She would have cursed the Almighty had she been able to shout out a blasphemy. Providence had deceived her… — Emile Zola
She would have cursed the Almighty had she been able to shout out a blasphemy. Providence had deceived her for over sixty years, by treating her as a gentle, good little girl, by amusing her with lying representations of tranquil joy. And she had remained a child, senselessly believing in a thousand silly things, and unable to see life as it really is, dragging along in the sanguinary filth of passions. Providence was bad; it should have told her the truth before, or have allowed her to continue in her innocence and blindness. Now, it only remained for her to die, denying love, denying friendship, denying devotedness. Nothing existed but murder and lust.
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In reality, one single thought tormented them: they were irritated at their crime, and in despair at having for ever troubled their lives.
Sometimes, forcing themselves to hope, they sought to resume the burning dreams of other days, and were quite astonished to find they had no imagination.
It was like a lightning flash of passion, swift and blinding in a leaden sky.
