Yes," she exclaimed, jumping up
and pacing the room in great agitation, "there are hours and days
when I myself believe that I am a demon, an angel hurled down from
heaven, and doomed to walk the earth on account of some crime. There
are hours when heavenly recollections fill my imagination, when an
indescribable, blissful yearning is, as it were, enveloping me in a
veil--when there are resounding in my heart the sweetest and most
enchanting notes of sacred words and devout prayers, and when it
seems to me as though I were sitting in the midst of radiant angels,
surrounded by luminous clouds, at the feet of God, His breath upon
my cheek, and looking down with compassionate, merciful love upon
the world, lying at an unfathomable distance under my feet. And then
I say to myself: 'You have reviled and slandered yourself; you are,
after all, a good angel; God is with you, and prayer, love, and
innocence, are in your heart.' Then it suddenly seems to me as if my
heart were rent, and I heard loud, scornful laughter. I fall from my
heaven; I look around and behold men, with their bittersweet faces,
smiling on, and lying to each other; I see all their duplicity and
their infamy; I laugh at my own transports and swear never to be
human with humanity, but a demon with demons--to cheat as they
cheat, to lie, and win from them as much happiness, honor, and
wealth, as I can with some mimic talent, a cool and sharp mind, a
pretty figure, and an ugly face.
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