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(All parts in English)

What are we going to do on the Claudel side in a year when time is no longer, even now, ample enough for us to formulate what we have to say about transference?

What we are saying, in some respects, may give you the impression—at least for someone less informed—that after all, everything we have said has a common axis. I think I have articulated it enough for you to have noticed that this is the essential aim of my focus this year. And to designate this point, I will try to clarify it for you as follows.

There has been much talk about transference since analysis has existed, and it is still being discussed. It is clear that it is not simply a theoretical hope; we must, after all, know what it is that we are constantly moving within, by means of which we sustain this movement. I will tell you that the axis of what I am indicating to you this year is something that can be put as follows: in what way should we consider ourselves to be interested in transference?

This kind of shifting of the question does not mean that we consider the question of what transference itself is to be resolved. But it is precisely because of the very profound differences in points of view that manifest in the analytic community, not only now but in the stages of what has been thought about transference, that divergences appear that are perceptible. I believe this shift is necessary for us to become aware of what—from the cause of these divergences, allowing us to conceive of that “without which” they have occurred—is what can also allow us to conceive that we still always hold certain that each of these points of view on transference has its truth, is usable.

The question I am asking is not that of “countertransference.” What has been placed under the heading of “countertransference” is a kind of vast catch-all of experiences that include, or seem to include, just about everything we are capable of experiencing in our profession. To take things this way is truly to render the notion henceforth utterly unusable, for it is clear that this brings all sorts of impurities into the situation: it is clear that we are human beings, and as such, are affected in a thousand ways by the presence of the patient. And that raises the very problem of what it is we are to do in a case defined by its entirely particular coordinates. To put all this under the rubric of countertransference, to add it to what should essentially be considered as our participation in the transference, is really to make any further progress impossible.

This participation of ours in transference, how can we conceive of it? Is it not this that will allow us to situate very precisely what is at the heart of the phenomenon of transference in the subject: the analyst? There is something that is perhaps suggested as a “maybe,” at least a “why not,” if you will—that it could be: that the mere necessity of responding to transference is something that concerns our being, that it is not simply the definition of a conduct to be maintained, of a handling, of something external to us, of a how to do: how to act? It could be—and if you have been hearing me for years, it is certain—that everything implied in what I am leading you toward is that what is at stake in our implication in transference is something that is of the order of what I have just called—in saying that it concerns it—our being.

And after all, even, it is so obvious that even what could be most opposed to me in analysis… I mean what is the least articulated among the ways of approaching the analytic situation, both in its beginning and in its end, in the way for which I can have the greatest aversion… it is nevertheless from that side that one day one will have heard stated, as a kind of sweeping remark—it was not about transference but about the analyst’s action—that “the analyst acts less by what he says and by what he does, than by what he is” [wordplay: être = “to be” and “being” in French].

Do not be mistaken, the way of expressing it strikes me as all the more jarring in that it says something true and in a way that immediately shuts the door, it is indeed well designed precisely to put me in a bad mood. In fact, it has been, from the start, the whole question.

What is given when the situation is defined objectively is this: that for the patient, the analyst plays his transferential role precisely to the extent that, for the patient, he is what he is not… precisely on the level of what one might call reality. This makes it possible to judge the degree, the angle of deviation of transference, precisely insofar as the phenomenon of transference will help us—to make the patient—become aware, at this angle of deviation, just how far he is from the real because of what he is producing—in short, with the help of transference—of the fictitious.

And yet there is some truth, it is certain that there is some truth in this: that the analyst intervenes by something that belongs to the order of his being, this is first and foremost a fact of experience. Since it is nevertheless something that is all the more likely, why would there be any need:
– for this clarification,
– for this correction of the subjective position,
– for this search in the training of the analyst, in this experience where we try to make him descend or ascend,
…if it were not so that something in his position might be called to function effectively, in a relationship which in no way is described by us as being able to be entirely exhausted in a manipulation, even if it is reciprocal. Likewise, everything that has developed from FREUD, after FREUD, concerning the significance of transference, involves the analyst as an existent.

And one can even divide these articulations of transference in a fairly clear way that does not exhaust the question, that covers fairly well the tendencies, if you will, these two tendencies—as it is said—of “modern psychoanalysis” whose eponyms I have given, but in a way that is not exhaustive, it is simply to pin them down:
– with Melanie KLEIN on one side,
– and Anna FREUD on the other.

I mean that the Melanie KLEIN tendency has tended to emphasize the object function of the analyst in the transferential relationship. Of course, that is not where the position begins, but it is to the extent that this tendency remained… even, if you wish, you can say that it is Melanie KLEIN who is the most faithful to Freudian thought, to the Freudian tradition… the most faithful, that she was led to articulate the transferential relationship in terms of the object function for the analyst.

Let me clarify: to the extent that from the outset of analysis, from the first steps, from the first words, the analytic relationship is thought of by Melanie KLEIN as dominated by unconscious fantasies, which are there right away:
– that which we must aim at,
– that which we are dealing with,
– that which, from the outset, I am not saying that we must, but that we can interpret,
…it is in this sense that Melanie KLEIN was led to have the analyst function—the analytic presence in the analyst, the analyst’s intention for the subject—as good or as bad object.

I am not saying that this is a necessary consequence, I even believe that it is a consequence that is necessary only as a function of the shortcomings of Kleinian thought. It is precisely to the extent that the function of fantasy—although perceived in a very compelling way—was insufficiently articulated by her: this is the great shortcoming of Kleinian articulation, it is that, even among her best associates or disciples, who certainly have striven for it more than once, the theory of fantasy has never truly come to fruition.

And yet there are many extremely usable elements: the function for example—primordial—of symbolization was articulated there, emphasized in a way that in certain respects goes as far as being very satisfying. In fact, the whole key to the correction necessitated by the theory of fantasy in Melanie KLEIN is entirely in the symbol I give you for fantasy: S◊a, which can be read as “S barred desire of a.” The S, it is a question of knowing what it is: it is not simply the noetic correlate of the object, it is within the fantasy.

Of course, that is not easy—except by making you go through, as I do, a thousand modes of approach, a thousand ways—of exercising this experience of fantasy. It is in what the approach to this experience requires that you will understand better—if you have already thought you glimpsed something, or simply if up to now it seemed obscure to you—that you will understand what I am trying to promote with this formalization. But let us continue…

The other side of the theory of transference is the one that emphasizes this—which is no less irreducible and is also more obviously true—that the analyst is interested in the transference as subject. It is obviously this side that is referenced by this emphasis that is placed—in the other way of thinking about transference—on “the therapeutic alliance.”

There is a real internal coherence between this [the therapeutic alliance] and what accompanies it: this corollary of the analyst, this way of conceiving of transference—which is the second, the one for which I have tagged Anna FREUD who indeed designates it quite well, but she is not the only one—that emphasizes the powers of the ego. It is not simply a matter of objectively recognizing [these powers], it is a matter of the place given to them in therapeutics. And there, what will they tell you?

It is that there is a whole first part of the treatment where there is not even any question of speaking, of thinking of bringing into play what properly belongs to the unconscious. All you have at first are defenses—that is the least that can be said—this for quite a long time. This is more nuanced in practice than in what is doctrinal, and it is up to you to guess it through the theory that is made of it.

It is not quite the same thing to bring to the forefront—which is certainly legitimate—the importance of defenses, and to theorize matters to the point of making the ego itself a kind of mass of inertia that can even be conceived—and this is characteristic of the school of KRIS, HARTMANN, and the others—as containing, after all let’s say it, elements for us irreducible, ultimately uninterpretable. This is where they end up, and things are clear; I am not making them say what they do not say: they say it. And one step further is that after all, it is just as well, and that one should even make this ego still more irreducible, add further defenses to it; after all, it is a conceivable way to conduct analysis. I am not at all, at this moment, even attaching a connotation of rejection to it; it is just the way it is.

What can be said in any case is that, compared to what the other side formulates, it does not seem that this side is the most Freudian, to say the least. But we have something else to do, don’t we, in our subject today, this year, than to revisit this connotation of eccentricity to which we gave, in the early years of our teaching, so much importance.

One may have seen some polemical intent in it, whereas I assure you that it is far from my thought. But what is at stake is to change the level of accommodation of thought. Things are no longer quite the same now, but these deviations once took on in the analytic community a truly fascinating value that went so far as to remove the feeling that there were any questions. Restoring a certain perspective, bringing a certain inspiration back to light, thanks to something that is also a restoration of the analytic language, I mean its structure, of what made it emerge in the first place with FREUD, the situation is different.

And the mere fact, even for those who here may feel a bit lost by the fact that we are going with full force to a point in my seminar about CLAUDEL, that they feel, nevertheless, that this has the closest connection to the question of transference, proves on its own that something has changed enough, that there is no longer any need to insist on the negative side of one tendency or another. It is not the negative sides that interest us, but the positive sides, those by which they can serve, for us as well and from where we are, as elements of construction.

So, why can what I will call, for example, in a brief word, this “Claudelian mythology” be of use to us? It is amusing, I must tell you that I myself was surprised, rereading these past days a thing I had never reread because it was published uncorrected, it was Jean WAHL who did it at the time when I was giving little open talks to all, at the Collège philosophique.

It was something about obsessive neurosis, of which I no longer remember the title, “The Myth of the Neurotic” I believe—you see we are already at the heart of the question—The Myth of the Neurotic, where, concerning the “Rat Man,” I was showing the function of mythical structures in the determinism of symptoms. As I had to correct it, I considered it impossible to do so. With time, oddly, I reread it without too much dissatisfaction and was surprised to see there—I would never have said so even under threat—that I was speaking of the humiliated father. There must have been reasons for these things. It is certainly not just because I have encountered the Û, “U” with a circumflex, that I am speaking to you about it. So, let’s resume…

What does the analysand come looking for? He comes to seek what there is to find, or more exactly, if he is searching, it is because there is something to find. And the only thing there is to truly find is the trope par excellence, the trope of tropes, what is called “his destiny.”

If we forget that there is a certain relationship between analysis and that kind of thing which is of the order of the figure, in the sense in which the word “figure” can be used to say “figure of destiny,” as one says as well “figure of rhetoric,” and that this is why analysis could not even take a single step without the emergence of myth, that means simply forgetting its origins.

Fortunately, there is a chance that, in parallel, in the evolution of analysis itself, there is a sort of shift which is the effect of an ever more insistent, ever more compelling practice, demanding in the results it must produce, thus the evolution of analysis may have risked making us forget the importance, the weight of this formulation of myths, of the myth at the origin.

Luckily, elsewhere, much interest in this has continued, so that this is a detour, something that perhaps returns to us more legitimately than we believe, perhaps we have something to do with this interest in the function of myth. I have alluded to it, more than alluded, I have articulated it for a long time, since the first work before the seminar—the seminar was already started: there were people who came to do it with me, at my home—on “The Rat Man.”

It is already the functioning, the putting into play of the structural articulation of myth as it has since been applied, and in a sustained, systematic, developed way by LÉVI-STRAUSS for example in his own seminar, already this, I have tried to show you its value, its functioning, to explain what is happening in the story of “The Rat Man.”

For those who have let things slip by or who do not know it, the structuralist articulation of myth is this something that, taking a myth as a whole—I mean the ἔπος [epos], the story, the way it is told from beginning to end—constructs a sort of model that consists solely of a series of oppositional connotations—within the myth—of the functions involved in the myth, for example in the myth of OEDIPUS, the father-son relationship, incest. I am schematizing, of course, I mean I am simplifying to tell you what it is about. One notices that the myth does not stop there, that is to say that in the following generation—if it is a myth, this term generation cannot be conceived as simply the succession of the entrance of the characters, there must always be some: when the old ones have fallen, there are young ones who come back so that it can start again.

There is a significant coherence in what happens in the constellation that follows the first constellation, and it is this coherence that interests us. Something happens that you will label as you wish, the enemy brothers, then on the other hand the function of a transcendent love that goes against the law, like incest, but clearly situated at the opposite in its function, in any case having relations that we can define by a certain number of oppositional terms with the figure of incest.

In short, I am passing over what happens at the level of ANTIGONE. It is a game in which the task is precisely to detect the rules that give it its rigor, and note that there is no other conceivable rigor than that which is established in the game itself. In short, what allows us in the function of myth, in this game in which transformations are carried out according to certain rules and which thereby prove to have a revelatory value, creator of superior configurations, of illuminating particular cases for example, in short, to demonstrate this same kind of fecundity that is that of mathematics, this is what is at stake in the elucidation of myths.

And this concerns us in the most direct way, since it cannot be that we approach the subject with which we are concerned in analysis without encountering these functions of myth. It is a fact proven by experience. In any case, it is from the very first steps of analysis that FREUD supported himself by this reference to myth, from the Traumdeutung and from the Letters to FLIESS: the myth of Oedipus.

It cannot be that we elide it, that we put it in parentheses, that we try to express everything, to articulate our whole experience in the economic mode, as it is called… the function, for example, of conflict between the most primordial tendencies up to the most radical ones, the defenses against everything topically connoted in the accent of the ego, in the thesis on narcissism the function of the “ideal ego,” of a certain “id”… it cannot be that to go in this direction and lose the other pole of reference does not represent, strictly speaking in the positive sense that it has for us, a forgetting. That does not prevent the experience that continues from being an analytic experience, it is an analytic experience that forgets its own terms.

You see that I come back, as I often do and almost always do after all, to articulate things alphabetically. This is not only for the pleasure of spelling things out, though that pleasure exists, but it allows us to pose the true questions in their raw character. The real question that arises is not:

“Is this what analysis is, where it begins, in the end: an introduction of the subject to his destiny?”

Of course not! That would place us in a demiurgic position that has never been that occupied by the analyst. But then, to remain at this very initial and basic level, there is a sort of formula that takes on its full value in naturally emerging from these ways of asking the question (which are worth as much as any other).

It was before we believed ourselves clever and strong enough to talk about I don’t know what that would be “a normal.” In fact, we never believed ourselves so strong or so clever as not to feel our pen waver at least a little each time we tackled this subject of what “a normal” is, but JONES wrote an article on it, it must be said he was not lacking in nerve, it must also be said that he managed not too badly, but one also sees the difficulty. Whatever the case, we must emphasize it, it is really only by a sleight of hand that we can even introduce any notion of normalization into analysis.

It is by a theoretical partialization, it is when we consider things from a certain angle, when we start talking, for example, about “instinctual maturation,” as if that were all that is at stake. We then indulge in these extraordinary ratiocinations bordering on moralistic preaching which are so likely to inspire distrust and withdrawal. To introduce without more ado a “normal” notion of anything whatsoever that has any relation to our praxis, when precisely what we discover there is to what extent the so-called, purported “normal” subject is exactly that which is made to inspire in us, regarding what enables its appearances, the most radical and assured suspicion, regarding its results. We must nevertheless know whether we are capable of employing the notion of normal for anything that is on the horizon of our practice.

So let us, for the moment, limit ourselves to the question.

Can we say that the effort of deciphering—something that identifies the figure of destiny, what destiny is—does the mastery we have gained over it allow us to obtain—what?—let us say the least drama possible, the inversion of the sign. If the human configuration we address is drama, tragic or not, can we be satisfied with this aim of the least drama possible?

A well-informed subject—a good warning is worth two—will manage to pull his little pin from the game. After all, why not? Modest pretension. It has never in any way corresponded, as you well know, to our experience. That is not it. But I claim that the door through which we can enter to say things that have at least some good sense, I mean that we feel we are in line with what we have to say, is this which, as always, is a point closer to us than that point where the so-called evidence is simply captured, what is called common sense where the crossroads is simply engaged, namely in the present case of destiny, of the normal.

There is still something: we have discovered, we have been taught to see, in the figure of symptoms something that relates to this figure of destiny. There is still something: it is that we did not know it before, and now we know it. And, in a way, that by this knowledge, neither can we place ourselves outside, nor allow the subject to step aside and for things to continue on as before.

This is an entirely absurd and crude schema for the reason that knowing or not knowing is essential to these figures of destiny. These developed figures that are myths do not relate to language but to the implication of the subject caught in language, and in the play of speech to complicate matters. From the subject’s relations with any signifier, figures develop where there are necessary points, irreducible points, major points, points of intersection that are those I have tried to represent in the graph, for example.

An attempt of which it is not a matter of knowing whether it is not limping, whether it is not incomplete, whether it could not perhaps be constructed or reconstructed much more harmoniously, sufficiently, by someone else, of which I want simply here to evoke the aim because this aim for a minimal structure of these four, of these eight points of intersection seems necessitated by the sole confrontation of the subject and the signifier. And it is already a great deal to be able to uphold the necessity, for this reason alone, of a Spaltung of the subject.

This figure, this graph, these identified points, allow us to reconcile with our experience of development the true function of what is trauma. Trauma is not simply what has at some moment broken in, has cracked somewhere a sort of structure imagined as total—since that is what the notion of narcissism has served for some—it is that certain events come to be situated at a certain place in this structure, they occupy it, they take on the signifying value of occupying this place in a given subject, it is this that gives the traumatic value to an event.

Hence the interest in returning to the experience of myth. Be assured, for Greek myths we are not so well placed because we have many variants—we even have quite a few—but, so to speak, they are not always good variants. I mean that we cannot guarantee the origin of these variants. To be clear, these are not contemporary variants, nor even co-local.

They are more or less allegorical, romanticized rearrangements, and of course, they are not usable in the same way as, for example, such and such a variant collected at the same time, as one finds in the collection of a myth in a North or South American population, as for example what we are able to do with material brought by a Franz BOAS, or by someone else.

And likewise, to seek out the model of what happens to the Oedipal conflict—when at some point knowledge as such enters into the myth—as well as to go entirely elsewhere, in the Shakespearian construction of Hamlet, as I did for you two years ago, and as indeed I had every right to do since from the beginning FREUD had taken things this way.

You saw that what we thought we could connote there is something that changes at another point in the structure, and in a particularly fascinating way, since it is a quite particular, aporetic point of the subject, of the relation to desire that Hamlet has promoted to reflection, to meditation, to interpretation, to the structured puzzle he represents.

We have managed fairly well to convey the specificity of this case by this difference: contrary to the father of the Oedipal murder, him, the father killed in Hamlet, it is not “he did not know” that one must say but “he knew.” Not only did he know, but this intervenes in the subjective impact that interests us, that of the central character, the only character, of HAMLET. It is a drama entirely contained within the subject HAMLET.

He was well informed that the father had been killed, and he was made to know it enough for him to know, in detail, even by whom. In saying this, I am only repeating what FREUD from the beginning said. Here is the indication of a method by which we are asked to measure what our knowledge introduces regarding the function of structure itself.

To state things broadly and in a way that allows me to identify at its root what is at stake here: at the origin of every neurosis, as FREUD says from his earliest writings, there is not what has later been interpreted as a frustration, something like that, an arrear left open in the shapeless, but a Versagung, that is to say something much closer to refusal than to frustration, which is as much internal as external, which FREUD truly placed in a position—let us connote it with this term, which at least has resonances popularized by our contemporary language—in an “existential” position.

This position does not put the normal, the possibility of Versagung [denial], then neurosis, but an original Versagung beyond which there will be the path, the fork, either of neurosis or of the normal, neither one being worth more nor less than the other in relation to this origin of the possibility of Versagung. And what the term “sagen” [to say] implied in this untranslatable Versagung is obvious, it is only possible in the register of “sagen,” I mean: in that “sagen” is not simply the operation of communication but “saying,” but the emergence as such of the signifier as it allows the subject to refuse himself.

What I can tell you is that this original, primordial refusal, this power in what it has of prejudicial with regard to all our experience, …well, it is not possible to escape from it! In other words, we analysts operate—and who does not know this?—only in the register of Versagung, and that is all the time. And it is insofar as we evade—which who does not know?—that all our experience, our technique, is structured around something that has been expressed in a completely stammering way in this idea of “non-gratification” which has never been found anywhere in FREUD. It is a matter of deepening what this Versagung specifies. This Versagung implies a progressive direction which is the one we bring into play in the analytic experience. I will start again to take up terms that I believe are usable even in the Claudelian myth itself to allow you to see how—in any case, it is a spectacular way to image it—how we are the messengers, the vehicles of this specified Versagung.

Whether it is the myth of Oedipus or what happens in “Le pain dur,” I think you no longer doubt it now. Whether you find there almost my wordplay, whether it is precisely at the moment when Louis de COÛFONTAINE and TURELURE—it is at the very moment when this sort of demand for tenderness is formulated, it is the first time this happens, it is true that it is ten minutes before he does him in—are face to face, when Louis says to him: “still, you are the father,” really doubled with this “kill the father” that the desire of the woman—of LUMÎR—suggested to him, and this is literally superimposed in a way that, I assure you, is not simply the result of a happy coincidence of French.

So what does it mean, what is represented for us there on the stage? What it means, explicitly, is that it is at that moment and by that that little Louis becomes a man. Louis de COÛFONTAINE, as he is told, will not have enough of his whole life to bear this parricide, but also from that moment he is no longer “a good-for-nothing” who fails at everything and who has his land stolen by a bunch of bad and sly people. He will become a fine ambassador, capable of every kind of skulduggery, and that does not come without correlation. He becomes the father. Not only does he become so, but when he will speak about it later, in The Humiliated Father, in Rome, he will say:

“I alone really knew him—he never wanted to hear about it!—he was not the man they think.”

Letting it be understood the treasures, no doubt, of sensitivity and experience that had accumulated under the skull of that old rascal. But he became the father, what’s more, it was his only chance to become so, and for reasons linked to the previous level of the dramaturgy, the matter was badly set up.

But what is made palpable by the construction, by the plot, is that at the same time and because of this, he is castrated. Namely, the desire of the little boy, that desire supported in such an ambiguous way that binds him to the one called LUMÎR, well, he will not have its outcome, though easy, quite simple. He has it within reach, he only has to bring her back with him to Mitidja and all will go well, they would even have many children, but something happens. First, it is not very clear whether it is that he wants it or does not want it, but one thing is certain, it is that the woman, she, does not want it.

She made him “you come down, papa,” then she goes off toward her own destiny, which is the destiny of a desire, of a true desire of a Claudelian character. For, let us say it, the interest there is in introducing you into this theater—even if it has, for this or that person, depending on their inclinations, a smell of sacristy that may please or displease, that is not the question—is that it is, all the same, a tragedy. And it is quite funny that this led that gentleman to positions that are not positions made to please us, but we have to deal with it and, if necessary, try to understand it. All the same, from end to end, from “Tête d’Or” to “Le Soulier de satin,” it is the tragedy of desire.

So the character who is, in this generation, the support: the one called LUMÎR, leaves her previous spouse, the one called Louis de COÛFONTAINE, and goes off toward her desire which is clearly said to us to be a desire for death. But by that, it is she—it is here that I ask you to pause on the variant of the myth—who gives him what, exactly? Not the mother, obviously, since it is Sygne de Coûfontaine, no, there is another one who is the wife of the father, she is in a position that is obviously not that of the mother when her name is JOCASTA. The father, as I show you, is always on the horizon of this story in a very marked way. And this incidence of desire, the one that has rehabilitated our excluded son, our unwanted child, our partial object adrift, who rehabilitates him, who reinstates him, who recreates with him the failed father, well, the result is to give him the wife of the father.

You can clearly see what I am showing you. There is here an exemplary decomposition of the function of what in the Freudian, Oedipal myth, is combined in the form of that kind of hollow, of center of suction, of dizzying point of libido that the mother represents: there is a structural decomposition.

It is late but I would still not want to leave you without indicating to you—it is time that forces us to stop where we are—what I am going to leave you with. After all, it is not a story made to surprise us so much, we who are already a bit hardened by experience, that castration, after all, is something manufactured like this: to take away someone’s desire, and in exchange, it is him that is given to someone else, on occasion to the social order.

It is SICHEL who gets the fortune: quite natural that it is she who is, in sum, to be married. Moreover, the one called LUMÎR saw it very clearly, because if you read the text, she explained it to him very well: “You have only one thing left to do now, marry your papa’s mistress.” But the important thing is this structure. And I tell you it does not seem like much because we know this, in a way, commonly, but it is rarely expressed this way. You have surely understood what I said: the subject’s desire is taken away from him and in exchange he is sent to the market where he is put up for general auction.

But is it not precisely that—and then illustrated in a very different way, this time made to awaken our dormant sensitivity—that at the beginning, at the level above, the one that perhaps can enlighten us more radically about the beginning, is it not that which happens at the level of Sygne, and there in a way well made to move us a bit more?

From her everything is taken away, it would be too much to say that it is for nothing—we’ll leave that aside—but it is also completely clear that it is to give her, in exchange for what is taken from her, to what she may most abhor. You will see, I am led to end almost in a way too spectacular by making it a game and a riddle, it is much richer than what I am placing before you here as a question mark.

You will see it articulated next time in a much deeper way, I want to leave you to dream. You will see that in the third generation, it is the same trick they want to play on PENSÉE. Only now, it does not have the same beginning, it does not have the same origin, and that is what will instruct us and even allow us to pose questions concerning the analyst.

It is the same trick they want to play on her. Naturally, here, the characters are nicer, they are all really golden, even the one who wants to play the same trick on her, namely the one called ORIAN. Certainly, it is not for her harm, nor is it for her good. And he also wants to give her to someone else she does not want, but this time the girl does not let it happen, she grabs her ORIAN in passing, probably on the sly, just long enough for him to be nothing but a soldier of the Pope, but a cold one. And then the other, well, he is a very gallant man, so he calls off the engagement.

What does that mean? I have already told you it was “a beautiful fantasy,” it has not had its last word. But it is enough for me to leave you with the question suspended of what exactly we will be able to do about certain effects that arise from the fact that we, we have some part in the subject’s destiny.

There is still something else I must touch on before leaving you, which is that it is not complete to sum up in this way the effects on the man of this becoming subject to the law.

It is not only that all that is of the heart, of oneself, is taken from him, and that he himself is given in exchange to the routine of that weave that knots generations together, it is that, precisely so that it is a weave that knots generations together, once this operation is closed, whose curious combination of a minus not doubled by a plus you see, well, he still owes something once this operation is closed.

That is where we will take up the question next time.