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In such mental agony as this, from very excess of feeling one no longer
thinks, or if one thinks, it is distractedly. One only longs for some
end or other. The death of others instills in you so much horror that
your own death becomes an object of desire; that is to say, if by dying,
you would be in some degree useful! One calls to mind deaths which have
put an end to angers and to revolts. One only retains this ambition, to
be a useful corpse.
I walked along terribly thoughtful.
I went towards the boulevards; I saw there a furnace; I heard there a
thunderstorm.
I saw Jules Simon coming up to me, who during these disastrous days
bravely risked a precious life. He stopped me. "Where are you going?" he
asked me. "You will be killed. What do you want?" "That very thing,"
said I.
We shook hands.
I continued to go on.
I reached the boulevard; the scene was indescribable. I witnessed this
crime, this butchery, this tragedy. I saw that reign of blind death, I
saw the distracted victims fall around me in crowds. It is for this that
I have signed myself in this book AN EYE-WITNESS.
Destiny entertains a purpose. It watches mysteriously over the future
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