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Anatole France

The Gods Are Athirst

Les Dieux ont soif · Complete French–English bilingual edition

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The Gods Are AthirstChapter XIII · Paragraphs 18–20

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Facing Pages · Branch 64 of 120

Chapter XIII · Paragraphs 18–20

Edition pages

Printed pages in the supplied Diotimos 2026 bilingual edition.

French
Diotimos 2026 pp. 270, 272, 274, 276
English
Diotimos 2026 pp. 271, 273, 275, 277

French

Les juges du Tribunal révolutionnaire ne faisaient pas de distinction entre les hommes et les femmes, inspirés en cela par un principe aussi ancien que la justice même. Et, si le président Montané, touché par le courage et la beauté de Charlotte Corday, avait tenté de la sauver en altérant la procédure, et y avait perdu son siège, les femmes, le plus souvent, étaient interrogées sans faveur, d’après la règle commune à tous les tribunaux. Les jurés les craignaient, se défiaient de leurs ruses, de leur habitude de feindre, de leurs moyens de séduction. Égalant les hommes en courage, elles invitaient par là le Tribunal à les traiter comme les hommes. La plupart de ceux qui les jugeaient, médiocrement sensuels ou sensuels à leurs heures, n’en étaient nullement troublés. Ils condamnaient ou acquittaient ces femmes selon leur conscience, leurs préjugés, leur zèle, leur amour mol ou violent de la République. Elles se montraient presque toutes soigneusement coiffées et mises avec autant de recherche que leur permettait leur malheureux état. Mais il y en avait peu de jeunes, moins encore de jolies. La prison et les soucis les avaient flétries, le jour cru de la salle trahissait leur fatigue, leurs angoisses, accusait leurs paupières flétries, leur teint couperosé, leurs lèvres blanches et contractées. Pourtant le fatal fauteuil reçut plus d’une fois une femme jeune, belle dans sa pâleur, alors qu’une ombre funèbre, pareille aux voiles de la volupté, noyait ses regards. A cette vue, que des jurés se soient ou attendris ou irrités; que, dans le secret de ses sens dépravés, un de ces magistrats ait scruté les secrets les plus intimes de cette créature qu’il se représentait à la fois vivante et morte, et que, en remuant des images voluptueuses et sanglantes, il se soit donné le plaisir atroce de livrer au bourreau ce corps désiré, c’est ce que, peut-être, on doit taire, mais qu’on ne peut nier, si l’on connaît les hommes. Évariste Gamelin, artiste froid et savant, ne reconnaissait de beauté qu’à l’antique, et la beauté lui inspirait moins de trouble que de respect. Son goût classique avait de telles sévérités qu’il trouvait rarement une femme à son gré; il était insensible aux charmes d’un joli visage autant qu’à la couleur de Fragonard et aux formes de Boucher. Il n’avait jamais connu le désir que dans l’amour profond.

Comme la plupart de ses collègues du Tribunal, il croyait les femmes plus dangereuses que les hommes. Il haïssait les ci-devant princesses, celles qu’il se figurait, dans ses songes pleins d’horreur, mâchant, avec Élisabeth et l’Autrichienne, des balles pour assassiner les patriotes; il haïssait même toutes ces belles amies des financiers, des philosophes et des hommes de lettres, coupables d’avoir joui des plaisirs des sens et de l’esprit et vécu dans un temps où il était doux de vivre. Il les haïssait sans s’avouer sa haine, et, quand il en avait quelqu’une à juger, il la condamnait par ressentiment, croyant la condamner avec justice pour le salut public. Et son honnêteté, sa pudeur virile, sa froide sagesse, son dévouement à l’État, ses vertus enfin, poussaient sous la hache des têtes touchantes.

Mais qu’est ceci et que signifie ce prodige étrange? Naguère encore il fallait chercher les coupables, s’efforcer de les découvrir dans leur retraite et de leur tirer l’aveu de leur crime. Maintenant, ce n’est plus la chasse avec une multitude de limiers, la poursuite d’une proie timide: voici que de toutes parts s’offrent les victimes. Nobles, vierges, soldats, filles publiques se ruent sur le Tribunal, arrachent aux juges leur condamnation trop lente, réclament la mort comme un droit dont ils sont impatients de jouir. Ce n’est pas assez de cette multitude dont le zèle des délateurs a rempli les prisons et que l’accusateur public et ses acolytes s’épuisent à faire passer devant le Tribunal: il faut pourvoir encore au supplice de ceux qui ne veulent pas attendre. Et tant d’autres, encore plus prompts et plus fiers, enviant leur mort aux juges et aux bourreaux, se frappent de leur propre main! A la fureur de tuer répond la fureur de mourir. Voici, à la Conciergerie, un jeune militaire, beau, vigoureux, aimé; il a laissé dans la prison une amante adorable qui lui a dit: "Vis pour moi!" Il ne veut vivre ni pour elle, ni pour l’amour, ni pour la gloire. Il a allumé sa pipe avec son acte d’accusation. Et, républicain, car il respire la liberté par tous les pores, il se fait royaliste afin de mourir. Le Tribunal s’efforce de l’acquitter; l’accusé est le plus fort; juges et jurés sont obligés de céder.

English

The judges of the Revolutionary Tribunal made no distinction between men and women, guided in this by a principle as old as justice itself. And if President Montané, touched by Charlotte Corday’s courage and beauty, had tried to save her by altering the procedure and had lost his seat for it, women were most often questioned without favour, under the rule common to all courts. The jurors feared them, distrusted their tricks, their habit of pretending, their powers of seduction. Their courage equalled men’s, and thus invited the Tribunal to treat them like men. Most of those who judged them, little given to sensuality or sensual only at certain times, were not disturbed by them at all. They condemned or acquitted these women according to their conscience, their prejudices, their zeal, their mild or violent love of the Republic. Almost all appeared with their hair carefully dressed and their clothing as elaborate as their unhappy condition allowed. But few were young and fewer still pretty. Prison and care had withered them; the chamber’s harsh light betrayed their fatigue and anguish, accentuating their faded eyelids, their blotched complexions, their pale, contracted lips. Yet more than once the fatal armchair received a young woman, beautiful in her pallor, while a funereal shadow, like the veils of sensual pleasure, drowned her gaze. That at such a sight jurors may have been softened or enraged; that, in the secrecy of his depraved senses, one of these magistrates may have probed the most intimate secrets of this creature whom he pictured at once living and dead, and that, stirring voluptuous and bloody images within himself, he may have taken the atrocious pleasure of handing this desired body to the executioner—perhaps one ought to be silent about it, but one cannot deny it if one knows mankind. Évariste Gamelin, a cold and learned artist, recognised beauty only in the antique manner, and beauty inspired him less with disturbance than with respect. His classical taste was so severe that he rarely found a woman to his liking; he was as insensible to the charms of a pretty face as to Fragonard’s colour or Boucher’s forms. He had never known desire except in profound love.

Like most of his colleagues on the Tribunal, he thought women more dangerous than men. He hated the former princesses whom, in his dreams full of horror, he pictured chewing bullets with Élisabeth and the Austrian woman to murder patriots. He even hated all those beautiful friends of financiers, philosophers and men of letters, guilty of having enjoyed the pleasures of the senses and the mind, and of having lived in a time when life was sweet. He hated them without admitting his hatred to himself, and when he had one of them to judge, he condemned her from resentment, believing that he condemned her justly for the public safety. And his honesty, his manly modesty, his cold wisdom, his devotion to the State—his virtues, in short—drove touching heads beneath the axe.

But what is this, and what does this strange prodigy mean? Only recently the guilty had to be sought out, efforts made to discover them in their hiding places and extract confessions of their crimes. Now it is no longer a hunt with a multitude of bloodhounds, a pursuit of timid prey: victims offer themselves from every side. Noblemen, virgins, soldiers, prostitutes rush upon the Tribunal, wrest from the judges the sentence they are too slow to give, demand death as a right they are impatient to enjoy. It is not enough to deal with the multitude whom the zeal of informers has crowded into the prisons, and whom the public prosecutor and his acolytes exhaust themselves in bringing before the Tribunal: provision must also be made for the execution of those who will not wait. And so many others, still quicker and prouder, begrudging the judges and executioners their death, strike themselves down with their own hands! The fury to kill is answered by the fury to die. Here, in the Conciergerie, is a young officer, handsome, vigorous, loved; he has left an adorable mistress in prison, who told him, ‘Live for me!’ He will not live for her, or for love, or for glory. He has lit his pipe with his indictment. A republican—for he breathes liberty through every pore—he makes himself a royalist in order to die. The Tribunal struggles to acquit him; the accused is the stronger; judges and jurors are obliged to yield.

About This Reading Edition

Anatole France’s The Gods Are Athirst follows the painter Évariste Gamelin as revolutionary conviction draws him into the work of the Revolutionary Tribunal. This complete French–English edition preserves the novel’s twenty-nine chapters, paired by source paragraph, with an introduction, historical orientation, glossary, and chapter notes.

Historical Text and Translation

The novel appeared in volume in 1912. The complete French reading text follows Project Gutenberg eBook 36477, whose underlying impression is undated and carries a later Brodard & Taupin colophon. Chapter I was also checked against a separate 1912 printing; that limited collation is distinguished from the source used for the whole novel.

About Diotimos Editions

The new English translation and editorial matter were generated and revised with AI for Diotimos Editions. The reader preserves the supplied paragraph pairing, songs, quoted letters, and 431 chapter notes, together with the source register and the edition’s statement of editorial responsibility.

Rights

Anatole France’s French source work is in the public domain. The new 2026 English translation and Diotimos editorial matter are credited as supplied in this bilingual edition.