Is it a novel, an invention? … Some will ask … But you, malady, to whom I have this work, you alone could say: It is true.
I know, you will never say this word, and perhaps for the first time you will raise your eyelashes affecting to believe the novel – It doesn’t matter; however much you do, your conscience will not think so; in the recondite fibers of your heart, there will be those that will groan with pain, … and let’s say it, for remorse.
Going back to the facts I exhibit, remembering those characters that you knew better than me, you alone can get a clear idea of my intention in going to the task of narrating the story of an unfortunate artist.
You alone can know why I have made the dedication of it in secret to you —
There are lessons that are repeated throughout life, and this which is your concern is one of them.
The publication of this work is a protest against carelessness and inconstancy.