André Gide - The White Notebook

We remained silent.

“Oh, André,” you again interposed, but in a whisper and with your head lowered, “you acted cowardly this evening.”

Raindrops were beginning to fall. We went back inside.

The storm broke during the night. You were suffering: feverish and almost delirious.

The next day you stayed in bed and refused to see me.

“My affliction is not serious,” you said. 48

( Thursday )

“My thoughts kept me awake almost all night long. I could not sleep. ‘Oh, André, you acted cowardly this evening.’ Suddenly I felt you next to me, so frail, so fragile — as if penitent.”

“It was wrong for me to do what I did: to upset you, to wish to disturb your soul.… And could I satisfy it after altering it?”

“You acted cowardly!

“Her contempt! Do not hold me in contempt!.. What now?”

( October 5)

“All day long I experienced infinite sadness amid grey surroundings.

“I collected one by one my sullied hopes, and I cried over each of them.

“All my strength had left me! I no longer dared even desire you from afar.”

“I ceased to pursue your soul.

“I shall wait. I shall be there. I shall still be the same. If you have the slightest desire for me, I shall rush to your side — but not until you call me. I shall wait.”

( Sunday )

“Today I lived close to her but our eyes did not seek each other. I did not draw near you. I was lost in thought almost all day long.

“Waiting.

“We shall travel PARALLEL. That used to drive me to despair.”

“I have again started to read my Bible. I must once again ascend the slope which I descended unsuspectingly.

“Oh, how difficult it is!”

I skip over pages — the transition will be too abrupt, but I am tired of recounting everything.

I would like new things — and I see some that are so radiant.…

I was sad then.… How distant is this “then!” Outside spring is in the air — and I would like to sing:

For the day is approaching, the dawn draws near.

( October 18)

“Self-esteem, contentment in the soul! The splendor of virtue, which I at first sought for you, gradually dazzles and attracts me.

“There are loftier emotions, nobler yearnings, more sublime raptures.

“The soul evolves.”

( October 22)

“For me alone! For me alone!

“They will not understand — what does it matter to me?

“My heart is flooded. I must sing.

“A little harmony rather than words — no sentences — O for words that they might understand!

“My heart teems with incantations. My soul floats on a moving tide of modulations and broken arpeggios which rise like a troubled flight of furtive wings and incessantly fall without being resolved.

“Passion flows rhythmically, metrically, quietly … passion subsides; the soul meditates.”

“ALLAIN.

“In order not to taint her purity, I shall abstain from caressing her — in order not to disturb her soul — and even from the most chaste caresses, from clasping her hand … for fear that she may later desire all the more that which I could never give her. And I shall not look into her eyes for fear that she may wish me to come closer and cause me in spite of everything to go so far as to kiss her.

“In this way our souls will remain fearful even though one calls out to the other.…” 49

( October 25)

The soul meditates:

No virtue without effort. My chastity is not virtuous. I love to love because it is sweet for me to love and because I would be loved as much as I love … but there is no effort.

Nor does effort count if motivated by the desire for the esteem of another — for her esteem. The effort must be made without hope for reward.

I am searching for the source of virtue.

Virtue would consist in doing good without her knowing about it … yes, without my laying claim later to a larger measure of her esteem.…

Without her knowing … and willfully — is this possible? First, before acting, I would have to promise not to say anything to her — about the act, nor to anyone who would repeat my words to her — to bury the act in my heart. It is at this point that the idea of God is necessary. I would have to appear to myself to be offering it to her like a secret sacrifice whose smoke would rise to her without being seen by men — to promise myself to hide it forever!..

But this thought tantalizes me: “What would be the use then — since she would not know about it?”

Mercenary! The reward for good must be found in the good itself; we must not expect it to come from men.

Or take the reward of meriting her esteem — of feeling that when I approach her, I am worthy (a little more worthy at least). Oh, without my saying a word, she would read it in my eyes, would look past my eyes into my soul.…

“Never mind,” she would say. “I know without being told.”

Here again, her esteem would be involved. To be sure, I would have advanced, but not far enough. What else?

I would have to be vilified by her until my rebellious pride crumbles; to accept the unjust accusation without trying to defend myself in order that she might think me worse than I am. That would be struggling, heart-break, triumph!

But suppose that as a result she loved me less?

Well, now! that is the acid test. Virtue consists in feeling that I am above her esteem, that I am more worthy than she thinks. That she would love me less matters not, for I would love her all the more; this would be my reward. I would not be deluded, for I would know that my actions were motivated by the need for self-esteem, by pride; still, I would accept the inevitable, loyally, simply, without pretending to wage gratuitous moral battles with myself.

Yes, that is how things stand. Virtue consists in suffering the loss of her esteem. I must lose her esteem — but how? A lie through which I discredit myself? No, the act itself must be thoroughly pure. The best way is for me to let things drift along, simply, ordinarily; this will cause me to suffer the most, for I am afraid of being encouraged by the test itself, by some slight theatrical element which I might introduce into it.

Then, simply, ordinarily, I shall let myself be discredited by things, by all those things that surround me, by the infinite number of petty, accidental accusations that will cause my aggravated pride to bristle; but I shall restrain it and in the evening, very calm and very lonely, I shall pray and shall slowly kill my mutilated ego.

And I shall love you still more, bless you still more, my sister, because I shall whisper to myself (but not to you) that it is to you that I must become better.

I must deserve you by leaving you — (oh! artless).

“ The more abundantly I love you, the less I am loved. ” (II Cor. 12:15). 50

“For me alone! For me alone!

“They will not understand … but what does it matter?

“I shall always recognize you, dear tears of love, under the mystery (to others) of these sobs, these pleas, these laments.…

“Tears? Why tears?”

“I am happy, however … she loves me … but my soul trembles when night falls.

“In the street they laughed in passing. I did not know who was singing, but the voice was too loud. Then evening came and stillness reigned. The water reflected the pink sky, except under dark bridges.

“And I did not know — I walked like a fool. My head was filled with songs.

“Then evening came and stillness reigned … shadows lengthened — and pale night appeared in the pale sky … great encompassing night.

“Tears? Why tears. Tears of love, of ecstasy!

“I weep because the night is beautiful and hope floods my soul.”