117
him had made him quite forget me. I therefore hated him. For a moment I felt that I should like to be a wild beast—to drive my nails into his flesh, to torture him like a cat does a mouse, and to tear him into pieces.
"What right had he to love anybody but myself? Did I love a single being in this world as I loved him? Could I feel pleasure with anyone else?
"No, my love was not a maudlin sentimentality, it was the maddening passion that overpowers the body and shatters the brain!
"If he could love women, why did he then make love to me, obliging me to love him, making me a contemptible being in my own eyes?
"In the paroxysm of my excitement I writhed, I bit my lips till they bled. I dug my nails into my flesh; I cried out with jealousy and shame. It wanted but little to have made me jump out of the cab, and go and ring at the door of his house.
"This state of things lasted for a few moments, and then I began to wonder what he was doing, and the fit of hallucination came
