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mysterious earth； the earth sown with human corpses？ I looked all
around me； but I cannot say how long I remained there； I was
paralyzed with terror； cold with fright； ready to shout out；
ready to die。
〃Suddenly； it seemed to me that the slab of marble on which I was
sitting； was moving。 Certainly it was moving； as if it were being
raised。 With a bound； I sprang on to the neighboring tomb； and I
saw； yes； I distinctly saw the stone which I had just quitted
rise upright。 Then the dead person appeared； a naked skeleton；
pushing the stone back with its bent back。 I saw it quite
clearly； although the night was so dark。 On the cross I could
read：
〃 'Here lies Jacques Olivant； who died at the age of fifty…one。
He loved his family； was kind and honorable； and died in the
grace of the Lord。'
〃The dead man also read what was inscribed on his tombstone； then
he picked up a stone off the path； a little； pointed stone and
began to scrape the letters carefully。 He slowly effaced them；
and with the hollows of his eyes he looked at the places where
they had been engraved。 Then with the tip of the bone that had
been his forefinger； he wrote in luminous letters； like those
lines which boys trace on walls with the tip of a lucifer match：
〃 'Here reposes Jacques Olivant； who died at the age of
fifty…one。 He hastened his father's death by his unkindness； as
he wished to inherit his fortune； he tortured his wife； tormented
his children； deceived his neighbors； robbed everyone he could；
and died wretched。'
〃When he had finished writing； the dead man stood motionless；
looking at his work。 On turning round I saw that all the graves
were open； that all the dead bodies had emerged from them； and
that all had effaced the lies inscribed on the gravestones by
their relations； substituting the truth instead。 And I saw that
all had been the tormentors of their neighborsmalicious；
dishonest； hypocrites； liars； rogues； calumniators； envious； that
they had stolen； deceived； performed every disgraceful； every
abominable action； these good fathers； these faithful wives；
these devoted sons； these chaste daughters； these honest
tradesmen； these men and women who were called irreproachable。
They were all writing at the same time； on the threshold of their
eternal abode； the truth； the terrible and the holy truth of
which everybody was ignorant； or pretended to be ignorant； while
they were alive。
〃I thought that SHE also must have written something on her
tombstone； and now running without any fear among the half…open
coffins； among the corpses and skeletons； I went toward her； sure
that I should find her immediately。 I recognized her at once；
without seeing her face； which was covered by the winding…sheet；
and on the marble cross； where shortly before I had read：
〃 'She loved； was loved； and died。'
I now saw：
〃 'Having gone out in the rain one day； in order to deceive her
lover； she caught cold and died。'
* * * * * * *
〃It appears that they found me at daybreak； lying on the grave
unconscious。〃
THE DIARY OF A MADMAN
He was deadthe head of a high tribunal； the upright magistrate；
whose irreproachable life was a proverb in all the courts of
France。 Advocates； young counselors； judges had saluted； bowing
low in token of profound respect； remembering that grand face；
pale and thin； illumined by two bright； deep…set eyes。
He had passed his life in pursuing crime and in protecting the
weak。 Swindlers and murderers had no more redoubtable enemy； for
he seemed to read in the recesses of their souls their most
secret thoughts。
He was dead； now； at the age of eighty…two； honored by the homage
and followed by the regrets of a whole people。 Soldiers in red
breeches had escorted him to the tomb； and men in white cravats
had shed on his grave tears that seemed to be real。
But listen to the strange paper found by the dismayed notary in
the desk where the judge had kept filed the records of great
criminals！ It was entitled：
WHY？
June 20； 1851。 I have just left court。 I have condemned Blondel
to death！ Now； why did this man kill his five children？
Frequently one meets with people to whom killing is a pleasure。
Yes； yes； it should be a pleasurethe greatest of all； perhaps；
for is not killing most like creating？ To make and to destroy！
These two words contain the history of the universe； the history
of all worlds； all that is； all！ Why is it not intoxicating to
kill？
June 25。 To think that there is a being who lives； who walks； who
runs。 A being？ What is a being？ An animated thing which bears in
it the principle of motion； and a will ruling that principle。 It
clings to nothing； this thing。 Its feet are independent of the
ground。 It is a grain of life that moves on the earth； and this
grain of life； coming I know not whence； one can destroy at one's
will。 Then nothing nothing more。 It perishes； it is finished。
June 26。 Why； then； is it a crime to kill？ Yes； why？ On the
contrary； it is the law of nature。 Every being has the mission to
kill； he kills to live； and he lives to kill。 The beast kills
without ceasing； all day； every instant of its existence。 Man
kills without ceasing； to nourish himself； but since in addition
he needs to kill for pleasure； he has invented the chase！ The
child kills the insects he finds； the little birds； all the
little animals that come in his way。 But this does not suffice
for the irresistible need of massacre that is in us。 It is not
enough to kill beasts； we must kill man too。 Long ago this need
was satisfied by human sacrifice。 Now； the necessity of living in
society has made murder a crime。 We condemn and punish the
assassin！ But as we cannot live without yielding to this natural
and imperious instinct of death； we relieve ourselves from time
to time； by wars。 Then a whole nation slaughters another nation。
It is a feast of blood； a feast that maddens armies and
intoxicates the civilians； women and children； who read； by
lamplight at night； the feverish story of massacre。
And do we despise those picked out to accomplish these butcheries
of men？ No； they are loaded with honors。 They are clad in gold
and in resplendent stuffs； they wear plumes on their heads and
ornaments on their breasts； and they are given crosses； rewards；
titles of every kind。 They are proud； respected； loved by women；
cheered by the crowd； solely because their mission is to shed
human blood！ They drag through the streets their instruments of
death； and the passer…by； clad in black； looks on with envy。 For
to kill is the great law put by nature in the heart of existence！
There is nothing more beautiful and honorable than killing！
June 30。 To kill is the law； because Nature loves eternal youth。
She seems to cry in all her unconscious acts： 〃Quick！ quick！
quick！〃 The more she destroys； the more she renews herself。
July 2。 It must be a pleasure； unique and full of zest； to kill
to place before you a living； thinking being； to make therein a
little hole； nothing but a little hole； and to see that red
liquid flow which is the blood； which is the life； and then to
have before you only a heap of