that I should like to strike you, to disfigure you, to strangle
you. Are you certain that it will never come to that? You are
driving me to frenzy. Am I afraid of a scandal, or of your
anger? Why should I fear your anger? I love without hope, and
know that hereafter I shall love you a thousand times more. If
ever I should kill you I should have to kill myself too. But I
shall put off doing so as long as possible, for I wish to
continue enjoying the unbearable pain which your coldness gives
me. Do you know a very strange thing? It is that, with every
day, my love for you increases--though that would seem to be
almost an impossibility. Why should I not become a fatalist?
Remember how, on the third day that we ascended the
Shlangenberg, I was moved to whisper in your ear: 'Say but the
word, and I will leap into the abyss.' Had you said it, I should
have leapt. Do you not believe me?"
"What stupid rubbish!" she cried.
"I care not whether it be wise or stupid," I cried in return.
"I only know that in your presence I must speak, speak, speak.
Therefore, I am speaking. I lose all conceit when I am with you,
and everything ceases to matter."
"Why should I have wanted you to leap from the Shlangenberg?"
she said drily, and (I think) with wilful offensiveness. "THAT
would have been of no use to me."
"Splendid!" I shouted. "I know well that you must have used
the words 'of no use' in order to crush me. I can see through
you. 'Of no use,' did you say? Why, to give pleasure is ALWAYS
of use; and, as for barbarous, unlimited power--even if it be only
over a fly--why, it is a kind of luxury. Man is a despot by
nature, and loves to torture. You, in particular, love to do so."
I remember that at this moment she looked at me in a peculiar
way. The fact is that my face must have been expressing all the
maze of senseless, gross sensations which were seething within
me. To this day I can remember, word for word, the conversation
as I have written it down. My eyes were suffused with blood, and
the foam had caked itself on my lips. Also, on my honour I swear
that, had she bidden me cast myself from the summit of the
Shlangenberg, I should have done it. Yes, had she bidden me in
jest, or only in contempt and with a spit in my face, I should
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