do not know how this is come to pass. How wicked I am! The demons have
taken possession of me. Lord, come to my help, for with my own strength
alone I cannot vanquish myself. A terrible impulse urges me to leave
this house. I wish to escape, to fly from it. If he does not take me, I
will drag myself after him through the streets. What divine joy is this
that mingles in my breast with so cruel a grief? Lord God, my father,
illumine me. I desire only to love. I was not born for this hatred that
is consuming me. I was not born to deceive, to lie, to cheat. To-morrow
I will go out into the streets and cry aloud to all the passers-by: 'I
love! I hate!' My heart will relieve itself in this way. What happiness
it would be to be able to reconcile every thing, to love and respect
every one! May the Most Holy Virgin protect me. Again that terrible
idea! I don't wish to think it, and I think it. Ah! I cannot deceive
myself in regard to this. I can neither destroy it nor diminish it--but
I can confess it; and I confess it, saying to thee: 'Lord, I hate my
mother!'"

At last she fell into a doze. In her uneasy sleep her imagination
reproduced in her mind all she had done that night, distorting it,
without altering it in substance. She heard again the clock of the
cathedral striking nine; she saw with joy the old servant fall into a
peaceful sleep; and she left the room very slowly, in order to make no
noise; she descended the stairs softly, step by step and on tiptoe, in
order to avoid making the slightest sound. She went into the garden,
going around through the servants' quarters and the kitchen; in the
garden she paused for a moment to look up at the sky, which was dark
and studded with stars. The wind was hushed. Not a breath disturbed
the profound stillness of the night. It seemed to maintain a fixed and
silent attention--the attention of eyes that look without winking and
ears that listen attentively, awaiting a great event. The night was