bits which are hollow; my bones protrude from under the yellow skin; my mouth is pale, trembling, hanging like the mouths of lascivious old men. My gestures are erratic, and my fingers, constantly agitated by nervous shocks, crack, seeking a prey in the air.
Mad! Yes, I am mad! Whenever Mother Le Gannec is moving about me, when I hear her slippers dragging on the floor, when her dress brushes against me, criminal notions come and take possession of me; they pursue me and I cry:
"Go away, Mother Le Gannec, go away."
Mad! Yes, I am mad! Often at night I stand for hours at the door of her room, my hand upon the knob, ready to plunge into the darkness of the room. I don't know what is holding me back. Fear, no doubt, for I say to myself: "She will struggle, cry, call for help and I shall be compelled to kill her! "Once, alarmed by the noise, she got up, barelegged; she was dumb-founded for a moment, upon beholding me.
"What is the matter! It's you, friend Mintié? What are you doing here? Are you ill?"
I stammered some incoherent words and went upstairs to my room.
Ah! Let them drive me out, beat me, with forks, stakes, scythes. Is it possible that men will not come in here in a moment, rush upon me, gag and drag me into the eternal night of the dungeon?
I must go away! I must find Juliette again! I must vent this accursed madness upon her!
When dawn came I went downstairs and said to Mother Le Gannec: "I must leave! Let me have some money. I shall pay it back to you later. Let me have some money. I must leave!"
