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and prattle, who are like a living perfume, who prove the
existence of angels in heaven by the purity of virgins on
earth, that Jeanne, that Lise, that Mimi, those adorable and
honest creatures who are your blessings and your pride, ah!
good God, they will suffer hunger! What do you want me
to say to you? There is a market for human flesh; and it is
not with your shadowy hands, shuddering around them,
that you will prevent them from entering it! Think of the
street, think of the pavement covered with passers-by, think
of the shops past which women go and come with necks all
bare, and through the mire. These women, too, were pure
once. Think of your sisters, those of you who have them.
Misery, prostitution, the police, Saint-Lazare— that is what
those beautiful, delicate girls, those fragile marvels of mod-
esty, gentleness and loveliness, fresher than lilacs in the
month of May, will come to. Ah! you have got yourselves
killed! You are no longer on hand! That is well; you have
wished to release the people from Royalty, and you deliv-
er over your daughters to the police. Friends, have a care,
have mercy. Women, unhappy women, we are not in the
habit of bestowing much thought on them. We trust to the
women not having received a man’s education, we prevent
their reading, we prevent their thinking, we prevent their
occupying themselves with politics; will you prevent them
from going to the dead-house this evening, and recogniz-
ing your bodies? Let us see, those who have families must
be tractable, and shake hands with us and take themselves
off, and leave us here alone to attend to this affair. I know
well that courage is required to leave, that it is hard; but the