“Monsieur le President, gentlemen of the jury:  I have very little to say.  The woman whose grave I violated was my sweetheart.  I loved her.

“I loved her, not with a sensual love and not with mere tenderness of heart and soul, but with an absolute, complete love, with an overpowering passion.

“Hear me: 

“When I met her for the first time I felt a strange sensation.  It was not astonishment nor admiration, nor yet that which is called love at first sight, but a feeling of delicious well-being, as if I had been plunged into a warm bath.  Her gestures seduced me, her voice enchanted me, and it was with infinite pleasure that I looked upon her person.  It seemed to me as if I had seen her before and as if I had known her a long time.  She had within her something of my spirit.

“She seemed to me like an answer to a cry uttered by my soul, to that vague and unceasing cry with which we call upon Hope during our whole life.

“When I knew her a little better, the mere thought of seeing her again filled me with exquisite and profound uneasiness; the touch of her hand in mine was more delightful to me than anything that I had imagined; her smile filled me with a mad joy, with the desire to run, to dance, to fling myself upon the ground.

“So we became lovers.

“Yes, more than that:  she was my very life.  I looked for nothing further on earth, and had no further desires.  I longed for nothing further.

“One evening, when we had gone on a somewhat long walk by the river, we were overtaken by the rain, and she caught cold.  It developed into pneumonia the next day, and a week later she was dead.

“During the hours of her suffering astonishment and consternation prevented my understanding and reflecting upon it, but when she was dead I was so overwhelmed by blank despair that I had no thoughts left.  I wept.

“During all the horrible details of the interment my keen and wild grief was like a madness, a kind of sensual, physical grief.

“Then when she was gone, when she was under the earth, my mind at once found itself again, and I passed through a series of moral sufferings so terrible that even the love she had vouchsafed to me was dear at that price.

“Then the fixed idea came to me:  I shall not see her again.

“When one dwells on this thought for a whole day one feels as if he were going mad.  Just think of it!  There is a woman whom you adore, a unique woman, for in the whole universe there is not a second one like her.  This woman has given herself to you and has created with you the mysterious union that is called Love.  Her eye seems to you more vast than space, more charming than the world, that clear eye smiling with her tenderness.  This woman loves you.  When she speaks to you her voice floods you with joy.

“And suddenly she disappears!  Think of it!  She disappears, not only for you, but forever.  She is dead.  Do you understand what that means?  Never, never, never, not anywhere will she exist any more.  Nevermore will that eye look upon anything again; nevermore will that voice, nor any voice like it, utter a word in the same way as she uttered it.