Loss of Halo (Perte d’Aureole) by Charles Baudelaire
“What! You here, too, old pal? You, in this den of iniquity! You, quaffer of quintessences! You, who sup on ambrosia! This is a real surprise.”
“My dear chap, you know my fear of horses and carriages. Just now, as I raced across the street, stomping in the mud to get through that chaos in motion where death gallops at you from all sides at once, my halo slipped off my head and onto the filthy ground. I’m afraid I didn’t have the sang-froid to pick it up –let’s just say I deemed it less disagreeable to lose my insignia than to have my bones broken. And then I said to myself, look for the silver lining. I can now walk around incognito, doing whatever nasty things I like, indulging my vices just as lesser mortals do. And here I am, just like you, as you see!”
“You should at least report the loss of your halo or post a reward for its recovery.”
“Not on your life. I am quite happy here. You alone have recognized me. Besides, dignity bores me. And it pleases me to think that some bad poet will pick it up and put it on his impudent head. How sweet to make someone happy! Especially someone I can laugh at! Think of X or Z. You have to admit that’s funny.”
-- translated by David Lehman
[from The American Scholar, Spring 2014]
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