Juliette

by Marquis de Sade

  JULIETTE: How is it possible in that case that she consent to turn over her fortune before obtaining the promised poison?

  FERDINAND: I have wondered about that myself.

  CLAIRWIL: Sire, your wife is a rascal, but a very clumsy one; knowing that we were your intimates, she has thought to disguise her infamy by shifting the responsibility for her execrable scheme upon our shoulders, but it’s a flimsy and ill-contrived plot.

  FERDINAND: Who could have sent me that note?

  JULIETTE: Those who have your treasure, no doubt: but, be certain of it, they are already far away. That note’s senders would not have informed you had it meant jeopardizing their own safety, and it is to put you off the scent that the Queen names us.

  FERDINAND: But how is it to Charlotte’s interest to protect those who have just betrayed her?

  CLAIRWIL: She has the poison, she does not want you to know she has it; hence, she brings suspicion to bear upon two people who cannot affirm that they gave it to her. Nevertheless, she has it, and but for the steps you have taken, you were a doomed man.

  FERDINAND: In your opinion, then, I have done the right thing?

  JULIETTE: It would have been difficult to do any better.

  FERDINAND: Do you think she is the culprit? (Here Clairwil puts on a malicious smile.) Ah, I see it from your expression! Turn the knife in the wound: is there something else you know?

  CLAIRWIL: Only that your wife is a monster; she has acted out of hatred for you, and you would be very wise to see to it that she is punished to the fullest extent of the law.

  FERDINAND: Oh, speak out, my friends, have you really no knowledge of who has stolen my treasure?

  JULIETTE and CLAIRWIL: None, we swear it.

  FERDINAND: Then let her perish in her dungeon, let her die of hunger and despair there … and you, dear friends, forgive me for having formed suspicions in your regard. They were unjust; I ask you to pardon me.

  JULIETTE: Sire, those suspicions did however exist, and with your leave we must therefore take our immediate departure out of your realm.

  FERDINAND: Departure? No, I implore you, now that I am free of the encumbrance of that vicious wife … I feel infinitely more at ease, and there are marvelous things for us all to do together—

  JULIETTE: Your peace of mind, my Lord, does not establish ours. Comfort is irrevocably gone for decent women upon whose honor the merest aspersion has been once cast.

  FERDINAND: Ah, but I no longer suspect either one of you. (He falls upon his knees.) Never abandon me; I shall not be able to get on without you, I shall never console myself if I lose you too.

  CLAIRWIL: And what was the sum the thieves took from you?

  FERDINAND: Forty million, half of all I owned. The criminal admits that she promised the whole of my fortune, but she did not dare strip me of everything.

  “The infamous creature,” said I, but animated by feelings in which the King could not have followed me, those of rage at having been cheated by Charlotte, “the monster! what audacity! and what impudence! Thus to deceive the very best of husbands! A man who was so fond of her, who toiled selflessly in behalf of her pleasures! Oh, blackest ingratitude! For which the most fiendish punishment would be far too mild.”

  At that point Elise and Raimonde, decked out like goddesses, made their entrance, bearing chocolate for His Majesty. Until now Ferdinand had not clapped eyes on the two girls.

  “What beauties are these?” he asked, all atremble.

  “Our handmaidens,” I answered.

  “Why have they not been presented to me hitherto?”

  “Could we have supposed they might please you?”

  And with singular promptness forgetting both his prisoner and his robbery, the rake wants those two creatures surrendered to him on the spot. Such desires, in view of the circumstances, required speedy satisfaction. A boudoir opens before Ferdinand, into it he goes with our women and does not emerge until two hour later, after having worked the pair to exhaustion.

  “Most generous friends,” says he upon reappearing in our midst, “I beg you not to desert my city and me. Only let all reproaches be forgotten, and I protest to you that henceforth I shall behold you as paragons of innocence and probity.”

  And he left our house.

  Had the sovereign of Naples not been such a weak-spirited caitiff, Queen Charlotte would have been poisoned inside a day; we had given Ferdinand plentiful motives for the deed; but that unforceful and characterless man, was he capable of a vigorous action? No; and he took none at all. News of the Queen’s detention and of its brevity was to reach the whole of Europe, but the reasons for both her imprisonment and her release were to remain unexplained. As for ourselves, not caring to wait to learn the outcome of this adventure, we turned at once to organizing our retreat. Our loot proved voluminous and heavy. As we had bought a quantity of busts, mosaics, antique marbles, and samples of stone from Vesuvius, we cached our gold in false bottoms built into the packing cases ordered for shipping our purchases, and this stratagem succeeded to perfection. Before closing up the cases we sent a request to the King, asking him to inspect our baggage; he declined; we nailed everything shut. Ten wagons bore it all away, and we followed after in two coaches, one for our suite, one for ourselves. Just before leaving we went to say goodbye to Ferdinand, who again did all he possibly could to change our minds, and who then, having had to accept the inevitable, himself handed us the passports necessary to cross the borders of his states.

  That evening we lay over at Capua; a week later, at Rome, where we arrived without having encountered the least difficulty on the road. Not until then did Clairwil notify her brother of her design to accompany me on to Paris, where it was her intention to settle for the rest of her life. She besought him to come to Paris too; but Brisatesta could not take it upon himself to quit his profession, and despite the wealth he had already amassed from outlawry, he solemnly declared that his unalterable decision was to die pistol in hand.

  “So be it,” said Clairwil. “My preference goes to you, Juliette. We shall never separate again, that is my wish.”

  I hugged my friend in my arms and swore to her she would never have cause to repent her decision. Ah! Making that promise, how little was I aware of the destiny that had already been spelled out by our stars, Clairwil’s and mine.

  We continued our journey, which was uneventful until we reached Ancona. There, taking advantage of the fairest weather, we were strolling along the port when we perceived a tall woman of some forty-five years gazing at us fixedly.

  “Do you recognize that person?” Clairwil asked me.

  I turn, I scrutinize her. “Bless me, Clairwil! She is no other than our Parisian sorceress. It’s Durand.”

  Her name was yet on my lips when its owner came up and greeted us rapturously.

  “Ah,” said Clairwil, somewhat startled to see again the woman who five years before had predicted she had only that interval to live, “by what stroke of chance do we meet in this city?”

  “Come with me to my lodgings,” said Durand, still beautiful with the passing of time; “although these people do not understand our tongue, we have nothing to gain from conversing in their presence.”

  We accompany her; and after having ushered us into the luxurious quarters she occupied at the inn, “How pleased I am,” she told us as soon as we were seated, “to be able to procure you the acquaintance of a most outstanding woman, one of the most unusual and the most like yourselves Nature has yet created.”

  “To whom do you refer?” Clairwil asked.

  “To a sister of the Empress, an aunt of Naples’ Queen, a figure completely unknown to the world. As a very young child, Princess Christine evidenced propensities to libertinage of such violence that her father sensed she would become absolutely unmanageable. Seeing her bad habits grow steadily worse with age, he thought best to buy an island for her in Dalmatia, at the head of the Adriatic; he assigned her an income of three million a year, and put her under the protec
tion of the Venetians, who by treaty recognized her sovereignty over the island and her right to do there whatever she liked. Christine, relegated to her little kingdom sixteen years ago, is at present forty years of age, and leads a life of delicious indulgence in everything the extremest lubricity can inspire. But it will spoil the adventure if I tell you more about her;

  we shall cross the gulf in one of her barks, it is at my permanent disposition. The voyage lasts a day and a night; have you decided?”

  “We certainly have,” I answered, “since I am confident I can speak for Clairwil too: the object of our travels being to study the manners and morals of mankind and to see extraordinary things, we would not be living up to our purpose if we were to forego such an opportunity out of half-heartedness.”

  “By God, yes,” said my friend, “we shall do some fine fucking on Christine’s isle.”

  “Never,” said Durand, “never shall you have such pleasure.”

  “And upon that island of hers,” I said, “does she have—”

  “No,” Durand interrupted me, “not another word. I want everything to be a surprise for you.”

  And as she seemed unwilling to pursue the subject farther, I introduced another. “Now that I have found you again,” I said to the sorceress, “you must account for your sudden disappearance from Paris. Why were you not at the rendezvous arranged by that Comte de Belmor with whom I put you into touch?”

  “Indeed,” Durand replied, “I failed to come to that appointment, and it was for the very best of reasons: that was the day they hanged me.”

  “What!”

  “Hanged me, I say. It was simple enough: I had furnished poison to the young Due ***, he needed some to put his mother out of the way. Compunction upset the little fool’s scheme; he betrayed me; I was arrested, brought to trial within the space of a day. But, wonderfully connected with the Samson who presided, we found a compromise whereby I would be hanged merely for form’s sake. I held them off by eleventh-hour recriminations, and it was not until after night had fallen I was finally led down from the Hotel de Ville. Samson himself tied the noose, directed the mummery. I was carted to the graveyard, one of his valets, acting upon instructions, bought my body, and I was able to leave Paris before dawn. I went back the following year, to another quarter of town and under a different name; there has been no further fuss from anybody, and business has been steady and good ever since. There is truth in the saying that the hangman’s rope brings good luck. My income is today sixty thousand pounds, and I have been adding to my capital every year. I make an annual journey to Italy, where I replenish my stock of materials and compound the poisons I then distribute throughout all Europe. I find that preferable to preparing them at home. Actually, this kind of murdering is nowadays so much in style that it is all I can do to keep up with the demand. At Christine’s you will have occasion to see the very piquant effects of the venoms I have developed.”

  “You sell some to her?”

  “My God, a hundred thousand crowns’ worth every year.”

  “She is cruel, I take it?”

  “Incredibly so.”

  “Ah, I adore her already!” Clairwil exclaimed. “Whenever you wish, Durand, let us sail for Dalmatia.”

  “Charming woman,” I put in, “before anything else you must answer some more questions. I insist that you tell me who those curious individuals were, by whom you had us beaten, flogged; and who, in short, performed so many uncommon things before us when we were with you last.”

  “One of them,” said Durand, “was that same Due ***, Beaujeon was the other, the famous millionaire. For four years both had been feeing me enormously for services of a similar kind, and there is no counting the number of women and girls I deceived for them in the very same way. But, while I think of it,” said Durand, ringing for a servant, “you must not suppose that I am going to allow you to leave without having dinner. I would be heartbroken not to have you as my guests; I shall hear no refusals ….”

  And the most splendid meal was brought in almost immediately.

  “Durand,” said Clairwil when we reached dessert, “you promise us great pleasures for tomorrow. But what of today’s? It seems to me that among your valets I detected three or four strapping fellows with a very stiff-pricked look about them.”

  “Do you care to test their mettle?”

  “Why not! And you, Juliette, what say you?”

  “No,” I demurred, preoccupied with a thought I could not drive out of my head, an ill-defined premonition, “no, I believe I will drink a glass and talk with Durand rather than fuck. Besides, I am menstruating, and feel a little out of sorts.”

  “Until now I have never known you to refuse a prick,” said Clairwil, and for the briefest instant there showed upon her face a shadow of concern whose cause I was far from apprehending. “Come, my angel,” she resumed, brightening again, “when one cannot fuck in front, one fucks behind. Come, I say, join me: well you know that I taste no real pleasures save they be shared with you.”

  “No,” I repeated, still in the grip of that unknown foreboding, “I don’t feel at all in a mood for it … I simply wish to chat.”

  Clairwil walked toward the chamber that had been designated to her and, just before she entered it, I distinctly saw, in a mirror, the emphatic sign she made to the sorceress, a sign which I could interpret as nothing else than an injunction to silence. The door to the chamber closed; I remained sitting with Durand.

  “Oh, Juliette,” that woman said to me as soon as we had been left alone, “thank your lucky stars for all the sentiments you inspire in me. Charming girl,” she continued, taking me in her arms, “no, you shall not be the victim of that monster. … In every respect preferable to her, you shall be warned in time and your life saved.”

  “What are you saying to me, Madame! Such words freeze me with terror!”

  “Listen to me, Juliette; and having heard me, reveal nothing. This island in Dalmatia … this Princess Christine, this voyage … dear girl, had you taken it you were doomed. ’Twas all a trap set by a woman whom you believed to be your dearest friend.”

  “Clairwil!”

  “She plotted your death. She covets your wealth; in her pocket she has a piece of paper, a document in which you each name the other her sole heir. She was to assassinate you to come into possession of that legacy—”

  “The infernal creature!” I gasped, breathless with fury.

  “Steady, Juliette; a careless word could still be your undoing; sit where you are and hear me out. The vessel we were to embark upon, it sinks, we escape the wreck, you perish in it…. Take your revenge; take this packet I have here … it contains fulminant powder; among our poisons none acts more rapidly. Let her absorb a little and the next instant she will lie at your feet, as if thunderstruck. In return for this service I am rendering you I demand nothing; consider it as flowing from an excessive fondness for you.”

  “O my benefactress!” I cried, tears springing to my eyes, “you save me from the very direst danger! But much mystery yet clings to all this. How is it that you are in Ancona? How did Clairwil enter into contact with you?”

  “I have been following a step behind you ever since you left Naples, where I myself had gone to buy poisons. Clairwil met me there, laid out her scheme before me; at Loreto I hastened on ahead, and reached Ancona before you did, to set the stage for a scene to which I lent myself only because of the deepest desire to save your life. Had I refused Clairwil my collaboration, she would without question have had recourse to other means, and you would not be alive today.”

  “But once Clairwil decided to get rid of me, what need had she to wait so long?”

  “That document had not yet been drawn up, your money was not yet invested, nothing could be done until you were out of Rome; and she knew that, once you had left that city, your first stop would not come until Loreto. ’Twas for the day after she ordered me to have everything in readiness.”

  “Infamous creature! Thou whom I lov
ed so sincerely, in whose arms I surrendered myself in such candid good faith!”

  “She is a monster of perfidy and deceit,” Durand rejoined; “trust her under no circumstances. Just when you think you have the least to fear from her, that is the very instant when you must be most on your guard. Hark. I hear sounds. She may be about to return; the fact we are having this conversation together is not to her liking. Compose yourself, and when you strike, do not miss the mark; godspeed.”

  Clairwil was indeed upset when she returned; she had had an unsatisfactory fucking, said she, the two men given her had held their erections poorly. And over and above the rest, she was not accustomed to tasting pleasures in which her dear Juliette did not take an active part.

  “I would discharge better with you,” she went on, “were you disposed to a little masturbating.”

  “Tonight,” I replied, disguising my cruel state as best I could, “yes, tonight. At the moment, my dear, Adonis himself would leave me cold.”

  “Very well,” said she, “let us go to our inn. I too feel out of sorts, I don’t think I’d mind being in bed early. Goodbye, Durand,” she added, “and until tomorrow. Endeavor to have musicians, good food, and, above all, some good fuckers aboard that boat; without them I find travel by sea unendurably boring.”

  We repaired to our lodgings.

  “A strange woman, that Durand,” Clairwil said to me once we were alone together; “she is someone to be very wary of, my dearest. Were I not so devoted to you…. Would you believe, Juliette, that while you were off in the privy for a few minutes, the villain offered to poison you for two thousand louis?”

  This sally did not catch me off balance; in it I saw nothing but a wicked snare, which I had no trouble eluding. However, I deemed best to feign credulity.

  “Great God,” I said, “that woman is a monster! I now understand why I felt so distrustful of her the whole while we were talking.”

  “Your instincts warned you, and rightly: she had worked out a scheme for killing you, Juliette. The thought of your death entertained her.”

  “Ah,” said I, looking hard at Clairwil, “the stroke was perhaps to have been brought off during the voyage to the island….”