The Making of a Saint

by W. Somerset Maugham

'He would have looked like a wild man of the woods,' I said. 'I should have had to allow myself to be massacred for the good of society. I should have been one more of the martyrs of humanity—Saint Philip Brandolini!'

I offered her my arm, suggesting a saunter through the gardens.... We wandered along cool paths bordered with myrtle and laurel and cypress trees; the air was filled with the song of birds, and a gentle breeze bore to us the scent of the spring flowers. By-and-by we came to a little lawn shut in by tall shrubs; in the middle a fountain was playing, and under the shadow of a chestnut-tree was a marble seat supported by griffins; in one corner stood a statue of Venus framed in green bushes. We had left the throng of guests far behind, and the place was very still; the birds, as if oppressed with its beauty, had ceased to sing, and only the fountain broke the silence. The unceasing fall of water was like a lullaby in its monotony, and the air was scented with lilac.

We sat down. The quiet was delightful; peace and beauty filled one, and I felt a great sense of happiness pass into me, like some subtle liquid permeating every corner of my soul. The smell of the lilac was beginning to intoxicate me; and from my happiness issued a sentiment of love towards all nature; I felt as though I could stretch out my arms and embrace its impalpable spirit. The Venus in the corner gained flesh-like tints of green and yellow, and seemed to be melting into life; the lilac came across to me in great waves, oppressive, over-powering.

I looked at Claudia. I thought she was affected as myself; she, too, was overwhelmed by the murmur of the water, the warmth, the scented air. And I was struck again with the wonderful voluptuousness of her beauty; her mouth sensual and moist, the lips deep red and heavy. Her neck was wonderfully massive, so white that the veins showed clear and blue; her clinging dress revealed the fulness of her form, its undulating curves. She seemed some goddess of Sensuality. As I looked at her I was filled with a sudden blind desire to possess her. I stretched out my arms, and she, with a cry of passion, like an animal, surrendered herself to my embrace. I drew her to me and kissed her beautiful mouth sensual and moist, her lips deep red and heavy....

We sat side by side looking at the fountain, breathing in the scented air.

'When can I see you?' I whispered.

'To-morrow.... After midnight. Come into the little street behind my house, and a door will be opened to you.'

'Claudia!'

'Good-bye. You must not come back with me now, we have been away so long, people would notice us. Wait here a while after me, and then there will be no fear. Good-bye.'

She left me, and I stretched myself on the marble seat, looking at the little rings which the drops made as they fell on the water. My love for Giulia was indeed finished now—dead, buried, and a stone Venus erected over it as only sign of its existence. I tried to think of a suitable inscription.... Time could kill the most obstinate love, and a beautiful woman, with the breezes of spring to help her, could carry away even the remembrance. I felt that my life was now complete. I had all pleasures imaginable at my beck and call: good wines to drink, good foods to eat, nice clothes; games, sports and pastimes; and, last of all, the greatest gift the gods can make, a beautiful woman to my youth and strength. I had arrived at the summit of wisdom, the point aimed at by the wise man, to take the day as it comes, seizing the pleasures, avoiding the disagreeable, enjoying the present, and giving no thought to the past or future. That, I said to myself, is the highest wisdom—never to think; for the way of happiness is to live in one's senses as the beasts, and like the ox, chewing the cud, use the mind only to consider one's superiority to the rest of mankind.