Chapter 11

"All marry in this way. And I did like the rest. If the young people who
dream of the honeymoon only knew what a disillusion it is, and always a
disillusion! I really do not know why all think it necessary to conceal
it.

"One day I was walking among the shows in Paris, when, attracted by a
sign, I entered an establishment to see a bearded woman and a water-dog.
The woman was a man in disguise, and the dog was an ordinary dog,
covered with a sealskin, and swimming in a bath. It was not in the least
interesting, but the Barnum accompanied me to the exit very courteously,
and, in addressing the people who were coming in, made an appeal to my
testimony. 'Ask the gentleman if it is not worth seeing! Come in, come
in! It only costs a franc!' And in my confusion I did not dare to answer
that there was nothing curious to be seen, and it was upon my false
shame that the Barnum must have counted.

"It must be the same with the persons who have passed through the
abominations of the honeymoon. They do not dare to undeceive their
neighbor. And I did the same.

"The felicities of the honeymoon do not exist. On the contrary, it is a
period of uneasiness, of shame, of pity, and, above all, of ennui,--of
ferocious ennui. It is something like the feeling of a youth when he is
beginning to smoke. He desires to vomit; he drivels, and swallows his
drivel, pretending to enjoy this little amusement. The vice of marriage
. . ."

"What! Vice?" I said. "But you are talking of one of the most natural
things."

"Natural!" said he. "Natural! No, I consider on the contrary that it
is against nature, and it is I, a perverted man, who have reached this
conviction. What would it be, then, if I had not known corruption? To
a young girl, to every unperverted young girl, it is an act extremely
unnatural, just as it is to children. My sister married, when very
young, a man twice her own age, and who was utterly corrupt. I remember
how astonished we were the night of her wedding, when, pale and covered
with tears, she fled from her husband, her whole body trembling, saying
that for nothing in the world would she tell what he wanted of her.

"You say natural? It is natural to eat; that is a pleasant, agreeable
function, which no one is ashamed to perform from the time of his birth.
No, it is not natural. A pure young girl wants one thing,--children.
Children, yes, not a lover." . . .

"But," said I, with astonishment, "how would the human race continue?"

"But what is the use of its continuing?" he rejoined, vehemently.

"What! What is the use? But then we should not exist."

"And why is