sex so inveterate, a hatred so powerful for all that distinguishes it, that I encountered considerable difficulty introducing the affections into his soul wherewith I strove to move him.
“My little dove,” said the Count, severity in his tone, “if you are looking for dupes, improve your style; neither my friend nor I ever sacrifice at your sex’s impure temple; if it is money you are begging, look for people who are fond of good works, we never perform any of that description . . . . But, wretch, out with it: did you see what passed between Monsieur and me?”
“I saw you conversing together upon the sward,” I replied, “nothing more, Monsieur, I assure you.”
“I should like to believe it,” said the Count, “for your own good; were I to imagine you had seen anything else, never would you emerge alive from where we are . . . . Jasmin, it is early, we have time to hear the girl’s adventures, and afterward we will see what’s to be done with her.”
The young men sit down, they order me to sit near them, and thereupon very ingenuously I make them acquainted with all the woes that have afflicted me from the day of my birth.
“Well, Jasmin,” said Monsieur de Bressac as soon as I had finished, “for once let us be just: the equitable Themis has doomed this creature, let us not suffer the Goddess’ designs to be thwarted so cruelly: let us expose the delinquent to the death penalty she has incurred: this little murder, far from being a crime, will merely take its place as a reparation in the moral scheme; since sometimes we have the misfortune to disturb that order, let us at least courageously make amends when the occasion arises . . . .”
And the cruel men, having laid hands upon me, dragged me toward the wood, laughing at my tears and screams.
“We’ll tie each of her members to a tree we need four trees placed in a rectangle,” said Bressac, tearing off my clothes.
Then by means of their cravats, their handkerchiefs, their braces, they make cords wherewith I am tied instantly, in keeping with their plan, that is to say in the cruelest and most painful position imaginable. I cannot express to you what I suffered; it seemed they were rending me limb from limb and that my belly, facing downward and strained to the utmost, was about to split at any moment; sweat drenched my forehead, I no longer existed save through the violence of pain; had it ceased to compress my nerves, a mortal anguish would surely have seized me: the villains were amused by my posture, they considered me and applauded.
“Well, that’s enough,” Bressac said at last, “for the time being she may get off with a fright.
“Therese,” he continued as he untied my hands and commanded me to dress myself, “show a little judgment and come along with us; if you attach yourself to me you shall never have reason to regret it. My aunt requires a second maid; I am going to present you to her and, upon the basis of your story, undertake to interest her in you; I shall make myself answerable for your conduct; but should you abuse my kindness, were you to betray my confidence, or were you not to submit yourself to my intentions, behold these four trees, Therese, behold the plot of earth they encompass: it might serve you for a sepulcher: bear it in mind that this dreadful place is no more than a league’s distance from the chateau to which I am going to lead you and that, upon the least provocation, I will bring you back here at once.”
I forgot my sufferings instantly, I embraced the Count’s knees, tears streaming down my cheeks, I swore to behave myself well; but quite as insensible to my joy as to my pain,
“Let us be off,” said Bressac, “your actions will speak for you, they alone will govern your fate.”
We advance; Jasmin and his master exchange whispered remarks; I follow them humbly, without saying a word. In less than an hour we arrive at Madame la Marquise de Bressac’s chateau, whose magnificence and the multitude of servants it contains make me see that whatever the post I must hold in the house, it will surely be more advantageous to me than that of drudge to Monsieur du Harpin. I am made to wait in an office where Jasmin most obligingly offers me everything conducive to my comfort. The young Count seeks out his aunt, acquaints her with what he has done, and a half-hour later himself comes to introduce me to the Marquise.
Madame de Bressac was a woman of forty-six years, still very beautiful, and who seemed highly respectable and sensible, although into her principles and remarks somewhat of austerity had entrance; for two years she had been the widow of the young Count’s uncle, who had married her without any fortune beyond the fine name he brought with him. All the riches Monsieur de Bressac was able to hope for depended upon this aunt; what had come down to him from his father barely gave him the wherewithal to buy his pleasures: to which income Madame de Bressac joined a considerable allowance, but that scarcely sufficed; nothing is so expensive as the delights to which the Count was addicted; perhaps they are purchased at a cheaper rate than others, but they far more rapidly multiply. Fifty thousand crowns was the Marquise’s revenue, and young Monsieur de Bressac was its sole heir. All efforts to induce him to find a profession or an occupation had failed; he could not adapt himself to whatever diverted his attentions from libertinage. The Marquise passed three months of the year’s twelve in the country; the rest of the time she lived in Paris; and these three months which she required her nephew to spend with her, were a kind of torture for a man who hated his aunt and considered as wasted every moment he passed outside the city which was the home of his pleasures.
The young Count bade me relate to the Marquise the matter with which I had just made him acquainted, and as soon as I was done:
“Your candor and naivete,” Madame de Bressac said to me, “do not permit me to think you untruthful. I will inquire after no other information save what will authorise me to believe you are really the daughter of the man you indicate; if it is so, then I knew your