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<h2> CHAPTER XVIII. </h2>
<p>"So we lived in the city. In the city the wretched feel less sad. One can
live there a hundred years without being noticed, and be dead a long time
before anybody will notice it. People have no time to inquire into your
life. All are absorbed. Business, social relations, art, the health of
children, their education. And there are visits that must be received and
made; it is necessary to see this one, it is necessary to hear that one or
the other one. In the city there are always one, two, or three celebrities
that it is indispensable that one should visit.</p>
<p>"Now one must care for himself, or care for such or such a little one, now
it is the professor, the private tutor, the governesses, . . . and life is
absolutely empty. In this activity we were less conscious of the
sufferings of our cohabitation. Moreover, in the first of it, we had a
superb occupation,—the arrangement of the new dwelling, and then,
too, the moving from the city to the country, and from the country to the
city.</p>
<p>"Thus we spent a winter. The following winter an incident happened to us
which passed unnoticed, but which was the fundamental cause of all that
happened later. My wife was suffering, and the rascals (the doctors) would
not permit her to conceive a child, and taught her how to avoid it. I was
profoundly disgusted. I struggled vainly against it, but she insisted
frivolously and obstinately, and I surrendered. The last justification of
our life as wretches was thereby suppressed, and life became baser than
ever.</p>
<p>"The peasant and the workingman need children, and hence their conjugal
relations have a justification. But we, when we have a few children, have
no need of any more. They make a superfluous confusion of expenses and
joint heirs, and are an embarrassment. Consequently we have no excuses for
our existence as wretches, but we are so deeply degraded that we do not
see the necessity of a justification. The majority of people in
contemporary society give themselves up to this debauchery without the
slightest remorse. We have no conscience left, except, so to speak, the
conscience of public opinion and of the criminal code. But in this matter
neither of these consciences is struck. There is not a being in society
who blushes at it. Each one practices it,—X, Y, Z, etc. What is the
use of multiplying beggars, and depriving ourselves of the joys of social
life? There is no necessity of having conscience before the criminal code,
or of fearing it: low girls, soldiers' wives who throw their children into
ponds or wells, these certainly must be put in prison. But with us the
suppression is effected opportunely and properly.</p>
<p>"Thus we passed two years more. The method prescribed by the rascals had
evidently succeeded. My wife had grown stouter and handsomer. It was the
beauty of the end of summer. She felt it, and paid much attention to her
person. She had acquired that provoking beauty that stirs men. She was in
all the brilliancy of the wife of thirty years, who conceives no children,
eats heartily, and is excited. The very sight of her was enough to
frighten one. She was like a spirited carriage-horse that has long been
idle, and suddenly finds itself without a bridle. As for my wife, she had
no bridle, as for that matter, ninety-nine hundredths of our women have
none."</p>
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