Justine 淑女的眼泪 Chapter 35

"Those old clothes have become useless; you will have some cut to fit your size, they will be more becoming to you; be content to take along only what you are wearing."

 

I asked the monk¹ whether I might be allowed to accompany Omphale to the door of the house; his reply was a glance that made me recoil³ in terror.... Omphale goes out, she turns toward us eyes filled with uneasiness and tears, and the minute she is gone I fling myself down upon the bed, desperate.

 

Accustomed to these occurrences or blind to their significance, my companions were less affected⁴ by Omphale's departure than I; the superior returned an hour later to lead away the supper's girls of whom I was one we were only four: the girl of twelve, she of sixteen, she of twenty-three, and me. Everything went more or less as upon other days; I only noticed that the Girls of the Watch were not on hand, that the monks⁵ often whispered in each other's ears, that they drank much, that they limited themselves violently to exciting desires they did not once consummate⁶, and that they sent us away at an early hour without retaining any of us for their own beds.... I deduced what I could from what I observed, because, under such circumstances, one keeps a sharp eye upon everything, but what did this evidence augur⁷? Ah, such was my perplexity that no clear idea presented itself to my mind but it was not immediately offset⁸ by another; recollecting⁹ Clement¹⁰'s words, I felt there was everything to fear... of course; but then, hope... that treacherous¹¹ hope which comforts us, which blinds us, and which thus does us almost as much ill as good... hope finally surged up to reassure¹² me.... Such a quantity of horrors were so alien to me that I was simply unable to conceive of them. In this terrible state of confusion, I lay down in bed; now I was persuaded Omphale would not fail to keep her word; and the next instant I was convinced the cruel devices they would use against her would deprive her of all power to help us, and that was my final opinion when I saw an end come to the third day of having heard nothing at all.

 

Upon the fourth I found myself again called to supper; the company was numerous and select: the eight most beautiful women were there that evening, I had been paid the honor of being included amongst them; the Girls of the Watch attended too. Immediately we entered we caught sight of our new companion.

 

"Here is the young lady the corporation has destined¹⁴ to replace Omphale, Mesdemoiselles," said Severino.

 

And as the words escaped his lips he tore away the mantlets and lawn which covered the girl's bust¹⁵, and we beheld¹⁶ a maiden¹⁷ of fifteen, with the most agreeable and delicate face: she raised her lovely eyes and graciously regarded each of us; those eyes were still moist with tears, but they contained the liveliest expression; her figure was supple¹⁸ and light, her skin of a dazzling whiteness, she had the world's most beautiful hair, and there was something so seductive about the whole that it was impossible not to feel oneself automatically drawn¹⁹ to her. Her name was Octavie; we were soon informed she was a girl of the highest quality, born in Paris, and had just emerged from a convent in order to wed² the Comte de * * *: she had been kidnaped while en route in the company of two governesses and three lackeys²⁰; she did not know what had become of her retinue²¹; it had been toward nightfall and she alone had been taken; after having been blindfolded²², she had been brought to where we were and it had not been possible to know more of the matter.

 

As yet no one had spoken a word to her. Our libertine²³ quartet, confronted by so much charm, knew an instant of ecstasy²⁴; they had only the strength to admire her. Beauty's dominion²⁵ commands respect; despite his heartlessness, the most corrupt²⁶ villain²⁷ must bow before it or else suffer the stings of an obscure remorse²⁸; but monsters of the breed with which we had to cope do not long languish²⁹ under such restraints.

 

"Come, pretty child," quoth the superior, impudently³⁰ drawing her toward the chair in which he was settled, "come hither and let's have a look to see whether the rest of your charms match those Nature has so profusely³¹ distributed in your countenance³²."

 

And as the lovely girl was sore troubled, as she flushed crimson³³ and strove to fend³⁴ him off, Severino grasped her rudely round the waist.

 

"Understand, my artless one," he said, "understand that what I want to tell you is simply this: get undressed. Strip. Instantly."

 

And thereupon the libertine slid one hand beneath her skirts while he grasped her with the other. Clement approached, he raised Octavie's clothes to above her waist and by this maneuver³⁵ exposed the softest, the most appetizing features it is possible anywhere to find; Severino touches, perceives nothing, bends to scrutinize³⁶ more narrowly, and all four agree they have never seen anything as beautiful. However, the modest Octavie, little accustomed to usage of this sort, gushes³⁷ tears, and struggles.

 

"Undress, undress," cries Antonin, "we can't see a thing this way."

 

He assists Severino and in a trice we have displayed to us all the maiden's unadorned charms. Never, without any doubt, was there a fairer skin, never were there more happily modeled forms.... God! the crime of it!... So many beauties, such chaste³⁸ freshness, so much innocence³⁹ and daintiness all to become prey⁴⁰ to these barbarians⁴¹! Covered with shame, Octavie knows not where to fly to hide her charms, she finds naught⁴² but hungering eyes everywhere about, nothing but brutal⁴³ hands which sully those treasures; the circle closes around her, and, as did I, she rushes hither and thither⁴⁴; the savage⁴⁵ Antonin lacks the strength to resist; a cruel attack determines the homage⁴⁶, and the incense⁴⁷ smokes at the goddess' feet. Jerome compares her to our young colleague of sixteen, doubtless the seraglio's prettiest; he places the two altars of his devotion one next to the other.

 

"Ha! what whiteness! what grace!" says he as he fingers Octavie, "but what gentility and freshness may be discerned in this other one: indeed," continues the monk all afire, "I am uncertain"; then imprinting⁴⁸ his mouth upon the charms his eyes behold⁴⁹, "Octavie," he cries, "to you the apple, it belongs to none but you, give me the precious fruit of this tree my heart adores.... Ah, yes! yes, one of you, give it me, and I will forever assure beauty's prize to who serves me sooner."

 

Severino observes the time has come to meditate⁵⁰ on more serious matters; absolutely in no condition to be kept waiting, he lays hands upon the unlucky child, places her as he desires her to be; not yet being able to have full confidence in Octavie's aid, he calls for Clement to lend him a hand. Octavie weeps and weeps unheeded; fire gleams in the impudicious monk's glance; master of the terrain⁵¹, one might say he casts about a roving eye only to consider the avenues whereby he may launch the fiercest assault; no ruses⁵², no preparations are employed; will he be able to gather these so charming roses? will he be able to battle past the thorns? Whatever the enormous disproportion between the conquest and the assailant, the latter is not the less in a sweat to give fight; a piercing cry announces victory, but nothing mollifies the enemy's chilly⁵³ heart; the more the captive implores⁵⁴ mercy, the less quarter is granted her, the more vigorously she is pressed; the ill-starred one fences in vain: she is soon transpierced.

 

"Never was laurel with greater difficulty won," says Severino, retreating, "I thought indeed that for the first time in my life I would fall before the gate... ah! 'twas never so narrow, that way, nor so hot; 'tis the God's own Ganymede."

 

"I had better bring her round to the sex you have just soiled," cries Antonin, seizing Octavie where she is, and not wishing to let her stand up; "there's more than one breach⁵⁵ to a rampart," says he, and proudly, boldly marching up, he carries the day and is within the sanctuary⁵⁶ in no time at all. Further screams are heard.

 

"Praise be to God," quoth the indecent man, "I thought I was alone; and would have doubted of my success without a groan⁵⁷ or two from the victim; but my triumph is sealed. Do you observe? Blood and tears."

 

"In truth," says Clement, who steps up with whip in hand, "I'll not disturb her sweet posture⁵⁸ either, it is too favorable to my desires." Jerome's Girl of the Watch and the twenty-year-old girl hold Octavie: Clement considers, fingers; terrified, the little girl beseeches⁵⁹ him, and is not listened to.

 

"Ah, my friends!" says the exalted⁶⁰ monk, "how are we to avoid flogging a schoolgirl who exhibits an ass¹³ of such splendor⁶¹ !"

 

The air immediately resounds⁶² to the whistle of lashes⁶³ and the thud of stripes sinking into lovely flesh; Octavie's screams mingle⁶⁴ with the sounds of leather, the monk's curses reply: what a scene for these libertines⁶⁵ surrendering themselves to a thousand obscenities in the midst of us all I They applaud him, they cheer him on; however, Octavie's skin changes color, the brightest tints⁶⁶ incarnadine join the lily sparkle; but what might perhaps divert Love for an instant, were moderation to have direction of the sacrifice, becomes, thanks to severity, a frightful⁶⁷ crime against Love's laws; nothing stops or slows the perfidious⁶⁸ monk, the more the young student complains, the more the professor's harshness explodes; from the back to the knee, everything is treated in the same way, and it is at last upon his barbaric pleasures' blood-drenched vestiges⁶⁹ the savage quenches⁷⁰ his flames.

 

"I shall be less impolite, I think," says Jerome, laying hands upon the lovely thing and adjusting himself between her coral lips; "where is the temple where I would sacrifice? Why, in this enchanting⁷¹ mouth...."

 

I fall silent.... 'Tis the impure⁷² reptile⁷³ withering⁷⁴ the rose my figure of speech relates it all.

 

The rest of the soiree would have resembled all the others had it not been for the beauty and the touching⁷⁵ age of this young maiden who more than usually inflamed⁷⁶ those villains⁷⁷ and caused them to multiply their infamies⁷⁸; it was satiety⁷⁹ rather than commiseration⁸⁰ that sent the unhappy child back to her room and gave her, for a few hours at least, the rest and quiet she needed.

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