The Lost Girl When I try to study, I get punished for not being

able to answer.
by Dhang
Where now…I’m confused…
I am a girl, young in heart and in mind… I am
carefree, I enjoy doing nothing but play,play Somebody, please help me…
and play…I seldom go to school but hmp!
nobody cares! Instead,you will see me roaming You say that the world is beautiful, why is it
around standing at the nearby canto, or treating me this way?
hanging around at the sari-sari store standing
beside the jukebox stand… Hear me please!

One day I asked I asked my mother to teach me Help me please!

how to behave,to live, and appreciate all the
beautiful things in life. Help me…

Would you like to know what she told me? I am lost…

She said…
Bad Girl
" Can’t you see, I have to hurry up for my
majong session! " Hey! Everybody seems to be staring at me..
So I turned to my father to console me. But You! You! All of you!
what a wonderful world word he did tell me…
How dare you to stare at me?
" Child, I have to finish my overtime
work…Here’s 500 pesos, go and ask your Why? Is it because I’m a bad girl?
teacher about that question…"
A bad girl I am, A good for nothing teen ager, a
Sadly,I attended my class… But I heard nothing problem child?
but the echoing voice of my teacher,torturing
me with her words… That’s what you call me!

" Hey yo lazy girl! Why waste your time I smoke. I drink. I gamble at my young tender
studying those things? When up to now you age.
can’t even multiply seven by nine? Go home
and don’t bother me!!!" I lie. I cheat, and I could even kill, If I have too.

I am lost…confused…I don’t know what to do
with myself…
Where are my parents to guide me?
My teachers to give me inspirations?
Yes, I’m a bad girl, but where are my parents?
You! You! You are my good parents?
My good elder brother and sister in this society
where I live?

My friends, when I play? I’m lazy and Look…look at me…What have you done to me?
irresponsible.
You have pampered and spoiled me, neglected
me when I needed you most!
Entrusted me to a yaya, whose intelligence was
much lower than mine!
While you go about your parties, your meetings
and gambling session…
Thus… I drifted away from you!
Longing for a father’s love, yearning for a
mother’s care!
As I grew up, everything changed!
You too have changed!
You spent more time in your poker, majong
tables, bars and night clubs.
You even landed on the headlines of the
newspaper as crooks, pedlars and racketeers.
Now, you call me names, accuse me of
everything I do to myself?
Tell me! How good are you?
If you really wish to ensure my future…
Then hurry….hurry back home! Where I await
you, because I need you…
Protect me from all evil influences that will
threathen at my very own understanding…
But if I am bad, really bad…then, you’ve got to
help me!
Help me! Oh please…Help me!
Juvenile Delinquent
Am I a juvenile delinquent? I’m a teenager, I’m
young, young at heart in mind. In this position,
I’m carefree, I enjoy doing nothing but to drink
the wine of pleasure. I seldom go to school,
nobody cares!. But instead you can see me
roaming around. Standing at the nearby canto
(street). Or else standing beside a jukebox stand
playing the nerve tickling bugaloo. Those are
the reasons, why people, you branded me
delinquent, a juvenile delinquent.
My parents ignored me, my teachers sneered at
me and my friends, they neglected me. One
night I asked my mother to teach me how to
appreciate the values in life. Would you care
what she told me? "Stop bothering me! Can’t
you see? I had to dress up for my mahjong
session, some other time my child". I turned to
my father to console me, but, what a wonderful
thing he told me. "Child, here’s 500 bucks, get it
and enjoy yourself, go and ask your teachers
that question".
And in school, I heard nothing but the echoes of
the voices of my teachers torturing me with
these words. "Why waste your time in studying,
you can’t even divide 100 by 5! Go home and
plant sweet potatoes".
I may have the looks of Audrey Hepburn, the
calmly voice of Nathalie Cole. But that’s not
what you can see in me. Here’s a young girl who
needs counsel to enlighten her way and
guidance to strenghten her life into
contentment.
Honorable judge, friends and teachers…is this
the girl whom you commented a juvenile
delinquent?.
My parents ignored me, my teachers sneered at
me and my friends, they neglected me. One
night I asked my mother to teach me how to
appreciate the values in life. Would you care
what she told me? "Stop bothering me! Can’t
you see? I had to dress up for my mahjong
session, some other time my child". I turned to
my father to console me, but, what a wonderful
thing he told me. "Child, here’s 500 bucks, get it
and enjou yourself, go and ask your teachers
that question".

And in school, I heard nothing but the echoes of
the voices of my teachers torturing me with
these words. "Why waste your time in studying,
you can’t even divide 100 by 5! Go home and
plant sweet potatoes".
I may have the looks of Audrey Hepburn, the
calmly voice of Nathalie Cole. But that’s not
what you can see in me. Here’s a young girl who
needs counsel to enlighten her way and
guidance to strenghten her life into
contentment.
Honorable judge, friends and teachers…is this
the girl whom you commented a juvenile
delinquent?.
The Unpardonable Crime
Only one living creature seemed to take any
notice of his existence:
this was an old St. Bernard, who used to come
and lay his big head with its mournful eyes on
Christophe's knees when Christophe was sitting
on the seat in front of the house. They would
look long at each other. Christophe would not
drive him away Unlike the sick Goethe, the
dog's eyes had no uneasiness for him Unlike
him, he had no desire to cry:
"Go away! . . . Thou goblin thou shalt not catch
me, whatever thou doest!"
He asked nothing better than to be engrossed
by the dog's suppliant sleepy eyes and to help
the beast: he felt that there must be behind
them an imprisoned soul imploring his aid.
In those hours when he was weak with
suffering, torn alive away from life, devoid of
human egoism, he saw the victims of men, the
field of battle in which man triumphed in the
bloody slaughter of all other creatures: and his
heart was filled with pity and horror. Even in
the days when he had been happy he had
always loved the beasts: he had never been
able to bear cruelty towards them: he had
always had a detestation of sport, which he had
never dared to express for fear of ridicule: but
his feeling of repulsion had been the secret
cause of the apparently inexplicable feeling of
dislike he had had for certain men: he had
never been able to admit to his friendship a
man who could kill an animal for pleasure. It
was not sentimentality: no one knew better
than he that life is based on suffering and
infinite cruelty: no man can live without making
others suffer. It is no use closing our eyes and
fobbing ourselves off with words. It is no use
either coming to the conclusion that we must
renounce life and sniveling like children. No. We
must kill to live, if, at the time, there is no other
means of living. But the man who kills for the
sake of killing is a miscreant. An unconscious
miscreant, I know. But, all the same, a
miscreant. The continual endeavor of man
should be to lessen the sum of suffering and
cruelty: that is the first duty of humanity.
In ordinary life those ideas remained buried in
Christophe's inmost heart. He refused to think
of them. What was the good? What could he
do? He had to be Christophe, he had to
accomplish his work, live at all costs, live at the
cost of the weak. ... It was not he who had
made the universe. . . . Better not think of it,
better not think of it. ...
But when unhappiness had dragged him down,
him, too, to the level of the vanquished, he had
to think of these things. Only a little while ago
he had blamed Olivier for plunging into futile
remorse and vain compassion for all the
wretchedness that men suffer and inflict. Now
he went even farther: with all the vehemence of
his mighty nature he probed to the depths of
the tragedy of the universe: he suffered all the
sufferings of the world, and was left raw and
bleeding. He could not think of the animals
without shuddering in anguish. He looked into
the eyes of the beasts and saw there a soul like
his own, a soul which could not speak: but the
eyes cried for it:

"What have I done to you? Why do you hurt
me?" He could not bear to see the most
ordinary sights that he had seen hundreds of
times —a calf crying in a wicker pen, with its
big, protruding eyes, with their bluish whites
and pink lids, and white lashes, its curly white
tufts on its forehead, its purple snout, its knock-
kneed legs:—a lamb being carried by a peasant
with its four legs tied together, hanging head
down, trying to hold its head up, moaning like a
child, bleating and lolling its gray tongue:—
fowls huddled together in a basket:—the
distant squeals of a pig being bled to death:—a
fish being cleaned on the kitchen-table. . . . The
nameless tortures which men inflict on such
innocent creatures made his heart ache. Grant
animals a ray of reason, imagine what a frightful
nightmare the world is to them: a dream of
cold-blooded men, blind and deaf, cutting their
throats, slitting them open, gutting them,
cutting them into pieces, cooking them alive,
sometimes laughing at them and their
contortions as they writhe in agony. Is there
anything more atrocious among the cannibals
of Africa? To a man whose mind is free there is
something even more intolerable in the
sufferings of animals than in the sufferings of
men. For with the latter it is at least admitted
that suffering is evil and that the man who
causes it is a criminal. But thousands of animals
are uselessly butchered every day without a
shadow of remorse. If any man were to refer to
it, he would be thought ridiculous.—And that is
the unpardonable crime. That alone is the
justification of all that men may suffer. It cries
vengeance upon God. If there exists a good
God, then even the most humble of living things
must be saved. If God is good only to the
strong, if there is no justice for the weak and
lowly, for the poor creatures who are offered
up as a sacrifice to humanity, then there is no
such thing as goodness, no such thing as justice.
No Pardon For Me
I'm sentenced.
Sentenced to life in this dank cell of misery.
I can see the key- it hangs there,
just out my finger's reach, dangling there in a
mock of freedom.
There will be no pardon for me,no stay of this
execution.
My life has convicted me for crimes I did not
commit.
My penalty meted out.I followed every rule,
broke no laws, have more than paid my fines to
society's shun upon me.
There was no fair trial, no chance for me to
plead my case.
The jurors were sent from hell, quick to
judgement and showed no mercy as they read
their verdict.
Life/Death, what does it matter?
Its all the same in this prison.
I am but a mere victim, the criminal has gotten
away, while I do the time for fate's crimes
against me.
I can't escape the hounds they'd release, should
I attemp escape, for the walls and barbed wires
are too painful to scale and the hounds would
scent my fear.
So I sit here, waiting... waiting for the day they
walk me that longest mile, waiting for the flow
of their poison to seep within' my veins.
That lethal injection that will finally end this
misery of a soul so wrongfully convicted to die.
The Plea of an Aborted Fetus
LET THIS PRECIOUS ANGELS LIVE !
"SET ME FREE. LET ME LIVE, I DESERVE TO BE
BORN, I WANT TO LIVE. FOR HEAVENS SAKE,
HAVE PITY."
Ladies and Gentlemen, dear fathers and
mother, listen to my plea, listen to my story. I
could have been the 17th Lady President of the
Philippines Republic, had you given me the
chance to live, had you not deprived me of my
life, had you not taken away my privilege to be
born.
Some eleven years ago, a healthy ovum started
to generate in the womb of a woman with six
other children. My coming should be a herald of
joy, a symbol of love incarnate but to my
mommy it was a burden, a problem, an
additional mouth to feed. To Dad, it was a
mistake, an effect of Mom's carelessness for
not taking the contraceptive pills.
One gloomy day in June, my unexpected coming
was confirmed. It was a painful decision. I could
sense the imminent danger as Mom got inside
the abortion room. I was an unwanted child. No
one loved me. No one cared. I was a rejected
being, a tiny lump slowly forming into human
being with human soul. I was already alive,
kicking, struggling. My heart was already
beating and my thumb had already the unique
mark. As I was holding to my mother's womb a
splash of heat came all over me. I writhed in
extreme pain.
-- "Mom, why have you done this to me? Am I
not the flesh of your own flesh, the blood of
your own blood?"
The rubber suction caught my tiny limbs and
mercilessly twisted it slowly cutting it from my
body. I struggled for my life. 1,2,3 and the first
part of me came out.
-- "Mom, why have you permitted this? Am I
not Dad's pledge of love to you?"
Then it was followed by another rubber suction
sucking the other part moving it with force until
both were fully amputated.
-- "Mom, why have you done this to me? Am I
not God's image you promised to love and
protect?"
Then i felt shaken once, twice, several times
until I do not know anymore what has been
going around. I gushed forth my last breath...
Then came the final blow, my head - the
abortionist termed as No. I was totally cut from
my torso: total annihilation.
GONE IS MY CHANCE TO LEAD A HEALTHY
NORMAL LIFE.
GONE IS MY CHANCE TO BEHOLD THE MANY
LOVELY THINGS GOD CREATED FOR US.
GONE IS THE PROMISE OF A BLISSFUL LIFE.
I Killed Her
I killed her because I do love her. These hands,
these hands that gave life to many, killed her
because of my love for her.
Ladies and Gentlemen of this honorable court,
please listen to me, listen to my story before
you give my verdict. I am Dr. Reyes, a cancer
specialist. I was born in a slum district of
Batalon. My father oh! I don't know him for I
am a child of faith. My mother brought me up in
such determination and my ambition was to
escape the filthy and horrible place of Batalon. I
was nourished with hope that someday I might
live a life different from her. My mother had a
burning faith that she turned the nights into
days. All her efforts were not in vain for I
pushed through with flying colors. My mother
who had given her whole life to me had tears in
her eyes as she pinned the gold medal on my
proud chest.
Later on, I was sent as a scholar of the
Philippines to the United States of America. I
embraced my mother… tightly as I've reached
the plane….."Mother, mother,.." I whispered.
You will always be my best mother in the world.
After four years, I came back with laurels. I
became a cancer specialist. I gave my mother
everything but I was too late. I who had used to
ease the pain of many, came too late for the life
of my dying mother. I gave the best treatment
but the grasp of death was so tight around her.
My God, what is the use of ten years of study if I
couldn't even use it at my mother's pain.
Then one night, I heard a strange cry. I run to
her room. "Do you love me, child?"… she asked,
as I embrace her. " Yes, mother….. If only I could
get all your pain and agonies…"
" Then….. if you love me, end my sufferings, kill
me… Let me die."
"But, mother, I promise to give life and not to
end it."
God…. She did not deserve the unhappiness.
She deserves to be happy.
I run to my room and came back with a syringe.
"Mother, forgive me…. God, please understand
me…."
"Mother, mother, you must not die….. Don't
leave, I love you. It was only a distilled
water…..Mother…… Mother……. MOTHER……"
Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, give me your
verdict. Yes, it was only distilled water which
ended the sufferings of my mother.
Judge me….. Punish me………
GO, punish me………….. Thy will be done!!
Conscience
I wept, I cried so hard. But this tears can’t bring
back my sister to life. My being brought here by
my conscience. I want to ask forgiveness. But
can she still hear? O heart, forgive me for what I
have done, please bring peace to mind.
Dry leaves were crushed down below. As if to
freshen my memories that her life perished
because of my selfishness.
She was my only sister. Since our childhood, I
always believed that I was the favorite of our
dad. One night, while I was facing all about to
the mirror, with my micro mini, I puffed
powder, when I saw Luisa’s face, reflecting in
the mirror. "You can’t get out tonight, Lucille." I
heard a threatening tone from her. I turned to
her, but I can’t resist at her sharp stare at me.
"And who says so, my dear sister?" "We are to
celebrate Momma’s death anniversary, you
know that don’t you?" In a relaxed and
condescending voice, I replied "well I don’t
care. I’m going out to party tonight!"
Then I heard a knock on the door. I shouted
"Help Papa!" for I knew that it was he. I pulled
my hair, I tore my dress away as I was attacked
by a squad of monstrous creatures. When the
door opened the site Papa saw was that Luisa
was holding my neck who was trying to make a
rescue. But I cried so hard that made Papa grew
to the height of anger. He threw Luisa to the
corner, where the head of my poor sister was
hit at the edge of the chair.
I slowly rejoiced for I have made a successful
revenge. But when she lifted, I saw a different
sparkle in her tearful eyes. "Ha ha ha ha ha!" O
my, Luisa, she went out of her mind. I was not
able to move, as well as Papa. Both of us were
motionless. And before we returned to our
senses, Luisa ran to the door and proceeded to
the open gate of our house. We followed her
calling out her name. "Luisa!" "Sister!" "Luisa"
"Sister" "Luisa the Truck!" "Don’t cross the
road, Luisa, the truck don’t Don’t DON’T!"
The next sight I saw was that Luisa was thrown
five meters away from the truck. I ran to her
and embraced her. Blood was all over her face.
In a low but distinct voice she murmured, that
made my heart break so much. She said,
"Lucille, please be a good girl. I love you. Please
be a good girl ‘coz Papa loves you very much."
"Luisa? Luisa? Sister… sister!!!" From that
moment I cried so hard for killing my only sister,
who loved and cared for me, even at the last
moment of her life.
Now can you blame me, for asking God to
forgive me? Forgive me dear God, Forgive me!
Am I to be Blamed?
They’re chasing me, they’re chasing, no they
must not catch me, I have enough money now,
yes enough for my starving mother and
brothers.
Please let me go, let me go home before you
imprisoned me. Very well, officers? take me to
your headquarters. Good morning captain! no
captain, you are mistaken, I was once a good
girl, just like the rest of you here. Just like any of
your daughters. But time was, when I was
reared in slums. But we lived honestly, we lived
honestly in life. My, father, mother, brothers,
sisters and I. But then, poverty enters the
portals of our home. My father became jobless,
my mother got ill. The small savings that my
mother had kept for our expenses were spent.
All for our daily needs and her needed
medicine.
One night, my father went out, telling us that
he would come back in a few minutes with
plenty of foods and money, but that was the
last time I saw him. He went with another
woman. If only I could lay my hands on his neck
I would wring it without pain until he breaths
no more. If you were in my place, you’ll do it,
won’t you Captain? What? you won’t still
believe in me?. Come and I’ll show you a
dilapidated shanty by a railroad.
Mother, mother I’m home, mother? mother?!.
There Captain, see my dead mother. Captain?
there are tears in your eyes? now pack this
stolen money and return it to the owner. What
good would this do to my mother now? she’s
already gone! Do you hear me? she’s already
gone. Am I to be blamed for the things I have
done?
A Glass of Cold Water
Everybody calls me young, beautiful, wonderful.
Am I? Look at my hair, my lips, my red rosy
cheeks and a pair of blinkering eyes.
I remember, somebody says that I look like my
mother that I look like my mother. But that
when she was young.
Now, I am much lovelier than she is. I’m a
mortal Venus. Oops! What time is it? I must get
ready for the party!
Beep-beep…!A-huh! Here they are! Yes, I’m
coming!
"Child, are you still there?"
"Hmp! That’s my mama"
"Child, are you still there? Will you please get
me a glass of cold water?"
"Mama, I’m in a hurry!"
"Please child, try to get me a glass of cold
water."
"Mama, please, try to get it on your own."
"Please child, try to get me a glass of cold
water!"
At the party, I danced and danced the whole
night.
You see, I can’t leave the party at once. I have
to danced with everybody who proposed to me.
At last, the party is over. I’m very tired. Very,
very tired.
So, I went home to tell mama what happened.
"Mama, I’m home! It’s very quiet. "Mama, I’m
home!" Nobody answers.
Where is she? I look for her in the sala, but
she’s not there. Where is she? A-huh! In the
kitchen!
I saw my mama, lying down on the floor, dead.
With a glass on her hand. I remember, she tried
to get it.
Oh, God, just for the glass of cold water! Mama!
Mama! Oh, Mama!
Vengeance Is Not Ours, It’s God’s
Alms, alms, alms. Spare me a piece of bread.
Spare me your mercy. I am a child so young, so
thin, and so ragged.Why are you staring at me?
With my eyes I cannot see but I know that you
are all staring at me. Why are you whispering to
one another? Why? Do you know my mother?
Do you know my father? Did you know me five
years ago?
Yes, five years of bitterness have passed. I can
still remember the vast happiness mother and I
shared with each other. We were very happy
indeed.
Suddenly, five loud knocks were heard on the
door and a deep silence ensued. Did the cruel
Nippon’s discover our peaceful home? Mother
ran to Father’s side pleading. “Please, Luis, hide
in the cellar, there in the cellar where they
cannot find you,” I pulled my father’s arm but
he did not move. It seemed as though his feet
were glued to the floor.
The door went “bang” and before us five ugly
beasts came barging in. “Are you Captain Luis
Santos?” roared the ugliest of them all. “Yes,”
said my father. “You are under arrest,” said one
of the beasts. They pulled father roughly away
from us. Father was not given a chance to bid us
goodbye.
We followed them mile after mile. We were
hungry and thirsty. We saw group of Japanese
eating. Oh, how our mouths watered seeing the
delicious fruits they were eating,
Then suddenly, we heard a voice call,
“Consuelo. . . . Oscar. . . . Consuelo. . . . Oscar. . .
. Consuelo. . . . Oscar. . . .” we ran towards the
direction of the voice, but it was too late. We
saw father hanging on a tree. . . . dead. Oh, it
was terrible. He had been badly beaten before
he died. . . . and I cried vengeance, vengeance,
vengeance! Everything went black. The next
thing I knew I was nursing my poor invalid
mother.
One day, we heard the church bell ringing
“ding-dong, ding-dong!” It was a sign for us to
find a shelter in our hide-out, but I could not
leave my invalid mother, I tried to show her the
way to the hide-out.
Suddenly, bombs started falling; airplanes were
roaring overhead, canyons were firing from
everywhere. “Boom, boom, boom, boom!”
Mother was hit. Her legs were shattered into
pieces. I took her gently in my arms and cried,
“I’ll have vengeance, vengeance!” “No, Oscar.
Vengeance, it’s God’s,” said mother.
But I cried out vengeance. I was like a pent-up
volcano. “Vengeance is mine not the Lord’s”.
“No, Oscar. Vengeance is not ours, it’s God’s”
these were the words from my mother before
she died.
Mother was dead and I was blind. Vengeance is
not ours? To forgive is divine but vengeance is
sweeter. That was five years ago, five years. . . .
Alms, alms, alms. Spare me a piece of bread.
Spare me your mercy. I am a child so young, so
thin, and so ragged. Vengeance is not ours, it’s
God’s. . . . It’s. . . . God’s. . It’s…
Parricide
"Your honor, as I do not wish to go to an insane
asylum, and as I even prefer death to that, I will
tell everything."I killed this man and this woman
because they were my parents."Now, listen,
and judge me.
"A woman, having given birth to a boy, sent him
out, somewhere, to a nurse. Did she even know
where her accomplice carried this innocent
little being, condemned to eternal misery, to
the shame of an illegitimate birth; to more than
that--to death, since he was abandoned and the
nurse, no longer receiving the monthly pension,
might, as they often do, let him die of hunger
and neglect!
"The woman who nursed me was honest,
better, more noble, more of a mother than my
own mother. She brought me up. She did wrong
in doing her duty. It is more humane to let them
die, these little wretches who are cast away in
suburban villages just as garbage is thrown
away.
"I grew up with the indistinct impression that I
was carrying some burden of shame. One day
the other children called me a 'b-----'. They did
not know the meaning of this word, which one
of them had heard at home. I was also ignorant
of its meaning, but I felt the sting all the same.
"I was, I may say, one of the cleverest boys in
the school. I would have been a good man, your
honor, perhaps a man of superior intellect, if
my parents had not committed the crime of
abandoning me.
"This crime was committed against me. I was
the victim, they were the guilty ones. I was
defenseless, they were pitiless. Their duty was
to love me, they rejected me.
"I owed them life--but is life a boon? To me, at
any rate, it was a misfortune. After their
shameful desertion, I owed them only
vengeance. They committed against me the
most inhuman, the most infamous, the most
monstrous crime which can be committed
against a human creature.
"A man who has been insulted, strikes; a man
who has been robbed, takes back his own by
force. A man who has been deceived, played
upon, tortured, kills; a man who has been
slapped, kills; a man who has been dishonored,
kills. I have been robbed, deceived, tortured,
morally slapped, dishonored, all this to a
greater degree than those whose anger you
excuse.
"I revenged myself, I killed. It was my legitimate
right. I took their happy life in exchange for the
terrible one which they had forced on me.
"You will call me parricide! Were these people
my parents, for whom I was an abominable
burden, a terror, an infamous shame; for whom
my birth was a calamity and my life a threat of
disgrace? They sought a selfish pleasure; they
got an unexpected child. They suppressed the
child. My turn came to do the same for them.
"And yet, up to quite recently, I was ready to
love them.
"As I have said, this man, my father, came to me
for the first time two years ago. I suspected
nothing. He ordered two pieces of furniture. I
found out, later on, that, under the seal of
secrecy, naturally, he had sought information
from the priest.
"He returned often. He gave me a lot of work
and paid me well. Sometimes he would even
talk to me of one thing or another. I felt a
growing affection for him.
"At the beginning of this year he brought with
him his wife, my mother. When she entered she
was trembling so that I thought her to be
suffering from some nervous disease. Then she
asked for a seat and a glass of water. She said
nothing; she looked around abstractedly at my
work and only answered 'yes' and 'no,' at
random, to all the questions which he asked
her. When she had left I thought her a little
unbalanced.
"The following month they returned. She was
calm, self-controlled. That day they chattered
for a long time, and they left me a rather large
order. I saw her three more times, without
suspecting anything. But one day she began to
talk to me of my life, of my childhood, of my
parents. I answered: 'Madame, my parents
were wretches who deserted me.' Then she
clutched at her heart and fell, unconscious. I
immediately thought: 'She is my mother!' but I
took care not to let her notice anything. I
wished to observe her.
"I, in turn, sought out information about them. I
learned that they had been married since last
July, my mother having been a widow for only
three years. There had been rumors that they
had loved each other during the lifetime of the
first husband, but there was no proof of it. I was
the proof--the proof which they had at first
hidden and then hoped to destroy.
"I waited. She returned one evening, escorted
as usual by my father. That day she seemed
deeply moved, I don't know why. Then, as she
was leaving, she said to me: 'I wish you success,
because you seem to me to be honest and a
hard worker; some day you will undoubtedly
think of getting married. I have come to help
you to choose freely the woman who may suit
you. I was married against my inclination once
and I know what suffering it causes. Now I am
rich, childless, free, mistress of my fortune.
Here is your dowry.'
"She held out to me a large, sealed envelope.
"I looked her straight in the eyes and then said:
'Are you my mother?'
"She drew back a few steps and hid her face in
her hands so as not to see me. He, the man, my
father, supported her in his arms and cried out
to me: 'You must be crazy!'
"I answered: 'Not in the least. I know that you
are my parents. I cannot be thus deceived.
Admit it and I will keep the secret; I will bear
you no ill will; I will remain what I am, a
carpenter.'
"He retreated towards the door, still supporting
his wife who was beginning to sob. Quickly I
locked the door, put the key in my pocket and
continued: 'Look at her and dare to deny that
she is my mother.'
"Then he flew into a passion, very pale, terrified
at the thought that the scandal, which had so
far been avoided, might suddenly break out;
that their position, their good name, their
honor might all at once be lost. He stammered
out: 'You are a rascal, you wish to get money
from us! That's the thanks we get for trying to
help such common people!'
"My mother, bewildered, kept repeating: 'Let's
get out of here, let's get out!'
"Then, when he found the door locked, he
exclaimed : 'If you do not open this door
immediately, I will have you thrown into prison
for blackmail and assault!'
"I had remained calm; I opened the door and
saw them disappear in the darkness.
"Then I seemed to have been suddenly
orphaned, deserted, pushed to the wall. I was
seized with an overwhelming sadness, mingled
with anger, hatred, disgust; my whole being
seemed to rise up in revolt against the injustice,
the meanness, the dishonor, the rejected love. I
began to run, in order to overtake them along
the Seine, which they had to follow in order to
reach the station of Chaton.
"I soon caught up with them. It was now pitch
dark. I was creeping up behind them softly, that
they might not hear me. My mother was still
crying. My father was saying: 'It's all your own
fault. Why did you wish to see him? It was
absurd in our position. We could have helped
him from afar, without showing ourselves. Of
what use are these dangerous visits, since we
can't recognize him?'
"Then I rushed up to them, beseeching. I cried:
'You see! You are my parents. You have already
rejected me once; would you repulse me
again?' "Then, your honor, he struck me. I
swear it on my honor, before the law and my
country. He struck me, and as I seized him by
the collar, he drew from his pocket a revolver.
"The blood rushed to my head, I no longer knew
what I was doing, I had my compass in my
pocket; I struck him with it as often as I could.
"Then she began to cry: 'Help! murder!' and to
pull my me. It seems that I killed her also. How
do I know what I did then?

"Then, when I saw them both lying on the

ground, without thinking, I threw them into the
Seine."That's all. Now sentence me."