"Listen," said that charming girl, speaking with all the candor¹ proper to her age, and all the naivete of her amiable² character; "listen to me, Therese, I am going to tell you everything, for I see you are a well brought up girl... incapable³ of betraying the secret I am going to confide⁴ to you.

 

"Certainly, dear friend, my father could make ends meet without pursuing either of these two occupations; and if he pursues both at once, it is because of the two motives⁵ I am going to reveal to you. He practices medicine because he has a liking⁶ for it; he takes keen pleasure in using his skill to make new discoveries, he has made so many of them, he has written so many authoritative⁷ texts based upon his investigations⁸ that he is generally acknowledged the most accomplished⁹ man in France at the present time; he worked for twenty years in Paris, and for the sake of his amusements he retired¹⁰ to the country. The real surgeon at Saint-Marcel is someone named Rombeau whom he has taken under his tutelage and with whom he collaborates¹¹ upon experiments; and now, Therese, would you know why he runs a school?... Libertinage¹², my child, libertinage alone, a passion he carries to its extremes. My father finds in his pupils of either sex objects whose dependence¹³ submits them to his inclinations¹⁴, and he exploits them.... But wait a moment ... come with me," said Rosalie, "today is Friday, one of the three days during the week when he corrects those who have misbehaved; it is in this kind of punishment my father takes his pleasure; follow me, I tell you, you shall see how he behaves. Everything is visible from a closet in my room which adjoins the one where he concludes his business; let's go there without making any noise, and above all be careful not to say a word both about what I am telling you and about what you are going to witness."

 

It was a matter of such great importance to familiarize myself with the customs of this person who had offered me asylum¹⁵, that I felt I could neglect nothing which might discover them to me; I follow hard upon Rosalie's heels, she situates me near a partition, through cracks between its ill-joined boards one can view everything going on in the neighboring room.

 

Hardly have we taken up our post when Rodin enters, leading a fourteen-year-old girl, blond and as pretty as Love; the poor creature is sobbing¹⁶ away, all too unhappily aware of what awaits her; she comes in with moans and cries; she throws herself down before her implacable instructor¹⁷, she entreats¹⁸ him to spare her, but his very inexorability fires the first sparks of the unbending Rodin's pleasure, his heart is already aglow¹⁹, and his savage²⁰ glances spring alive with an inner light....

 

"Why, no, no," he cries, "not for one minute, this happens far too frequently, Julie, I repent²¹ my forbearance and leniency²², their sole result has been repeated misconduct on your part, but could the gravity of this most recent example of it possibly allow me to show clemency²³, even supposing I wished to? A note passed to a boy upon entering the classroom!"

 

"Sir, I protest to you, I did not -"

 

"Ah I but I saw it, my dear, I saw it."

 

"Don't believe a word of it," Rosalie whispered to me, "these are trifles he invents by way of pretext²⁵; that little creature is an angel, it is because she resists him he treats her harshly."

 

Meanwhile, Rodin, greatly aroused, had seized the little girl's hands, tied them to a ring fitted high upon a pillar standing²⁶ in the middle of the punishment room. Julie is without any defense²⁷... any save the lovely face languishingly²⁸ turned toward her executioner, her superb hair in disarray²⁹, and the tears which inundate³⁰ the most beautiful face in the world, the sweetest... the most interesting. Rodin dwells upon the picture, is fired by it, he covers those supplicating³¹ eyes with a blindfold³², approaches his mouth and dares kiss them, Julie sees nothing more, now able to proceed as he wishes, Rodin removes the veils of modesty³³, her blouse is unbuttoned, her stays untied³⁴, she is naked to the waist and yet further below.... What whiteness! What beauty! These are roses strewn upon lilies by the Graces' very hands... what being is so heartless, so cruel as to condemn³⁵ to torture charms so fresh... so poignant³⁶? What is the monster that can seek pleasure in the depths of tears and suffering and woe³⁷? Rodin contemplates³⁸... his inflamed³⁹ eye roves, his hands dare profane⁴⁰ the flowers his cruelties are about to wither⁴¹; all takes place directly before us, not a detail can escape us: now the libertine⁴² opens and peers into, now he closes up again those dainty features which enchant⁴³ him; he offers them to us under every form, but he confines himself to these only: although the true temple of Love is within his reach, Rodin, faithful to his creed⁴⁴, casts not so much as a glance in that direction, to judge by his behavior, he fears even the sight of it; if the child's posture⁴⁵ exposes those charms, he covers them over again; the slightest disturbance⁴⁶ might upset his homage⁴⁷, he would have nothing distract him... finally, his mounting wrath⁴⁸ exceeds all limits, at first he gives vent²⁴ to it through invectives, with menaces and evil language he affrights this poor little wretch⁴⁹ trembling before the blows wherewith she realizes she is about to be torn; Rodin is beside himself, he snatches up a cat-o'-nine-tails that has been soaking in a vat⁵⁰ of vinegar to give the thongs⁵¹ tartness⁵² and sting. "Well there," says he, approaching his victim, "prepare yourself, you have got to suffer"; he swings a vigorous arm, the lashes⁵³ are brought whistling down upon every inch of the body exposed to them; twenty-five strokes are applied⁵⁴; the tender pink rosiness⁵⁵ of this matchless skin is in a trice run into scarlet⁵⁶.#p#分页标题#e#

 

Julie emits cries... piercing screams which rend⁵⁷ me to the soul; tears run down from beneath her blindfold and like pearls shine upon her beautiful cheeks; whereby Rodin is made all the more furious.... He puts his hands upon the molested⁵⁸ parts, touches, squeezes, worries them, seems to be readying them for further assaults; they follow fast upon the first, Rodin begins again, not a cut he bestows⁵⁹ is unaccompanied by a curse, a menace, a reproach... blood appears... Rodin is in an ecstasy⁶⁰; his delight is immense as he muses⁶¹ upon the eloquent⁶² proofs of his ferocity. He can contain himself no longer, the most indecent condition manifests his overwrought state; he fears not to bring everything out of hiding, Julie cannot see it... he moves to the breech and hovers⁶³ there, he would greatly like to mount as a victor, he dares not, instead, he begins to tyrannize anew; Rodin whips with might and main and finally manages, thanks to the leathern stripes, to open this asylum of the Graces and of joy.... He no longer knows who he is or where; his delirium⁶⁴ has attained⁶⁵ to such a pitch the use of reason is no longer available to him; he swears, he blasphemes, he storms, nothing is exempt⁶⁶ from his savage blows, all he can reach is treated with identical fury, but the villain⁶⁷ pauses nevertheless, he senses the impossibility of going further without risking the loss of the powers which he must preserve for new operations.

 

"Dress yourself," he says to Julie, loosening her bonds and readjusting his own costume, "and if you are once again guilty of similar misconduct, bear it firmly in mind you will not get off quite so lightly."

 

Julie returns to her class, Rodin goes into the boys' and immediately brings back a young scholar of fifteen, lovely as the day; Rodin scolds him; doubtless more at his ease with the lad, he wheedles⁶⁸ and kisses while lecturing him.

 

"You deserve to be punished," he observes, "and you are going to be."

 

Having uttered these words, he oversteps the last bounds of modesty with the child; for in this case, everything is of interest to him, nothing is excluded, the veils are drawn⁶⁹ aside, everything is palpated indiscriminately; Rodin alternates threats, caresses⁷⁰, kisses, curses; his impious fingers attempt to generate voluptuous⁷¹ sentiments in the boy and, in his turn, Rodin demands identical ministrations.

 

"Very well," cries the satyr, spying his success, "there you are in the state I forbade.... I dare swear that with two more movements you'd have the impudence⁷² to spit at me...."

 

But too sure of the titillations he has produced, the libertine advances to gather a homage, and his mouth is the temple offered to the sweet incense⁷³; his hands excite it to jet forth⁷⁴, he meets the spurts⁷⁵, devours⁷⁶ them, and is himself ready to explode, but he wishes to persevere⁷⁷ to the end.

 

"Ah, I am going to make you pay for this stupidity!" says he and gets to his feet.

 

He takes the youth's two hands, he clutches them tight, and offers himself entirely⁷⁸ to the altar at which his fury would perform a sacrifice. He opens it, his kisses roam over it, his tongue drives deep into it, is lost in it. Drunk with love and ferocity, Rodin mingles⁷⁹ the expressions and sentiments of each....

 

"Ah, little weasel!" he cries, "I must avenge⁸⁰ myself upon the illusion you create in me."

 

The whips are picked up, Rodin flogs; clearly more excited by the boy than he was by the vestal, his blows become both much more powerful and far more numerous: the child bursts into tears, Rodin is in seventh heaven, but new pleasures call, he releases the boy and flies to other sacrifices. A little girl of thirteen is the boy's successor, and she is followed by another youth who is in turn abandoned for a girl; Rodin whips nine: five boys, four girls; the last is a lad of fourteen, endowed with a delicious countenance⁸¹: Rodin wishes to amuse himself, the pupil resists; out of his mind with lust⁸², he beats him, and the villain, losing all control of himself, hurls⁸³ his flame's scummy jets upon his young charge's injured parts, he wets him from waist to heels; enraged⁸⁴ at not having had strength enough to hold himself in check until the end, our corrector releases the child very testily⁸⁵, and after warning him against such tricks in the future, he sends him back to the class: such are the words I heard, those the scenes which I witnessed.

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