Fjallkonan #40 | 13 October 1900

The missing chapter²⁰⁸

OVER THE LAST FEW DAYS THE COUNT HAS BEEN IN THE best of moods, spending more time at home than usual. He sat with me all evening—like he did on the first night I was here—and tried to entertain me; he may partly have done so to improve his English. He has told me many stories about his family and most of them were so obscene and lewd that they are not to be repeated, neither in speech nor in writing. Certainly we English folk are no angels,²⁰⁹ but nevertheless—thankfully—we consider certain moral principles to be our laws of nature, and we believe that our moral aspirations are supported by decency in speech, written word and behavior. Sinfulness may hide beneath an impeccable disguise. Much like dust and dirt, it can be found anywhere, yet it is crucial to society that such behavior is condemned as vicious and damaging. Surely the community that is ashamed of its filth is truly healthier than that in which people are shameless enough to throw their rubbish on streets and crossroads as if it does not matter. I understand that the Count may consider our ideas of morality to be worthless, and that ethical behavior—as we call it—in his opinion is nothing but worldly wisdom that man has learned from experience. I do not pretend to be very strict with morals myself; still, I cannot condone that the only strings constantly struck are those of uncurbed carnal craving.

It’s as if the Count believes that the love between a man and a woman—in its basest form—is the only thing that counts in this world.²¹⁰ Half in jest, I pointed this out to him the other day, and I didn’t fail to mention that I cannot subscribe to such a view.

“Oh, you are such a great Joseph, I admire you,”²¹¹ he said and laughed disturbingly. “I respect your principles—for having them is truly a rare virtue nowadays—but believe me, you too will someday prove the saying ‘C’est l’amour, l’amour, l’amour, qui fait tourner la terre’ to be true (that is, ‘The love of women is what makes the world go round’²¹²). You will understand me! Look at me!”

He slapped my shoulder, and I felt the blood rush to my head as he looked at me, but I must not have understood him the way he intended, for if I had, I would have been—