The Confession of a Child of the Century

by Alfred de Musset

The man I had surprised with my mistress was one of my most intimate friends. I went to his house the next day in company with a young lawyer named Desgenais; we took pistols, another witness, and repaired to the woods of Vincennes. On the way I avoided speaking to my adversary or even approaching him; thus I resisted the temptation to insult or strike him, a useless form of violence at a time when the law recognized the code. But I could not remove my eyes from him. He was the companion of my childhood and we had lived in the closest intimacy for many years. He understood perfectly my love for my mistress and had several times intimated that bonds of this kind were sacred to a friend, and that he would be incapable of an attempt to supplant me even if he loved the same woman. In short, I had perfect confidence in him and I had perhaps never pressed the hand of any human creature more cordially than his.

My glance was eager and curious as I scrutinized this man whom I had heard speak of love as an antique hero and whom I had caught caressing my mistress. It was the first time in my life I had seen a monster; I measured him with a haggard eye to see how he was made. He whom I had known since he was ten years old, with whom I had lived in the most perfect friendship, it seemed to me I had never seen him. Allow me a comparison.

There is a Spanish play, familiar to all the world, in which a stone statue comes to sup with a debauchee, sent thither by divine justice. The debauchee puts a good face on the matter and forces himself to affect indifference; but the statue asks for his hand, and when he has extended it he feels himself seized by a mortal chill and falls in convulsions.

Whenever I have loved and confided in any one, either friend or mistress, and suddenly discover that I have been deceived, I can only describe the effect produced on me by comparing it to the clasp of that marble hand. It is the actual impression of marble, it is as though a man of stone had kissed me. Alas! this horrible apparition has knocked more than once at my door; more than once we have supped together.

When the arrangements were all made we placed ourselves in line, facing each other and slowly advancing. My adversary fired the first shot, wounding me in the right arm. I immediately seized my pistol in the other hand; but my strength failed, I could not raise it; I fell on one knee.

Then I saw my enemy running up to me with an expression of great anxiety on his face, and very pale. My seconds hastened to my side, seeing that I was wounded; but he pushed them aside and seized my wounded arm. His teeth were set and I could see that he was suffering intense anguish. His agony was the most frightful that man can experience.

"Go!" he cried, "go dress your wound at the house of—"

He choked, and so did I.

I was placed in a cab where I found a physician. My wound was not dangerous, the bone being untouched, but I was in such a state of excitation that it was impossible to properly dress my wound. As they were about to drive from the field I saw a trembling hand at the door of my cab; it was my adversary. I shook my head in reply; I was in such a rage that I could not pardon him, although I felt that his repentance was sincere.

By the time I reached home I had lost much blood and felt relieved, for feebleness saved me from the force of anger which was doing me more harm than my wound. I willingly retired to my bed and called for a glass of water, which I quickly swallowed with relish.