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-<body>
-<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Elsie Lindtner, by Karin Michaëlis Stangeland</p>
-<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
-of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
-at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you
-are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the
-country where you are located before using this eBook.
-</div>
-
-<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Elsie Lindtner</p>
-<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>A sequel to &quot;The Dangerous Age&quot;</p>
-<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Karin Michaëlis Stangeland</p>
-<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Translator: Beatrice Marshall</p>
-<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 25, 2022 [eBook #68837]</p>
-<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p>
- <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: MWS and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)</p>
-<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELSIE LINDTNER ***</div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_1"></a>[1]</span></p>
-
-<div class="border-thick">
-<div class="border-thin">
-<p class="center larger">ELSIE LINDTNER</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_2"></a>[2]</span></p>
-
-<p class="titlepage"><i>BY THE SAME AUTHOR</i></p>
-
-<p class="center">THE DANGEROUS AGE</p>
-
-<p class="center"><i>Letters and Fragments from<br />
-a Woman’s Diary</i></p>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_3"></a>[3]</span></p>
-
-<div class="box">
-
-<div class="box-top">
-
-<p class="center larger">ELSIE LINDTNER</p>
-
-<p class="center">A Sequel to “The Dangerous Age”</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="box-mid">
-
-<p class="center"><span class="smaller">BY</span><br />
-KARIN MICHAËLIS<br />
-STANGELAND</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="box-mid">
-
-<p class="titlepage"><span class="smaller"><i>AUTHORIZED TRANSLATION</i><br />
-BY</span><br />
-BEATRICE MARSHALL</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="box-bottom">
-
-<p class="center">NEW YORK<br />
-JOHN LANE COMPANY<br />
-MCMXII</p>
-
-</div>
-
-</div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_4"></a>[4]</span></p>
-
-<p class="titlepage">Copyright, 1912, by<br />
-JOHN LANE COMPANY</p>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_5"></a>[5]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="PREFACE">PREFACE</h2>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="dropcap">Readers and admirers of “The Dangerous
-Age”—and their name is
-legion—will find themselves perfectly
-at home in the following story. To them,
-Elsie Lindtner’s rambling aphorisms, her
-Bashkirtseffian revelations of soul, the remarkably
-frank letters which she delights to write
-to her friends, among whom she numbers her
-divorced husband; above all, her rather preposterous
-obsession with regard to the dangers
-of middle age, will be familiar as a twice-told
-tale.</p>
-
-<p>Doubtless many will be charmed to meet
-Elsie Lindtner again, when she has passed
-through the dreaded furnace of her “forties,”
-and is still keeping the spark of inextinguishable
-youthfulness alive within her, by gambling<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6"></a>[6]</span>
-at Monte Carlo, travelling in Greece
-with Jeanne of the flaming hair, fencing in
-London, riding in New York, and finally
-finding happiness and salvation in the adoption
-of a small offscouring of the streets.</p>
-
-<p>But for those who may have missed reading
-the little masterpiece of modern femininity
-which only a short time ago set a whole continent
-by the ears, some sort of key is, possibly,
-necessary to the enjoyment of “Elsie
-Lindtner.”</p>
-
-<p>In “The Dangerous Age” Elsie Lindtner
-writes an autobiographical letter to Joergen
-Malthe, the rising young architect, who has
-been her ardent admirer. She tells him now
-that her mother died when she was born, and
-her father was bankrupt, and lived disgraced
-in retirement, while she was left to the care
-of a servant girl.</p>
-
-<p>From her she learnt that lack of money was
-the cause of their sordid life, and from that
-moment she worshipped money.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7"></a>[7]</span></p>
-
-<p>“I sometimes buried a coin that had been
-given me,” she writes, “as a dog buries a
-bone.”</p>
-
-<p>When she went to school little Elsbeth
-Bugge was soon informed that she was “the
-prettiest girl in the school”; that a pretty face
-was worth a fortune.</p>
-
-<p>“From that moment I entered upon the
-accursed cult of my person which absorbed
-the rest of my childhood and all my first
-youth.... I avoided the sun lest I should
-get freckles; I collected rain water for washing;
-I slept with gloves, and though I adored
-sweets, I refrained from eating them on account
-of my teeth. I spent hours brushing
-my hair.”</p>
-
-<p>One day when she came home she found
-the only big mirror in the house had been
-transferred from her father’s room and hung
-in her own.</p>
-
-<p>“I made myself quite ill with excitement,
-and the maid had to put me to bed. But<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a>[8]</span>
-later on, when the house was quiet, I got up
-and lit my lamp. I spent hours gazing at
-myself in the glass. There I sat till the sun
-rose.”</p>
-
-<p>Then follows an account of how this child,
-scarcely in her teens, positively set her cap
-at a rich, elderly widower, because he had a
-fine house.</p>
-
-<p>“My brain reeled as I said to myself, ‘Some
-day I will live in that house as wife of the
-Chief Magistrate.’”</p>
-
-<p>The precociousness of Marie Bashkirtseff
-who fell in love with a duke when she ought
-to have been playing with her dolls, pales into
-insignificance beside this confession.</p>
-
-<p>Elsie left school and went back to Denmark
-engaged to Herr von Brincken, the
-Chief Magistrate, but he had heart disease
-and she did not marry him. Instead she married
-Richard Lindtner, a wealthy Dane, and
-made her home with him in the Old Market
-Place at Copenhagen, where for twenty-two<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>[9]</span>
-years she was, to outward appearances, a
-happy and contented wife.</p>
-
-<p>“I allowed my senses to be inflamed while
-my mind remained cold and my heart contracted
-with disgust. I consciously profaned
-the sacred words of love by applying them to
-a man whom I chose for his money. Meanwhile,
-I developed into the frivolous society
-woman everybody took me to be. Every
-woman wears the mask which best suits her
-purpose. My mask was my smile....”</p>
-
-<p>It is only in this book, the second instalment
-of Elsie Lindtner’s fragmentary diary
-and correspondence, that she gives us a reason
-for leaving her husband after twenty-two
-years of married life, the wish that he should
-have children. In “The Dangerous Age”
-she hints at other and various reasons. To
-her friend and cousin, Lili Rothe, the perfect
-wife and mother of “lanky daughters,” who
-could love another man passionately without
-ceasing to love her husband, she writes, when<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a>[10]</span>
-announcing her divorce, “There is no special
-reason ... none at least that is explicable to
-the world. As far as I know Richard has no
-entanglements, and I have no lover. There
-is no shadow of a scandal connected with our
-separation beyond that which must inevitably
-arise when two middle-aged partners throw
-down their cards in the middle of a rubber....
-My real reason is so simple and clear
-that few will be content to accept it.... You
-know that Richard and I have got on as well
-as two people of opposite sex can do. There
-has never been an angry word between us.
-But one day the impulse—or whatever you
-like to call it—took possession of me that
-I must live alone—quite alone, and all to
-myself. Call it an absurd idea ... call it
-hysteria—which, perhaps, it is—I must get
-right away from everybody and everything.
-Joergen Malthe has planned and built a little
-villa for me in the belief that it was for some
-one else. The house is on an island, the name<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11"></a>[11]</span>
-of which I will keep to myself for the
-present.”</p>
-
-<p>In her self-communings, however, she never
-disguises the fact that escape from boredom
-was the main motive of her returning to the
-White Villa.</p>
-
-<p>“Richard is still travelling, and entertains
-me scrupulously with accounts of the sights
-he sees and his lonely nights.... As in
-the past, he bores me with his interminable
-descriptions, and his whole middle-class
-outlook....”</p>
-
-<p>Richard’s neatness and tidy ways bored her;
-his correctness in the convenances; even his
-way of eating, and “to watch him eat was a
-daily torture.”</p>
-
-<p>“Sundays were no better in the Old Market
-Place. There I had Richard from morning
-till night. To be bored alone is bad; to be
-bored in the society of one other person is
-much worse. To think that Richard never
-noticed it! His incessant talk reminded me<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a>[12]</span>
-of a mill-wheel, and I felt as though all the
-flour were blowing into my eyes.”</p>
-
-<p>In another place she says: “I am now sure
-that even if the difference in our own age did
-not exist, I could never marry Malthe....
-I could do foolish, even mean things for the
-sake of the one man I loved with all my heart....
-But set up a home with Joergen Malthe—never!”</p>
-
-<p>The terrible part of home-life is that every
-piece of furniture in the house forms a link in
-the chain which binds two married people
-long after love has died out—if indeed it ever
-existed. Two human beings—who differ as
-much as two human beings always must do—are
-forced to adopt the same tastes, the same
-outlook. The home is built upon this incessant
-conflict.</p>
-
-<p>“How often Richard and I gave way to
-each other with a consideration masking an
-annoyance that rankled more than a violent
-quarrel.... What a profound contempt I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13"></a>[13]</span>
-felt for his tastes and, without saying so, how
-he disapproved of mine. No, his home was
-not mine, although we lived in it like an ideal
-couple. My person for his money—that was
-the bargain crudely but truthfully expressed.”</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>Even in her White Villa, on its island with
-a forest of her very own, Elsie Lindtner, to
-her intense disappointment, was bored. She
-lived there with two servants, Torp, the cook
-(a delightful figure), who believed in spooks,
-and whose teeth chattered when she told ghost
-stories; and Jeanne, the mysterious young
-housemaid with “amber eyes” and hair that
-glowed like red fungi against the snow, who
-wore silk stockings, and won Elsie’s heart by
-admiring and dressing Elsie’s own wonderful
-hair. Jeanne became the salient interest in
-Elsie’s hermit life on the island, and was promoted
-to the intimacy of companion and confidante.
-It was Jeanne who arranged the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14"></a>[14]</span>
-flowers artistically with her “long, pointed
-fingers,” and picked up her skirts disdainfully
-when she passed the flirtatious gardener, to
-whose fascinations Torp, the cook, became a
-hapless prey. Torp “made herself thin in
-collecting fat chickens for him,” and he played
-cards with her in the basement kitchen.</p>
-
-<p>Jeanne rowed hard in the little white boat
-across the lake to catch the last post with
-Elsie’s fatal invitation to Malthe. “I will
-never part with Jeanne,” Elsie said as she
-watched her. Then she wandered at random
-in the woods and fields, and scarcely seemed
-to feel the ground under her feet. The flowers
-smelt so sweet, and she was so deeply
-moved.</p>
-
-<p>“How can I sleep? I feel I must stay
-awake until my letter is in his hands....
-Now it is speeding to him through the quiet
-night. The letter yearns towards him as I do
-myself.... I am young again, yes, young,
-young! How blue the night is.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15"></a>[15]</span></p>
-
-<p>But she could not, alas, young as she felt,
-get into the white embroidered muslin which
-used to become her so well, and Malthe’s first
-glance told her all.</p>
-
-<p>“He cast down his eyes so that he might not
-hurt me again.” One reads of tears of blood.
-“... During the few hours he spent in my
-house I think we smiled ‘smiles of blood.’”</p>
-
-<p>Malthe left the White Villa the same night,
-and said at parting, “I feel like the worst of
-criminals.”</p>
-
-<p>After this shattering blow Elsie in her despair
-craved for even the boring society of the
-husband she had deserted. She was, to use
-her own expression, “greedy of Richard’s
-caresses,” and invited him, too, to visit her on
-her island. But Richard declined altogether.
-He had just become engaged to a girl, “a
-mere chit of nineteen.”</p>
-
-<p>“He has made a fool of me! I am done
-for. Nothing is left to me but to efface myself
-as soon as possible.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16"></a>[16]</span></p>
-
-<p>Elsie Lindtner’s method of effacing herself
-for the second time was to quit her desert
-island, and take a Cook’s tour round the world
-with Jeanne.</p>
-
-<p>Thus it happens that we renew acquaintance
-with her breaking the bank at Monte
-Carlo in the first pages of this book to which
-she has given her own name, though it might
-just as appropriately have been entitled “More
-Dangerous Age Reflections.” For here,
-again, the “transition” is the absorbing topic
-of Elsie Lindtner’s thoughts and correspondence;
-one might almost say it is “the bee in
-her bonnet.” Even when she has emerged
-triumphantly, as she boasts afterwards, from
-its perils, and has found a new source of interest
-and happiness in the street arab whom
-she has adopted, she seems unable to keep the
-subject out of her conversation and letters.
-She goes so far as to warn strangers of the
-“stealthy footsteps of the approaching years,”
-and disputes with her dear friend, the extraordinary<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17"></a>[17]</span>
-widow, Magna Wellmann, which of
-them came through those years, “when we are
-all more or less mad,” with the greatest <i>éclat</i>.</p>
-
-<p>In “Elsie Lindtner” we miss the <i>mise en
-scène</i> of the White Villa on the island, with
-its forest and lake, for when Elsie re-visits it
-with Kelly, it hardly seems the same place,
-with no Torp and no gardener.... We miss,
-too, the first, fine, careless rapture of feminine
-revolt which characterises “The Dangerous
-Age,” and the Jeanne of these pages is not so
-vivid as the Jeanne of the former book. In
-compensation we have more of Magna, and
-we have Lili Rothe’s love-letters—which were
-addressed but never sent to the man she loved.
-Also, as in the previous volume, we have
-Elsie Lindtner’s letters, with their strange,
-pathetic eloquence, marvellously revealing a
-woman’s complicated soul. Their literary
-merit and their value as a picture of life cannot
-fail to impress all readers.</p>
-
-<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Beatrice Marshall.</span></p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18"></a>[18]</span></p>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19"></a>[19]</span></p>
-
-<div class="border-thick">
-<div class="border-thin">
-<p class="center larger">ELSIE LINDTNER</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20"></a>[20]</span></p>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a>[21]</span></p>
-
-<h1><i>Elsie Lindtner</i></h1>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Monte Carlo.</span></p>
-
-<p class="dropcap"><span class="smcap">Dear Richard</span>,</p>
-
-<p>Thank you for the money, and forgive
-my audacious telegram. I am
-directing this letter to your office, as it has
-nothing to do with domestic affairs.</p>
-
-<p>You really must help me. We, Jeanne and
-I, are stranded here like a pair of adventuresses,
-and don’t know what to do. I have
-wired to my lawyer, who has simply replied
-with an unconditional “No.” The creature
-seems to think he has the right to manage my
-fortune as well as myself. Naturally, I find
-it far from pleasant to be obliged to apply to
-you, but you are the only person I can think
-of to whom I can turn without risking a
-refusal.</p>
-
-<p>I have been gambling, winning and losing,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22"></a>[22]</span>
-finally losing. I am overdrawn, and the last
-draft which Riise had the grace to send me is
-gone.</p>
-
-<p>Your money kept me going for two hours,
-but now that is gone, too. I have pawned the
-few valuables I possessed, but I am determined
-to win everything back. So please
-don’t give me good advice; instead, go and
-talk to Riise. Explain to him that it is
-urgent, and I <i>must</i> have the money. I am
-quite indifferent as to what becomes of the
-capital. I don’t mind paying dearly for this
-spree—or whatever you like to call it—and
-being poor afterwards in consequence. If the
-matter goes awry, you’ll hear nothing more of
-Elsie Lindtner. I shall neither take poison
-nor shoot myself. There is a more comfortable
-way out of it. A Brazilian, whom I
-don’t like, has lent me a big sum of money.
-If I borrow any more of him, it’ll have to
-come to a bargain. Make Riise sell the stock,
-even at a heavy loss, I must have money.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23"></a>[23]</span>
-Meanwhile send me all you can spare at the
-moment by cheque. I hope you continue to
-be as happy as ever.</p>
-
-<p>With many thanks in advance,</p>
-
-<p class="center">Yours,</p>
-
-<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Elsie</span>.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>[24]</span></p>
-
-<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Monte Carlo.</span></p>
-
-<p class="dropcap"><span class="smcap">Dear Richard</span>,</p>
-
-<p>A friend in need is a friend indeed.
-Accept my thanks for your prompt
-and ready help. All the same, I could not
-wait till it came, and borrowed again from the
-Brazilian. His obnoxious money has brought
-me luck. If it had been the other way about—well,
-never mind. It was a mad, desperate
-plunge on my part. Now that it is over I
-cannot understand how I could nerve myself
-for it. But I have won. The night before
-last I raked in two hundred and fifty thousand
-francs besides all that I had lost. After that
-I laid down to sleep. Your money has just
-arrived. I shall send it back at once with
-what you sent me before, and the amount I
-have wrung out of Riise. Jeanne has started
-packing.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>[25]</span></p>
-
-<p>To-morrow we leave here. We are going
-for Jeanne’s sake. She has taken my gambling
-too much to heart.</p>
-
-<p>Now, if you possibly can, forget this little
-episode. I wasn’t completely myself. It’s all
-over, and too late to repent. We intend to
-spend the rest of the winter in Tangiers and
-Cairo, and probably in Helvan. Jeanne
-wants to go to India, and I have no objection
-so long as the journey is not too difficult. At
-all events, we shall spend a few weeks in Paris,
-just to fit ourselves out stylishly.</p>
-
-<p>It is positively disgraceful of me that I
-have forgotten to congratulate you on the
-birth of your son and heir. How I should
-like to see your paternal countenance—you
-might send me a photograph of yourself with
-the Crown Prince, and now, farewell, till circumstances
-throw us together again.</p>
-
-<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Elsie.</span></p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26"></a>[26]</span></p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>How long can things go on like this? We
-wander hither and thither, and have no abiding
-place, as if we were fugitives condemned
-to be eternally on the move. And we feign
-enjoyment of this perpetual unsettlement.
-Jeanne has long ago seen through the pitiable
-farce, but she continues to play her part loyally
-out of gratitude for the small kindness I
-have shown her. We get on quite well together.
-Jeanne reads in my face when it is
-best to speak, and when to be silent.</p>
-
-<p>She is happiest on shore with terra firma
-beneath her feet, while I like best the gliding
-days and nights on board ship; the sky above,
-the sea beneath me, my brain vacant, and all
-my senses lulled to sleep. It reminds me of
-the early days on my solitary island, when
-every trifling incident was an affair of huge
-importance. The flight of a seagull, the top
-of a mast above the horizon—a ship sailing
-by in the night. We spend the day on our
-deck chairs, half dozing over a book, or conversing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>[27]</span>
-in a company voice; but at night we
-throw ulsters over our nightgowns and pace
-the deck, our natures expanding like flowers
-which only shed their perfume after dark.</p>
-
-<p>I have become very fond of Jeanne. Her
-poor, withered heart, too early developed, too
-soon faded, awakes a certain gentle compassion
-within me. All my opinions are accepted
-by her eagerly as golden rules for the
-ordering of life. If only I could forget! existence
-might be bearable. But I cannot forget.
-The glance which showed me the corpse
-of his love follows me continually everywhere.
-The humiliation in that glance! I don’t love
-him, and I don’t hate him. I am getting too
-lukewarm to hate. But contempt rankles—Jeanne
-is careful to say nothing that can hurt
-me, and yet sometimes she hurts me by being
-too tactfully silent! I don’t want to be pitied,
-so we while away hours over our toilette.</p>
-
-<p>How long can it go on?</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28"></a>[28]</span></p>
-
-<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Athens.</span></p>
-
-<p>Here it is as nice as anywhere else. I
-struggle bravely to let myself be enchanted
-with Greece’s past, but in reality I care as
-little about it as I care for the potshares on the
-Keramaikos.</p>
-
-<p>We are attending Professor Dörpfeld’s
-lectures on “The Acropolis,” and I am
-more interested in the way the man says
-things than in concentrating my mind on
-what he says. He has made himself so thoroughly
-familiar with the plastic beauty of the
-world, that finally the invisible words that fall
-from his lips seem to have become plastic,
-too. I take no interest in why the pillars are
-thickest in the middle. It is the olive groves,
-and the lights and shadows flitting over
-Athens, that charm and engross me.</p>
-
-<p>Jeanne takes it all in like a gaping-mouthed
-schoolgirl; she studies the history of art in the
-hotel. I have given her leave to go on an<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29"></a>[29]</span>
-excavating expedition, but without me. I
-strongly object to riding through snow up to
-my waist, sleeping in tents on the bare ground,
-and living on mutton and canned goods. My
-laziness is growing.</p>
-
-<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Luxor.</span></p>
-
-<p>I am uneasy about Jeanne. She is strung
-up to a state of enthusiasm which alienates
-me. Is it travelling that has developed her,
-or are her hitherto dormant abilities awakening?
-We are simply travelling to kill time,
-but she takes everything with the same tremendous
-seriousness as that day in Berlin
-when she first heard Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony.
-She regards me as if it were long
-ago an accepted fact that we each exist for
-ourselves, alone in our separate worlds. She
-skips half the meals to roam about among the
-temples. To-night we sat on top of the great
-pylon and watched the sun go down. For
-me it was just like a beautiful decorative<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30"></a>[30]</span>
-effect at the theatre. I couldn’t help thinking
-of “Aïda.” She wouldn’t come in when I
-did, and when I suggested that the night air
-was chilly she answered quite snappishly, “I
-wish to see the moon illumine the classic sea.”
-Of course, I left her alone, but I couldn’t
-sleep, and at about midnight I heard her come
-back. My door was open, and I called her
-in. She sat down on the end of my bed and
-was crying. What can be the matter with
-her?</p>
-
-<p>I am not going to torment her with questions.
-She shall be free to come and go as
-she chooses—so long as she spares me the
-paeans of an enthusiasm which I cannot share.
-It is all very well here but I prefer myself in
-the Paris boulevards, Unter den Linden, and
-Bond Street. I feel so poverty-stricken when
-I see others full of emotional <i>élan</i>.</p>
-
-<p>Yes, that is it. That is why I am nervous
-about Jeanne’s enthusiasm for art. She reminds
-me of old days when Malthe, in my<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31"></a>[31]</span>
-yellow room looking over the market-place,
-told me of his travels, and I deluded myself
-into imagining I understood what he was
-talking about....</p>
-
-<p>And so this phase has come to an end, too!
-I had quite thought that Jeanne had sold herself
-to me for life. But it was not to be, after
-all. I might have prevented it. Perhaps
-she was waiting for a word from me. Still,
-it is best that we should part. Let her put
-her abilities to the test, by all means. She
-will soon have had enough of work, and I
-am in a position of being able to wait. Now
-I shall go to America, and if I find that bores
-me, too, God only knows if I shan’t give in
-and accept the Brazilian. His method of
-courtship, at least, is as systematic as a persecution.
-And at bottom I am flattered, that
-still—<i>still</i>; but for how much longer? I am
-deemed desirable. I ask myself in moments
-of doubt whether I should be even that, without
-the aid of Poiret and Worth.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32"></a>[32]</span></p>
-
-<p class="dropcap"><span class="smcap">Dear Jeanne</span>,—Little travelling companion.</p>
-
-<p>So our paths separate—temporarily,
-or for ever—neither of us can say which.
-But I feel that it is best to part, and I am not
-at all sad or hurt. Two years is a good long
-time for two people to have lived together,
-and we have both derived some profit from
-those years. For me the profit lies also in
-their coming to an end, for you that you have
-found life worth living. As I said before, I
-strongly advise you to go through the whole
-training, which will prove whether you have
-creative talent, or your art is merely suited to
-commercial purposes. I shouldn’t be surprised,
-indeed, if you became a designer of
-buildings—architect is, I suppose, too ambitious
-a word to apply to a woman—and as
-Greek and Egyptian temples are likely to be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33"></a>[33]</span>
-your speciality, you are hardly destined to be
-popular.</p>
-
-<p>Now we have discussed all the practical
-points. I think you know that I wish you
-absolutely to enjoy your time in Paris. Enjoy
-it to the full, but don’t commit any irrevocable
-follies!</p>
-
-<p>You will get these lines from London,
-where I am amusing myself by a short obesity
-cure. Imagine us fencing, like small children
-in black satin knickerbockers and white
-sweaters! Several ladies from Court take
-part in the “class.” Afterwards we have a
-brisk but delightful hip-massage, and that
-alone makes it worth the trouble. Directly I
-am satisfied with the slimness of my exterior,
-I start for New York. You were never very
-happy over there, but for me that city has a
-peculiar fascination. I don’t know myself
-what it consists in.</p>
-
-<p>I beg you, from my heart, Jeanne, that you
-will always consider me as a friend to whom<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a>[34]</span>
-you can comfortably tell everything, and come
-to for sympathy and advice, whether in sorrow
-or happiness. You will, Jeanne, won’t
-you? and don’t neglect your appearance.
-Work may absorb you for a time, but that
-kind of thing is a transitory craze in a woman
-of your disposition. Your heritage is your
-appearance, remember.</p>
-
-<p>Good-bye for the present, and “good luck,”
-little travelling companion.</p>
-
-<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Elsie Lindtner.</span></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35"></a>[35]</span></p>
-
-<p class="dropcap"><span class="smcap">Dearest Jeanne</span>,</p>
-
-<p>Your last letter—to put it mildly—is
-very exaggerated. Frankly, it
-is positively hysterical. Why should you
-harp to me on your “guilt,” or your everlasting
-gratitude, on your privilege of making
-some sacrifice for me. I don’t understand a
-word of the whole rigmarole, not a single
-word. I don’t see the point of it in the least.
-Here I am perfectly content in my own solitary
-way, which is not a bit misanthropic, and
-my own desire is that you should feel content,
-too. Don’t you like Paris? You really
-needn’t be afraid to say so—or is it the work
-that you are sick of? If so, it is only what
-I have long expected.</p>
-
-<p>According to my opinion, you belong to
-those human luxuries whose presence in the
-world are quite superfluous, but who have a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36"></a>[36]</span>
-certain genius through their mere existence
-alone of making life more tolerable for others.
-Your place is either this, or in the midst of
-a <i>grande passion</i> (heaven forbid) in which
-you would screw yourself into a bread pellet,
-to be held in some one else’s mouth. I can
-see you like <i>The Princess on the Pea</i>, scorning
-everything, or I can see you on your knees
-scouring steps for the man you love.</p>
-
-<p>But I should like to see the man you were
-able to love.</p>
-
-<p>Perhaps you are in love? That idea has
-suddenly occurred to me, though it seems
-highly improbable. Now, however, that I
-have read through your last nonsensical letter
-again, I believe that I have really hit on the
-right solution.</p>
-
-<p>You are in love, and out of feelings of mistaken
-gratitude, you do not like to tell me.
-Jeanne, Jeanne! Will you for my sake be
-an old maid? It is very sweet of you, but a
-little too much to expect. Besides, it is quite<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37"></a>[37]</span>
-unnecessary. I am not going to lie, and pretend
-that it will not cost me something to give
-up my little fairy-tale princess with the beautiful
-hands. Not only my hair, but my
-shamefully overcultivated taste is missing
-you, with whom I was able to exchange ideas.
-An empty place on my balcony that will never
-be filled again till the aforesaid maiden sits
-in it with the sunlight shining on her and on
-the river, and on the town which is the town
-of all others.</p>
-
-<p>But, Jeanne, our paths have diverged, and
-they can never again unite. You are not in
-the least fit to be in my company. You don’t
-want me, but life, and joyousness. May you
-find it, no matter whether, like me, you sell
-yourself, and are shut up in a golden cage,
-whether you live your own fairy-tale, and
-realise the mirage of your dreams, or whether
-you develop into an artist. Only with me
-you would have no peace.</p>
-
-<p>I noticed how you beat your wings when<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38"></a>[38]</span>
-we were together, how you pined and tortured
-yourself to adopt the pose that pleased
-me. How for my sake you acted a part.</p>
-
-<p>Instead of writing sheets, I send you these
-lines, and entreat you to answer by telegram
-so that you may tell me in the fewest possible
-words what has happened to you.</p>
-
-<p>I am, God knows, so curious that I should
-like to send you a wire a yard long. But I
-must rule my spirit so as to take this modern
-city of New York.</p>
-
-<p class="center">Your</p>
-
-<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Elsie</span>.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39"></a>[39]</span></p>
-
-<p class="dropcap"><span class="smcap">Jeanne, Jeanne, Jeanne!</span></p>
-
-<p>Only that! Thank God, only that.
-How infinitely comforting a telegram
-with its few concise words can be.</p>
-
-<p>Don’t let this matter worry you further.
-Of course, I’ll take the child to my heart; or
-still better, I will adopt the child.</p>
-
-<p>After all, it’s much the same to me whether
-I have a camera, cacti, or a little child for a
-hobby. You needn’t be afraid that I shall
-plant it in a flower-pot like a cutting, or pin
-it into my lace collection. It shall, I promise
-you, be properly cared for, not by me, but
-through me. I will engage the best nurse
-money can procure. If you like, too, I will
-sail with the nurse over the whole width of
-the Atlantic to receive the little eel in person.
-The more I think it over, the more excellent
-the plan seems to me. You will have no<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40"></a>[40]</span>
-bother, will not be interrupted in your career,
-and I shall add to the long list of my crazes
-one more item. To prevent there being any
-sort of misunderstanding about it, I am perfectly
-confident that providing for the little
-legacy will be a source of new enjoyment to
-me.</p>
-
-<p>I only make one condition, and that is,
-if the affair becomes too complete I may
-be allowed to put “our child” out to
-nurse.</p>
-
-<p>It is to be hoped that the father has not won
-a fraction of your heart. I can well imagine
-that he is some young artist whom you have
-met at the class. He gazed at your hair till
-he was sick, which is not at all to be wondered
-at, and you forgot momentarily that you had
-long ago abjured all folly.</p>
-
-<p>Write me more details as to whether you
-approve; when “it” is expected, and so on.
-I needn’t advise you, of course, to leave Paris
-before the change in your exterior attracts<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41"></a>[41]</span>
-notice. I am thinking a great deal of you,
-Jeanne, little Jeanne.</p>
-
-<p class="center">Your</p>
-
-<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Elsie</span>.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42"></a>[42]</span></p>
-
-<p class="dropcap"><span class="smcap">Dear Magna Wellmann</span>,</p>
-
-<p>And I am the woman who thought
-you had forgotten me, or that you
-still bore me a grudge for that letter which
-I wrote you four—no, it is already five—years
-ago.</p>
-
-<p>Now I sit here and ponder whether the
-greatest transformation has been worked in
-you, or in me. You, at all events, are not the
-same, and I believe that I am not. But at
-our age, one is long past growing and developing.</p>
-
-<p>You who of old were like a dry autumn
-leaf whirled before the wind, have proved
-yourself all at once to have a strength and
-courage which make me ashamed. Who has
-lulled your senses so to rest? The one
-“great” love? No, I will not ask questions,
-though a whole host of them pulsate within<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43"></a>[43]</span>
-me. And you are not a bit afraid? You
-speak of it as if it were a mere frolic. You
-wonderful human creature, Magna. Other
-women suffer intolerably during the nine
-months of pregnancy, and grow irritable and
-ugly. But you are blooming as if it were the
-most perfectly natural condition to be in.
-What a contrast to your ordinary mood and
-your old escapades. You are not in the least
-afraid to bring a child into the world at your
-age; and in such circumstances every line of
-your letter breathes freshness and health, and
-there is no disguising it.</p>
-
-<p>Do you know, your letter awoke in me the
-first longing for Denmark since I packed my
-boxes and went out into the wide world.</p>
-
-<p>I have become an alien. Five years is not
-such a very long time, though long enough to
-render a person countryless. Richard in his
-pleasant way, keeps me <i>au courant</i> with what
-he calls the “main movements” of our circle,
-so I know that you have been banned and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44"></a>[44]</span>
-ostracised. I cannot say that I think it is altogether
-undeserved. You know that I insist
-on good form outwardly as well as inwardly,
-and, really, Magna, I cannot picture myself
-behaving as you have done, any more than
-I can picture myself going out in society in
-a nightdress with my hair hanging down in a
-pigtail. But, of course, it is your affair.</p>
-
-<p>For the most part I take no interest in what
-goes on at home. It reminds me too much
-of looking at a drop of water through a microscope.
-If, by any chance, I come across a
-Danish newspaper, I read nothing but the
-obituaries, and even they do not rouse a
-shadow of emotion in my soul.</p>
-
-<p>Yet there are fates which, out of curiosity
-or fellow-feeling, appeal to me. And yours is
-one of them. When Richard wrote, “Frau
-Wellmann’s latest makes her ‘impossible’ in
-this part of the world,” I could not help
-smiling. You made yourself impossible years
-ago. It is true, Professor Wellmann’s name<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45"></a>[45]</span>
-and social status have sheltered and held a
-restraining hand over you, that is to say, up
-till now.</p>
-
-<p>But now it has come to an actual scandal.
-You parade your shame on the housetops of
-Copenhagen, instead of going away and hushing
-it up.</p>
-
-<p>By the bye, how many small <i>affairs</i> were
-there not year after year <i>hushed up</i> in our
-set? The dear ladies even were not afraid
-to whisper about them to each other. And
-you, you even, delight in having a child of
-the peculiar kind that we call illegitimate.
-Magna, Magna! I am not going to suppose
-that behind it all is a spark of malicious joy
-in challenging the <i>crême de la crême</i>. That
-would be a poor joke. Neither can I believe
-that your motive has anything to do
-with <i>love</i> for the father of your illegitimate
-child.</p>
-
-<p>You write so beautifully about the feeling
-that life is growing within you. In this respect,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46"></a>[46]</span>
-I am a stranger, and absolutely blind.
-I have never felt the smallest sensation of
-longing to feel that life is growing within
-me. Perhaps I am even incapable of understanding
-your expression. Yet it touches me.</p>
-
-<p>You were entering on a period of severe
-trial for yourself and for the children, and
-the time of trial will not end with your confinement.
-There will most certainly have to
-be an explanation, and preferably an explanation
-that will bring as little injury as possible
-to the children. Have you thought of
-this? Don’t put off the inevitable too long,
-or others may be before you. The children
-cannot—it would be terrible if they could—understand
-the whole, so the question is how
-to invent a fable which will best lull their
-reflection.</p>
-
-<p>Many will judge you because you have
-done what is not customary and defied the
-usages of society; others will judge you out
-of envy, because they have not had the courage<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47"></a>[47]</span>
-to do it themselves. Every one who has refrained
-through fear of disgrace and shame,
-will hurl a stone at you. Likewise the childless
-women. If I were still in the Old Market
-Place, I should flout you, too. Still, there
-are a whole lot of free-thinking human
-creatures who will judge you not on account
-of the child, but for the <i>children’s</i> sake. You
-may shrug your shoulders at the others, but
-you can’t get away from the shadow which
-you are casting on the children.</p>
-
-<p>Well, now that I have discoursed to you in
-this extremely reasonable manner, I may with
-a clear conscience extend my hands across the
-ocean and say, “Good luck, Magna.”</p>
-
-<p>When the atmosphere becomes too hot to
-hold you, then take refuge with me. I live
-here, fourteen storeys high, on Riverside
-Drive. My name is on the door in characters
-as small as those on a postage stamp.
-It is the fashion here, and the letters are delivered
-to the porter. The house is magnificently<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48"></a>[48]</span>
-arranged, and is as light as a studio.
-I steadily believe that I shall rest my bones
-in some peaceful burial ground here. And
-as it’s the custom to adorn and paint the dead
-till they look twenty or thirty years younger
-than when they were alive, you will comprehend
-how that appeals to the vanity of one
-who has warded off the burden of age. I
-should just like to know how any woman
-devoid of vanity could exist in this city of
-light and sunshine. I belong to two or three
-clubs where ladies of seventy and eighty
-congregate, with porcelain complexions,
-powdered coiffures, and Gainsborough hats.
-Don’t imagine for a moment that they
-are ludicrous. They possess a dignity and joy
-in existence which makes me think that
-they must pass their nights in a bath of
-youth.</p>
-
-<p>There is a glamour of festivity hanging
-over this place. Not in the slums; but there
-of course, you needn’t go. New York’s poor<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49"></a>[49]</span>
-have a totally different aspect and manner of
-behaviour from the poor of European cities,
-where they rub against travellers with their
-sores and crutches. In all these years I have
-only seen two human beings who didn’t belong
-to Fifth Avenue. An Italian and his wife
-lay and sunned themselves on the curb and
-ate dirty vegetables out of a rusty tin. No
-one sent them off, but the whole traffic of the
-street gave them a wide berth, as if they had
-been a pair of plague-stricken patients.</p>
-
-<p>I ride on horseback every day till I am
-dead tired, in a salmon-coloured habit and a
-slouch hat over my eyebrows. My master—a
-pitiful wreck of a once brilliant Scottish
-nobleman—at first objected to my riding <i>en
-cavalier</i>. But as I remained obstinate, he
-left me to my fate till one fine day he was
-seized with admiration for my mastery of the
-horse, and now we are good friends. We
-ride alternately in Central Park, which is indescribably
-lovely when all the beds are<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50"></a>[50]</span>
-aglow with rhododendrons in bloom, and in
-New Jersey, which is still unspoilt Nature.
-Sundays, as a rule, we form quite a cavalcade,
-and then we amuse ourselves like children.
-These people who are outwardly stiff and reserved,
-and inwardly do not overburden their
-souls with super-culture, have a wholly remarkable
-and infectious capacity for sucking
-honey out of the most trifling banalities of
-existence. We chat about the sun, moon and
-stars, about our horses, our ravenous appetites,
-and the recently discovered Rembrandt, and
-never about our neighbours. We never backbite.</p>
-
-<p>At the end of such a day, when I am resting
-after my bath, I seem to myself like a being
-with life all before me.</p>
-
-<p>In truth, I have found congenial calm. I
-play bridge through the long winter mornings
-at the Astor Hotel Club, or go to lectures
-on psychology, followed by luxurious luncheons
-during which Madame Homer and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51"></a>[51]</span>
-Signor Caruso sing to us, not in the intervals,
-but while we eat!</p>
-
-<p>The waiters go round pouring out coffee
-the whole time, while we sit in a rosy twilight.
-Every one pays every one else little
-choice and sincerely-meant compliments.
-Call it an empty life, if you like, and I won’t
-deny that it is.</p>
-
-<p>You ask what I have been doing since I
-took flight from my now desolate and dilapidated
-villa. If I only knew myself I would
-tell you. It all seems so long ago I travelled
-about with Jeanne, my young housemate and
-friend, and we really did nothing but kill
-time.</p>
-
-<p>Rumours of my Monte Carlo period have
-no doubt penetrated to Denmark. I admit
-it was an ugly experience. Never in all my
-life had I imagined that I could become the
-prey of this passion, but I caught the fever
-so badly that I conducted myself as shamelessly
-as the most hardened professional gamblers.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a>[52]</span>
-I certainly believe that during those
-days I was scarcely responsible. If the tide
-of fortune had not turned I should have gambled
-away every farthing I possess. But
-things went so well that I am living to-day on
-my winnings, without touching my dividends.</p>
-
-<p>Jeanne is still in Paris, where she has been
-for the last two years. She intends to qualify
-for some industrial art, for she has an indisputable
-and highly original talent. Lately I
-have had a very significant letter from her,
-but I may not divulge its contents. If things
-turn out, as at present seems likely, my life
-may undergo a complete re-arrangement.</p>
-
-<p>I must tell you about my latest craze. I
-have had quite a dozen little crazes in this one
-year alone. It is a splendid distraction.
-Well, my latest is collecting dwarf cacti and
-Japanese dwarf trees, which you hardly ever
-see in Denmark. They are only a few inches
-high, and incredibly old. You buy them in
-fat boxes, miniature imitations of Japanese<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53"></a>[53]</span>
-gardens with rivers, bridges, and porcelain
-cupolas and tea-houses. They are entrancing.
-Fortunately, a gardener tends them; otherwise
-they would die of neglect. The care of
-plants is no more in my line than the care
-of children, or any other live things. If I
-had the gift I should have a choice little
-aquarium with goldfishes and electric light
-and illuminations.</p>
-
-<p>Imagine Richard a paterfamilias and domestic
-tyrant! Yes, indeed, Magna, everything
-is changed.</p>
-
-<p>Now, I really have told you all about myself.
-I don’t believe there is a single craving
-of my soul that I have not disclosed to you.
-It’s not my fault that the result of these disclosures
-appears so miserably poor. How
-old is Jarl now? Sixteen or more? It is a
-good thing that Agnete is soon to be married.
-Write again soon, Magna. I promise to answer.</p>
-
-<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Elsie Lindtner.</span></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54"></a>[54]</span></p>
-
-<p class="dropcap"><span class="smcap">Dear Jeanne</span>,</p>
-
-<p>It may be the consequence of your
-condition, but really, I am getting
-quite concerned about your letters. I
-thought everything was settled for good when
-I promised to relieve you of responsibility by
-taking the child. And now you begin posing
-new riddles.</p>
-
-<p>What secret is it that you cannot betray?
-Why do you talk about hiding yourself in the
-remotest desert? From whom should you
-hide? For what reason? Why do you speak
-of desecration, and say you wish you could die
-before the child is born? You hate to do it
-a wrong? What wrong?</p>
-
-<p>Is this man married? If so, his wife
-needn’t know that you are going to give birth
-to a child. You don’t want to marry him; or
-do you?</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55"></a>[55]</span></p>
-
-<p>If I may advise you, Jeanne, I should suggest
-your leaving the future to take care of
-itself, till you are established in peace and
-quietness in some pretty neighbourhood.
-What do you say to Provence? At the moment
-you are nothing but a bundle of nerves,
-and I have half a mind to come across and do
-what I can to help you. But I am too lazy.
-To do anything to help people when it involves
-trouble, is not my <i>métier</i>; for you,
-even, I cannot take trouble, though I love you.</p>
-
-<p>But if there is anything on your mind,
-please let me know what it is, for, as I said
-before, I am unable to make sense out of the
-nonsense you have written. Write as often
-and at as great length as you like, and the day
-will come, I hope, when I shall at last grasp
-your meaning. Is it a human being that is
-lacking, one with whom you can really talk?
-I am experiencing every day a crowd of little
-stupid things, that keep me going in a most
-agreeable fashion. But I am chiefly taken up<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56"></a>[56]</span>
-with cherishing and cultivating my own
-precious appearance. Altogether, I was
-much more alive when we two sat together in
-our White Villa on the island, and saw the
-leaves falling from the trees.</p>
-
-<p class="center">Your</p>
-
-<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Elsie</span>.</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>Jeanne ... Malthe ... Jeanne ... Malthe.</p>
-
-<p>Jeanne and he ... he and Jeanne....</p>
-
-<p>I must try to understand it. Those
-two....</p>
-
-<p>And, it was the child of these two, their
-child, I wanted to adopt....</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>Two days have passed, but I am no nearer
-understanding. I go round and round in an
-empty circle, and say to myself, “Jeanne and
-Malthe—Malthe and Jeanne.” And I expect
-to be overcome by a heart-rending agony.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57"></a>[57]</span>
-But so far as I can judge, neither my heart nor
-my mind are affected. My nerves, too, are
-perfectly composed. I am, in fact, only petrified
-with astonishment.</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>Why don’t I suffer? What has become of
-the love I once felt. Where is it?—or—I understand
-those two so exactly. It’s myself
-that I don’t understand. I can give them my
-blessing with the easiest and most serene conscience
-in the world. I can even rejoice that
-these two, just these two, have found each
-other so futile; then am I so inexplicably,
-egregiously futile?</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>I have begun to take delight in travelling
-by the Subway. People there don’t pose.
-They are in too great a hurry to put on masks.
-Extraordinary how impressive breeding is
-when it is united with good clothes. The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58"></a>[58]</span>
-train can be so full that there is often a double
-row extending from one end of the car to the
-other, hanging on to the round leather rings
-with coarse, toil-worn, or delicate kid-gloved
-hands. Some one always makes room for me,
-but I also take my time to form the desired
-expression on my face. To-day a poor
-woman sat next to me with two or three little
-wreaths on her lap. She wore a dusty mourning
-veil thrown over her hair.</p>
-
-<p>She cried the whole way; the veil was so
-shabby that I calculated the child must have
-died a long time ago. Her grief was still
-fresh. Mine has never existed. I had
-thought my life at least contained what is
-called a great sorrow. But I have only
-draped an empty space with the trappings of
-sorrow....</p>
-
-<p>I must write to Jeanne.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59"></a>[59]</span></p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p class="dropcap"><span class="smcap">Dear Little Travelling Companion</span>,</p>
-
-<p>This letter might be written in
-twenty different ways, but only one is
-the right way, and now I begin writing to you
-in the same style as I write in my own poor,
-dull diary. You know it is only lazy people
-who can bear to record the barrenness of their
-daily life in a diary.</p>
-
-<p>Accept my warmest and most sincere congratulations,
-dear Jeanne, and don’t shed any
-more tears on my account. You have not
-transgressed anything, you dear child, with
-your refined humanity. Neither has he.
-Yet you fancy that your letters—your “confession,”
-has caused me pain. Oh, no! Alas!
-it has done nothing of the kind. I say, alas!
-because I should so like to believe myself,
-that I had once in my life loved with my
-whole heart. Now I see it must have been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60"></a>[60]</span>
-all imagination. It can’t be explained otherwise—a
-delusion, a myth—anything you like.
-Perhaps a charming dream.</p>
-
-<p>Well, the dream is over; that is the only
-thing I am certain about. All that remains
-of it is the memory of a good friend who,
-by a truly magical freak of fate, has found
-the one woman, in my opinion, suited to
-him.</p>
-
-<p>Jeanne, I am not disguising the facts. This
-is the first and the last time, too, for that matter—that
-the subject of Malthe and myself is
-mentioned between us.</p>
-
-<p>The whole time you and I were knocking
-about the world like homeless vagrants, you
-never referred to it, or let drop a hint, that
-you knew the whole humiliating connection.
-Though <i>I knew that you knew</i>, and that raised
-you in my esteem as a human creature to an
-extraordinary degree. I think so highly of
-Malthe that you alone seem to me good
-enough for him. So you see what you write<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61"></a>[61]</span>
-about committing a “robbery” has no point.
-And more than that, I can tell you I am one
-of those women ill adapted to <i>live with</i>, much
-less <i>to love</i>, another human being. I am
-quite clear now about this. You, on the contrary,
-in compensation for your joyless youth,
-are endowed with the capacity for self-sacrifice
-and yielding. For you it will be a positive
-delight to abandon your <i>ego</i>, and let it be
-absorbed by his. For me such a thing is inconceivable.</p>
-
-<p>There is no necessity to recur any more to
-the past—at least as far as I am concerned.
-On your behalf we unfortunately have to do
-it. Much more than the news itself, does
-your question, shall you speak or be silent,
-perplex my brain and excite my emotions.</p>
-
-<p>If my position was now what it once was,
-and my views of life what they once were, I
-should answer decidedly: Keep your lips
-closed, and the secret that concerns only you,
-locked in your heart! But now there are<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62"></a>[62]</span>
-other factors to consider. I am changed.
-Time and life—I scarcely know what—have
-changed me—and you are not like the majority
-of women, and Malthe is not a man like
-other men.</p>
-
-<p>You may perhaps cause him a never-ending
-torment by speaking. Be clear on this, or you
-may cause yourself no less pain by keeping
-silent, and letting what is past and over for
-ever be forgotten. I know you, Jeanne;
-every day and every hour you will despise
-yourself more and more because his belief in
-you is so boundless.</p>
-
-<p>You can’t be silent. You will be compelled
-to lie. What to ninety-nine people
-out of a hundred would be simple and natural
-enough will undermine not only your self-respect,
-but your joy in life. On the other
-hand, you have never loved. The thing you
-call your past, has really had no significance
-for you. Why should it be unearthed now,
-and dragged into the glare of day? Why<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63"></a>[63]</span>
-should something that meant nothing but
-words to you, be made crucial? Are you two,
-you and he, to spend the most beautiful
-years of your love in exhuming corpses and
-taking them about with you wherever you
-go?</p>
-
-<p>Joergen Malthe is not as other men are.
-He will never reproach you, but he will
-grieve, and you will grieve with him.</p>
-
-<p>You see, I am unable to advise you. Perhaps
-I have no right to take the responsibility
-upon me. I have often talked by the hour to
-your future husband. But as far as I can remember,
-we never touched on the topic of
-woman in the abstract. Thus it comes about
-that I am ignorant of what Malthe’s views
-are.</p>
-
-<p>And yet—Malthe is the father of your
-child. The father of your unborn child.</p>
-
-<p>Speak, Jeanne, speak openly and without
-fear. It will be setting up no defence for having
-yielded to his inclinations, but he will find<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a>[64]</span>
-in it a means of explaining and defending
-what happened before his time; for Joergen
-Malthe is not like other men.</p>
-
-<p>If he has thought it right and natural that
-the woman he loves should become his in the
-way you have become his, he will think it
-right and natural that you should have exercised
-the sovereignty over your person before
-you knew him. All you have got to tell him
-afterwards is that you love him and that you
-have never loved any one but him.</p>
-
-<p>I seem to myself at this moment so very
-ancient. Such an eternity lies between then
-and now, but that is as it should be.</p>
-
-<p>Little travelling companion with the red
-hair, let me see you helping him now in the
-prime of his manhood to build up his reputation,
-so that his name will become immortal.
-You understand how to see—how to enjoy.
-Pack your infant when it is born in a little
-trunk with perforated lid, and take it about
-with you, or leave it behind. Don’t let it be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65"></a>[65]</span>
-a hindrance or a barrier between you two in
-your joint lives.</p>
-
-<p>There is a great deal more that I should
-like to write, but now I must go and dress.
-You know “Tristan and Isolde” always was
-my favourite opera.</p>
-
-<p>I was going to urge you not to show this letter
-to Malthe, but, after all, I leave you a free
-hand in the matter.</p>
-
-<p>For many reasons I believe that if he saw
-it the consequences would not be disastrous.</p>
-
-<p>With many embraces. I wish you a happiness
-that will last through life.</p>
-
-<p class="center">Your</p>
-
-<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Elsie Lindtner</span>.</p>
-
-<p class="tb">You need not trouble to find me more lace
-patterns. I have presented my whole collection
-to the Metropolitan Museum. My new
-craze, dwarf cacti, amuses me far more—they
-can’t be enclosed in letters and newspapers
-unfortunately.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66"></a>[66]</span></p>
-
-<p>When did they first meet? It is no concern
-of mine, but I can’t help thinking much
-about it. Did they know each other before?
-Yes, of course. He looked after her when
-she passed through the room. From me he
-looked across at her—and compared. And
-after—yes, what after? Did he think continually
-of Jeanne as before he thought of me?
-Or is it merely because chance has thrown
-them together in Paris? Or is it possible that
-they did not recognise each other at first, and
-only discovered later where they had met
-for the first time? Have I played any part
-in their conversation? Have they clasped
-hands over my memory, as over a grave?</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>I don’t grudge them their happiness.
-Jeanne is the right woman for him, and only a
-Joergen Malthe could satisfy and supplement
-Jeanne’s whole nature.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67"></a>[67]</span></p>
-
-<p>How has it come about that everything in
-me has gone to rest? I feel like a heap of
-faded leaves lying down somewhere in a deep
-hollow, where not a breath of wind reaches
-it, and it lulls itself to sleep.</p>
-
-<p>I don’t live now as I used to live, and I have
-no goal to strive for; but I have no cares,
-much less do I feel in despair about anything.
-Truly, I am very comfortable in mind and
-body. I should not mind living for ever this
-sort of life. Yet at the same time I should
-feel no alarm if some one came and said, “You
-must die to-night.”</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>When I consider it in broad daylight, I
-have a heap of enjoyments, small and insignificant,
-but perfectly unclouded enjoyments.</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>Yes, here I am laid up with measles—at<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68"></a>[68]</span>
-my age—a fiery rash, and everything else.
-Perhaps I shall get whooping-cough next?
-It would be much the best plan if one could
-have every childish complaint at once and
-have done with it. It is boring in this magnificent
-carbolic-scented clinic; but the nursing
-is good, and it is said to be healthy to be
-bored. I always fancied the much spoken
-about self-sacrifice nurses to be an old wives’
-tale.</p>
-
-<p>In the room next mine, there is the most
-passionate little monster of a boy nine months
-old, and no one would believe it, but all the
-nurses are willing to give up their sorely
-needed night’s rest for his sake. I, for my
-part, wish he was in a hot place.</p>
-
-<p>And then they actually ask me if I wouldn’t
-like to have him “in my bed for a little.”
-Heaven protect me and my well-conditioned
-intellect! Oh! I pity the poor women who
-have several little children at the same time!
-I’d like to know how many mothers really<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69"></a>[69]</span>
-feel for their children—<i>because</i> it is their
-children.</p>
-
-<p>Richard will get it with that wonder of a
-child. He boasts about his teeth, but he says
-nothing about the pain getting those teeth has
-cost him.</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>Yesterday I had a visit from a convalescent,
-who went round paying visits to the patients
-who were still lying in bed. I shall make
-friends with her. She amuses me. How
-well I understood that there can be a certain
-charm in studying bacteria and bacilli—small
-causes, huge results.</p>
-
-<p>Frankly, I thought at first that she had been
-in a reformatory. There was something
-about her that gave the impression that she
-must have been under restraint. I was quite
-prepared that she would confess to having
-committed some crime. But no, that wasn’t
-it.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70"></a>[70]</span></p>
-
-<p>She had only been in all innocence a nun
-for twenty-two years. Twenty-two years a
-nun! Think of it! There were the years,
-too, that she was pupil and novice, making
-altogether twenty-six years behind the walls
-of a convent, subjected to the convent discipline
-and the weary convent habit. And now
-she has broken loose, like a prisoner who
-makes a rope of his bedclothes to escape over
-walls to freedom.</p>
-
-<p>She had compelled—how, she did not disclose—the
-Church to set her at liberty, and
-now was beginning to live her own life for the
-first time. The life which she left at sixteen
-she has now taken up again at the age of forty-two.
-She looks like a person of sixty.</p>
-
-<p>I could not forbear putting the indiscreet
-question, why she had broken away? And
-she replied, what was evidently the truth, that
-when she noticed she was beginning to grow
-old, a doubt arose within her as to whether
-the life in the world outside was not richer<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71"></a>[71]</span>
-than the life behind the convent walls. She
-has given all her large fortune to the Church,
-and now lives on a scanty allowance grudgingly
-doled out to her by one of the sisters.</p>
-
-<p>But she is happy as a queen in two little
-rooms, where she is her own mistress, able to
-eat and drink when she wants to, and as much
-as she likes. And she can serve her God unbidden
-by the ding-dong of the chapel bell—for
-she has not abjured her faith.</p>
-
-<p>The one desire of her heart now is to find
-a man who’ll marry her. Her modesty is certainly
-touching. She doesn’t mind who he is,
-or what he looks like, if only she may be
-granted the wonderful happiness of having a
-husband. I lied my utmost to comfort her.</p>
-
-<p>And if she can’t get a husband, she intends
-to adopt a child.</p>
-
-<p>A really sick, starving, miserable child. I
-said tamely, that if I cherished—as God forbid
-that I should—such a fad, I would, at all
-events, seek out a healthy, pretty, and well-nourished<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72"></a>[72]</span>
-infant. Whereupon she answered,
-“I don’t want a child to live for my sake; I
-want to live for the sake of a child.” She is
-a fine, but rather queer creature. And she
-has promised to come and see me every day.</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>Sister Ethel has bet me a palm—she has obviously
-an empty tub in her room—that if
-once I had the little boy next door with me
-for an hour, I should take him to my heart.</p>
-
-<p>I would rather give her the palm straight
-off, and have nothing to do with the little boy;
-but still, if it gives her any pleasure, well, I’ll
-have him this afternoon, but directly the hour
-is over, clean sheets.</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>To my eternal shame I am bound to confess
-that I have lost the palm. It may be that all
-the nun’s sentimental gabble has affected my<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73"></a>[73]</span>
-brain! I, who abhor the scent of little children,
-and shudder to touch them.</p>
-
-<p>He lay perfectly still and squinted up at me,
-sucking a finger. It was the little finger. I
-really shouldn’t mind losing another palm,
-but my pride, God be praised, prevents my
-giving expression to the wish.</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>He doesn’t cry when he is with me. Nobody
-can understand it. In the night when
-he was crying, I, foolish old person, rose from
-my bed of measles, and went to look in on him.
-I thought the nurse had gone away. It was
-rather a painful situation.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74"></a>[74]</span></p>
-
-<p class="dropcap"><span class="smcap">Dear Professor Rothe</span>,<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p>
-
-<p>Your letter was such a shock to me
-that I could not answer it at once....
-That is why I sent you the brief telegram in
-reply, the words of which I am sorry I must
-repeat, “I know nothing about the matter.”
-Lili has never spoken of it to me, or made the
-least allusion which could cause me to suspect
-such a thing. I may truthfully say that I
-never heard her mention the name of Director
-Schlegel. My first idea was that Lili had
-gone out of her mind, and I was surprised
-that you, a medical man, should not have
-come to the same conclusion.</p>
-
-<p>But, after thinking it over for the last two
-days, I have changed my opinion. I think
-I am beginning to understand what has happened,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75"></a>[75]</span>
-and I beg you to hold me alone
-responsible for what I am going to say....
-I am only making suppositions. Lili
-has not broken her marriage vows. Any
-suspicion of such a thing is out of the question,
-her nature was too upright, too loyal....
-If she appeared to you and the world
-happy in her married life, it was because
-she really was so. I entreat you to believe
-this.</p>
-
-<p>Lili, who never told even a conventional
-lie, who watched over her children like an
-old-fashioned mother, careful of what they
-read and what plays they saw—how could
-she carry on an intrigue unknown to you
-and them? Perfectly impossible, my dear
-Professor. I don’t say that she didn’t
-speak the words you heard, but that you
-must have put a wrong interpretation on
-them.</p>
-
-<p>Not once, but thousands of times, Lili has
-talked about you to me. She loved and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76"></a>[76]</span>
-honoured you. You were her ideal man,
-husband, and father.</p>
-
-<p>She used literally to become eloquent on
-the subject of your operations.... She
-studied Latin in order that she might understand
-your scientific books, while, in spite of
-her natural repulsion from the sight of such
-things, she attended your anatomy classes and
-demonstrations.</p>
-
-<p>When Lili said, “I love Schlegel and have
-loved him for years,” her words did not mean,
-“And all that time my love for you was extinct.”</p>
-
-<p>No, Lili cared for Schlegel, and for you,
-too.... Probably you are saying to yourself,
-“A woman must love one man or the
-other.”</p>
-
-<p>With some show of reason you will argue,
-“In leaving my house, at any rate, she proved
-that Schlegel alone claimed her affection.”</p>
-
-<p>Nevertheless I maintain that you are
-wrong.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77"></a>[77]</span></p>
-
-<p>Lili showed every sign of a sane, well-balanced
-nature. Well, her famous serenity
-and calmness deceived us all. Behind this
-serene exterior was the most feminine of all
-feminine qualities—the fanciful imagination
-of the visionary. Do you or I know anything
-about her first girlish dreams? Have you, in
-spite of your happy life together, ever really
-understood her innermost soul? Forgive me,
-but I do not think you have.</p>
-
-<p>When a man possesses a woman as completely
-as you possessed Lili, he thinks himself
-quite safe. You never doubted for a moment
-that, having you, she could wish for
-anything else.</p>
-
-<p>You are not only a clever and capable man,
-you are kind, and an entertaining companion;
-in short, you have many excellent qualities
-which Lili exalted to the skies. But your
-nature is not very poetical; you are, in fact,
-rather prosaic, and only believe what you see.</p>
-
-<p>Contrast this with Lili’s immense forbearance.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78"></a>[78]</span>
-You remember how we used to laugh
-when she defended some criminal who was
-beyond all defence or apology. Something
-intense and far-seeing came into her expression,
-and her heart, prompted such a line of
-argument which reason could not support.
-She stood all alone in her sympathy, facing
-cold and incredulous people.</p>
-
-<p>Then recollect the pleasure it gave her
-to discuss religious and philosophical questions.</p>
-
-<p>She was not “religious” in the common
-acceptation of the word. But she liked to
-get at the bottom of things, and to use her
-imagination. We others were indifferent or
-frankly bored.</p>
-
-<p>And Lili was so gentle she gave way to us.</p>
-
-<p>Recall, too, her passion for flowers. She
-felt a physical pang to see cut flowers with
-their stalks out of water. Once I saw her
-buy up a flower girl’s whole stock, because the
-poor things wanted water. You and your<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79"></a>[79]</span>
-children have no love of flowers. As a doctor,
-you are inclined to think it unhealthy to
-have plants in your rooms; consequently there
-were none and Lili never grumbled.</p>
-
-<p>Lili did not care for modern music. César
-Franck wearied her, and Wagner gave her
-a headache. An old-fashioned harpsichord
-would be her favourite instrument, whereas
-at home her daughters thundered out Rubinstein
-and Wagner upon a concert grand, and
-you, dear Professor, when in a good humour,
-strode about the house whistling horribly out
-of tune.</p>
-
-<p>Finally, Lili liked quiet, musical speech,
-and she was surrounded by people who talked
-at the top of their voices.</p>
-
-<p>... She was happy because she willed
-to be happy. She had made up her mind that
-she was the luckiest woman in existence
-... happy in everything, and she was
-deeply grateful to you. But in the depths of
-her heart—so deep down that it never rose<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80"></a>[80]</span>
-to the surface even as a dream—lay that secret
-trouble which has caused the present mischief.</p>
-
-<p>I know nothing of her relations to Schlegel,
-but I think I may venture to say that they
-were chiefly limited to intercourse of the
-soul; ... and so were fatal. Have you ever
-noticed the <i>timbre</i> of Schlegel’s voice? He
-spoke slowly and so softly; I can quite believe
-it attracted your wife in the beginning; and
-that afterwards gradually, and almost imperceptibly,
-she gravitated towards him.</p>
-
-<p>The man is now at death’s door, and can
-never explain what passed between them—even
-admitting that there was anything wrong.
-As far as I know, Schlegel was infatuated with
-a totally different woman. Had he been
-really in love with Lili, would he have been
-content with a few words and an occasional
-pressure of her hand?</p>
-
-<p>Why, then, has Lili left you, and why does
-she refuse to give you an explanation? Why<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81"></a>[81]</span>
-does she allow you to draw the worst conclusions?</p>
-
-<p>I will tell you. Lili is in love with two
-men at the same time. Their different personalities
-and natures satisfy both sides of her
-character. If Schlegel had not fallen from
-his horse and broken his back, thereby losing
-all his faculties, Lili would have remained
-with you and continued to be a model wife
-and mother.</p>
-
-<p>In the same way, had you been the victim
-of the accident, she would have forgotten all
-about Schlegel, and would have lived for you
-alone.</p>
-
-<p>... Lili had not the strength to fight the
-first sharp anguish. The shock bewildered
-her, and the love of her imagination seemed
-to her at the moment the true one. She felt
-she was betraying you, Schlegel, and herself;
-and since self-sacrifice had become the law of
-her life, she was prepared to renounce everything
-as a proof of her love.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>[82]</span></p>
-
-<p>You, Professor Rothe, have acted very
-foolishly. You have done just what any
-average conventional man would have done.
-Your hurt vanity silenced the voice of your
-heart.</p>
-
-<p>You had the choice of thinking two things:
-either Lili was mad, or she was responsible
-for her actions. You were convinced that
-she was sane, and playing you false in cold
-blood....</p>
-
-<p>You write that you have only taken your
-two elder daughters into your confidence.
-How could you have found it in your heart
-to do this...?</p>
-
-<p>Lili knew you better than I supposed. She
-knew that behind your apparent kindness
-there lurked a cold, self-satisfied nature. She
-understood that she would be accounted a
-stranger and a sinner in your house the moment
-you discovered in her a thought or
-sentiment that was not subordinate to your
-will.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>[83]</span></p>
-
-<p>You have let her go, believing that she had
-been playing a pretty part behind your back,
-and that I was her confidante, and perhaps
-also the instigator of her wicked deeds.</p>
-
-<p>Lili has taken refuge with her children’s
-old nurse.</p>
-
-<p>How significant! Lili, who had so many
-friends, knows by a subtler instinct that none
-of them would befriend her in her misfortune.
-If you, Professor Rothe, were a generous-hearted
-man, you would explain to the
-chief doctor at the Infirmary Lili’s great desire
-to stay near Schlegel until the end comes.</p>
-
-<p>She loves you, and it would fill her with
-grateful joy.... If Lili had your consent to
-be near Schlegel she would certainly not
-refuse to come back to her wifely duties as
-soon as he was dead. At first she might not
-be able to conceal her grief, and then it would
-be your task to help her to regain her peace
-of mind.... Schlegel was a man, but had
-he been a portrait or a character in a novel,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>[84]</span>
-Lili would have fallen in love with him just
-the same, because her love was purely of the
-imagination.</p>
-
-<p>You must do what you please. But one
-thing I wish you to understand.... If you
-are not going to act in the matter I shall act.
-I confess openly that I am a selfish woman,
-but I am very fond of Lili, and if you abandon
-her in this cruel and senseless way I shall
-have her to live with me here, and shall do
-my best to console her for the loss of an ungrateful
-husband, and a pack of stupid, undemonstrative
-children.</p>
-
-<p>One of Lili’s tears is worth more than all
-your masculine ebulitions of wrath.</p>
-
-<p>One word more before I finish. Lili, so
-far as I can remember, is a year older than
-I am. Could you not, woman’s specialist as
-you are, have found some excuse for her in
-this fact? Had Lili been fifty-eight or thirty-five,
-all this would never have happened. I
-do not care for strangers to look into my personal<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85"></a>[85]</span>
-affairs, and although you are my cousin’s
-husband, you are practically a stranger to me.
-Nevertheless, I may remind you that women
-at our time of life pass through critical moments,
-as I know by daily experiences. A
-week or two ago it might have been impossible
-to write a letter such as this. I should
-probably have reeled off pages of incoherent
-abuse.</p>
-
-<p>Show Lili that your love was not selfishness
-pure and simple.</p>
-
-<p>With kind regards.</p>
-
-<p class="center">Sincerely yours,</p>
-
-<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Elsie Lindtner</span>.</p>
-
-<div class="footnotes">
-<div class="footnote">
-<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> Extracts from an earlier letter of Elsie Lindtner’s to Professor
-Rothe, in “The Dangerous Age,” are given here again,
-as they throw light on the episode which follows.</p>
-</div>
-</div>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86"></a>[86]</span></p>
-
-<p class="dropcap"><span class="smcap">Dear Professor Rothe</span>,</p>
-
-<p>Lili has closed her eyes never to
-open them again. It will scarcely be
-a great blow to you and yours after what has
-passed; much more will it be a relief. For
-her, indeed, it was so.</p>
-
-<p>I feel it my duty to Lili, not to you, to
-write this letter. You may make what use
-you please of it. It was I who procured Lili
-the sleeping draught, for which she had such
-a burning desire. With my hand in hers I
-sat beside her till she was cold, and I do not
-repent that I had the courage to commit what
-you, as a physician, will call a crime.</p>
-
-<p>A few days before she fell asleep Lili entrusted
-a packet of letters to my care. I read
-them in the night, and now lay them in the
-coffin under her head. These letters were
-not to be read by the unauthorised, and you<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87"></a>[87]</span>
-have become in relation to Lili one of the unauthorised.</p>
-
-<p>You have called hers a harlot-nature—not
-in a moment of excitement, but because,
-after weighty consideration, you arrived at a
-conclusion to which the word was appropriate.
-It is not in my power to give you the
-satisfaction which you deserve, but I wish
-that the hour may come in which you will
-see what a desperate wrong you and your
-abominable children have done Lili.</p>
-
-<p>Harlot-nature, indeed! You can say that
-of Lili to whom you were married for twenty
-years—Lili, the purest of beings!</p>
-
-<p>You say, “She married me, she bore me
-children, she professed to love me, and all
-the time she had a lover behind my back. So
-she was of a harlot-nature!”</p>
-
-<p>Professor Rothe, permit me to accompany
-you into your most private consulting room,
-the room in which you examine the most
-modest of your lady patients. Let me have<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88"></a>[88]</span>
-it out with you, and inquire into your secret
-motives. It is possible that your modesty
-will be shocked, but you shall hear what
-I have to say on Lili’s behalf, and on
-those words, “Judge not that ye be not
-judged.”</p>
-
-<p>When you married her your choice was
-made according to the dictates of your heart,
-and fell on a very young girl who lived on
-the blue heights of idealism. She was your
-wife, your friend, the mother of your children,
-the good angel of your home. And
-would you dare add that she was your love
-also? Yes. You think that because she
-loved you, and you loved her, and because you
-took her in your arms as your wife, that she
-was, of course your love....</p>
-
-<p>But I tell you Lili was never your love, and
-that she never had a lover. And the whole
-time you have known it perfectly well. Answer
-me, if you like, “There are thousands
-and thousands of women who, like Lili, are<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89"></a>[89]</span>
-without feeling in this respect ... still she
-loved another, and so deceived me.”</p>
-
-<p>Is a rose less red and fragrant, because
-there are thousands of other red sweet-smelling
-roses?</p>
-
-<p>But Lili’s nature was so pure, so refined,
-that this deficiency as you would call it, did
-not exist for her. She knew what it meant,
-for she was not ignorant. She understood in
-others what she did not recognise in herself.
-She lived for you, her children, and her
-household, her own beautiful world, so essential
-was it for her to shed light and spread
-joy around her.</p>
-
-<p>From this arose that wonderful harmony
-of her being, making of the non-waking of
-what was dormant within her, neither a trial
-nor a renunciation. If Lili had been blind
-she would have had the same happy nature,
-and would have learned the beauty of joyousness
-through the eyes of every seeing soul.</p>
-
-<p>There never arose within her, as in the case<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>[90]</span>
-of so many poor women, a conscious renunciation
-of the fire of the senses.</p>
-
-<p>How infinitely she must have loved and
-reverenced you, to have been able to tolerate
-without complaint, without abhorrence and a
-sense of renunciation, the position of being
-your wife for so many years.</p>
-
-<p>Schlegel was not her lover, though she
-loved him, and she was more intimate with
-him than I thought at first ... and, listen,
-she loved him with unlimited abandon, because
-he did not possess a husband’s rights to
-lord it over her, and did not assume them.
-This <i>she</i> was unconscious of. But there existed
-a ... a difference between her feelings
-for you and for him. He personified all that
-she had dreamed in her childish years of
-“Love,” and continued to personify it till her
-last hour.</p>
-
-<p>Once she loved you thus, too, and would
-have gone on loving you in the same way if<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>[91]</span>
-you had not desecrated her without awakening
-the woman within her.</p>
-
-<p>Lili was the Sleeping Beauty who slumbered
-eternally. No knight ever roused her
-from her sleep. But you, the man to whom
-she presented her life’s happiness, called her
-harlot-natured!</p>
-
-<p>Her last days were given up to a despairing
-desire for death and pardon for the sin
-which she had never committed.</p>
-
-<p>The Lili who came over here was so
-changed that I hardly knew her. My first
-thought as she touched me and uttered my
-name was, “Who is to blame for this?” It
-was not only a broken-hearted woman, but a
-detested and ill-treated human creature who
-flew from the pursuit of her persecutors to
-die, deserted, in a foreign land.</p>
-
-<p>The Lili I once knew used to come into a
-room as the sunshine penetrates a wood, like
-joy itself. Every one could see through her<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92"></a>[92]</span>
-radiant exterior right into the floor of her
-pure, white soul.</p>
-
-<p>But the Lili who came over here trembled
-in every limb and dared not meet the eyes of
-anybody. Schlegel lies in his grave. When
-he lived I regarded him as indifferently as
-I should any stranger. Now my thoughts go
-out to him full of thankfulness.</p>
-
-<p>And Lili came home to you and ate the
-bread of humiliation for four long years in
-your house, while people admired you because
-you had pardoned her so magnanimously.
-Your abominable children looked down on
-their mother and behaved to her as to one not
-responsible for her actions. Dancing went
-on in your house, Professor Rothe, and
-Lili sat upstairs alone in her room. Betrothal
-festivities were celebrated by your
-family, while the mistress of the house was
-said to be ill, so that her pale, grief-stricken
-face should not cast a shadow on the festive
-scene.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93"></a>[93]</span></p>
-
-<p>I did the little I could, all that was in my
-power to win back the old, dear Lili, but it
-was too late. One cannot say that her mind
-was under a cloud, but she brooded day and
-night over a problem which she could not
-solve. Mostly she sat looking down on her
-hands, which were never still. Sometimes she
-talked of the children. She had once overheard
-Edmée say to one of the maids, it would
-be much better if mother were sent to an institution.
-Those words she could never forget.</p>
-
-<p>Professor Rothe! Time after time unhappy
-women have come to you to be consoled,
-and helped by your explaining to them that
-the dangerous years of transition may affect
-the brain of even the steadiest and most normal
-of women.</p>
-
-<p>You could treat others with consideration
-and give them shrewd and kind advice. But
-for Lili’s dangerous period you did not concern
-yourself. You allowed fate to shatter<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>[94]</span>
-her beautiful existence. You never stretched
-out a hand to protect her. For Lili’s sake
-I cannot help hoping that there is a resurrection
-after death, a place “where nothing
-is dishonoured, where all is love.” To such
-a place Lili belongs. I have chosen a grave
-for her, looking south, where flowers will
-flourish, and have done it in my name.</p>
-
-<p>To-morrow, I shall send you the necessary
-business details—a death certificate referring
-to heart disease—even if I have to write it
-myself.</p>
-
-<p>I have opened the window. The river is
-as blue as it used to be at home in light nights.
-Here it is the moon that makes it blue. If
-only I had the power I would lay Lili in a
-boat and let her drift out to sea.</p>
-
-<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Elsie Lindtner.</span></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>[95]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak">LETTERS FROM LILI ROTHE TO
-THE MAN SHE LOVED</h2>
-
-<p class="dropcap">I have accumulated so many letters from
-you. To-day another has come—a letter
-from you to me!</p>
-
-<p>Thus I know that you still think of me.
-And it does me good to know it. I go about
-thinking of you always and always, and it
-makes me happy. I want nothing different
-and nothing else but to be allowed to love
-you.</p>
-
-<p>The letter ... in my hand, in my possession
-... you, who understand what it is to
-love, will know how it is when one loves.
-Every trifling thing becomes a heaven and an
-earth.</p>
-
-<p>The letter in my hand ... that means
-holding minutes of your time. Time is life.
-So I possess a bit of your life. For you the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96"></a>[96]</span>
-minutes have vanished, like raindrops sunk
-in the ground; for me they have imperishable
-qualities; they are like seeds that send up
-shoots and more shoots, to be nourished by the
-sun and moisture of my love.</p>
-
-<p>And what was there in the letter? I am
-not ashamed to answer, only word after word,
-like footprint after footprint on a muddy
-path. The written sheets contain hardly
-more than the blank ones. But I did not expect
-that they would, how could I expect it?</p>
-
-<p>For you I am simply one among many.
-No, perhaps a little more, a tiny bit more.
-You said the first time we were alone together
-... not to me ... that my nature
-was congenial to you. That meant you liked
-to be in my neighbourhood—my poor little
-neighbourhood. I feel such pity for myself
-when we are together. It is like being two
-people, one of whom has to do and say the
-very opposite of what the other would like to
-say and do.... Only when I go away from<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a>[97]</span>
-you and your glance follows me like a living
-shadow, that doesn’t belong to me, I feel
-frightened and ashamed as a child. I am
-nervous about my walk, my figure, my movements,
-lest they should jar on you, and then
-I try to appear nonchalant. I talk and
-laugh, and am two people at once, one of
-whom watches the gaucheries of the other
-with sad eyes; the other who is quite at sea
-how she shall act to please you. And that is
-I myself, I, who in every one else’s society, feel
-as free as the pollen of the buttercups as it flies
-over the fields. I talk on and on as if I must
-fill space with my words, fearful that the embarrassment
-of silence will turn my features
-to stone, fearful, too, of discovering a glint
-of boredom in your glance. Your glance!
-It is like a dark, slowly flowing river that
-bears your soul towards me.</p>
-
-<p>When you look at me, a new world is born
-within and around me. It is as on that day
-when the Lord said, “Let there be light, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98"></a>[98]</span>
-there was light.” Your glance has divided
-me inwardly into light and darkness, which
-are a greater contrast than night and sun.</p>
-
-<p>Your glance penetrates every drop of blood
-in my veins, as the sunshine soaks into the
-sleeping earth, and awakes to life its slumbering
-powers.</p>
-
-<p>I know when your glance is resting on me
-like a tired hand on the arm of a chair.
-When you contemplate me without seeing
-me, because you are thinking of those cares
-which I divine, though I know nothing about
-them, something cries out within me, not
-from one place but from a thousand. Then
-warm founts of pity and grief overflow my
-inward being.</p>
-
-<p>But don’t be afraid, my friend, that I shall
-speak of what I suspect. If you would
-rather no one should know, I will be silent—like
-a flower at evening I will close my eyes,
-compelled by the darkness in which you envelop
-yourself.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99"></a>[99]</span></p>
-
-<p>And I will go on seeming to understand
-nothing, nothing at all. But your mouth, beloved,
-your mouth, and your dear, beautiful
-hands betray you.</p>
-
-<p>There is a quiver and trembling round the
-corners of your mouth as if the unspoken
-words lay there in ambush—and your hands
-look so helpless.</p>
-
-<p>Your hands, whose grasp can be so majestically
-firm and strong, hang limply down,
-but you are not aware of it. At times your
-hands appear to me so full of “sin, sorrow,
-and peril,” that I feel as if my soul were
-responsible for yours.</p>
-
-<p>I talk to you like this, beloved, because you
-will never know. There are other days when
-your glance, as you look at me, is like a blue
-flower that blossoms in the sacred garden of
-dreams, but only because you are happy in
-yourself, only because of that. You have
-had some pleasant experience, or built up
-some new hope.... I think, then, that you<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100"></a>[100]</span>
-have derived strength from the glance that is
-life to you, as yours is my own life’s fountain.</p>
-
-<p>At those times your glance flashes towards
-me, and a smile comes and goes on your lips.
-It comes from the foundation of your being,
-and is astonished at itself. At those times
-your figure is upright and elastic, and if you
-walk across a room you move with a rhythm
-that touches me like a song.</p>
-
-<p>But, beloved ... you have yet another, a
-third look ... and this I recall when it
-grows dark. I fear it the most and love it
-the most. It’s when you realise I am a
-woman ... suddenly, as if a mask fell from
-my face, you realise that I am a woman, and
-not only a woman, but a woman meant for
-you. And the smile that then encloses me
-like a snare has not its origin in your consciousness
-and knowledge of my love, but its
-origin is in me because I am a woman. And
-then, of course, because in the kindness of
-your heart you are glad to give me the pleasure<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101"></a>[101]</span>
-of remembering that I am a woman, your
-eyes fill with a misty twilight, and into this
-twilight I sink as into an everlasting night.</p>
-
-<p>I feel your arm supporting my neck, your
-cheek’s melancholy pressure. Shuddering
-we stand leaning against each other, like two
-pines of the forest, that for a short space a
-hurricane of storm wind has flung together
-only to separate them again.</p>
-
-<p>All the time your smile is cold and meditative,
-and your glance is extinguished like a
-lamp that has consumed its last drop of oil.
-My poor heart tells me the reason—you are
-wondering at yourself for giving way to a
-mood which means so little to you.</p>
-
-<p>But when, saddened, I try to move away,
-you again offer me your mouth as a friendly
-almsgiving.... The letter, the barren letter
-I hold it to my heart. I leave my house and
-go into the deepest part of the wood till I find
-a place solitary enough to lie down in. The
-letter has filled me with a joy that resembles<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102"></a>[102]</span>
-the pungent fragrance of the pine needles carpeting
-the ground.</p>
-
-<p>I open my letter, contemplate the two unwritten
-sides, and read once more the written
-sheets.... I begin a deliberate juggle with
-the words; I transpose them over and over
-again, read each letter separately, as if there
-were some sweet secret hidden in each, and
-a caress in every stroke of the pen. I can’t
-help thinking there must be somewhere between
-the lines one single little word all for
-myself, that concerns me only.</p>
-
-<p>Yet my joy goes down with the sun; the
-leaves cease to glow, and the darkness gathers
-in, and I sit with nothing but despondency in
-my lap.</p>
-
-<p>Beloved, beloved! how kind you are!</p>
-
-<p>I have lain awake all night with these
-words ringing in my head like a song through
-the darkness. How kind you are!</p>
-
-<p>You gave me a whole evening. Don’t deny
-it, for you know I collect all the minutes that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a>[103]</span>
-you can spare from your superfluity. I glean
-them together, as Ruth gleaned wheat on
-Boaz’s fertile acres. I hadn’t dared to hope;
-not dared, you must believe me. I left the
-house alone with thoughts about you, but
-without the slightest shadow of a hope of seeing
-you. Then when I asked you imploringly,
-“Come to the meeting,” you shook your
-head and answered, “I can’t manage it.”</p>
-
-<p>But while I made my way through the
-lighted, busy streets, my heart became suddenly
-so heavy that I felt I couldn’t go on.
-Yet I dragged myself there.</p>
-
-<p>Many people greeted me, and said they
-were glad to see me.... I stood in the
-centre of a little group. Then all at once I
-felt <i>your</i> presence. I heard you coming ...
-your step ... it seemed as if you walked
-straight up to my very heart’s door.</p>
-
-<p>Smiling, you held out your hand to me ...
-that alone was enough to gild my evening, but
-you stayed with me, stayed with <i>me</i>. We sat<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104"></a>[104]</span>
-together, <i>we two</i>. The whole evening we sat
-together. While others discussed what they
-had come together to discuss, I sat apart and
-let myself be enthralled by a happiness which
-was almost more than I could bear.</p>
-
-<p>Several times you leaned close to me to
-whisper something, and we both laughed and
-chatted about the others.</p>
-
-<p>You are very fond of me as a friend with
-whom you can talk or be silent at your pleasure.
-If I were to cease to exist one day, you
-would—if only for a few minutes—feel the
-loss. Therefore I know that my life has not
-been lived in vain.</p>
-
-<p>So, gradually, I have gained ground, step
-by step, and I don’t worry you. That is true,
-is it not? I don’t worry you? Rather than be
-a burden to you I would give up the joy that
-lies for me in seeing you now and then, and
-being sometimes where you are. It is that I
-long for nothing else, but to be allowed to
-love you.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105"></a>[105]</span></p>
-
-<p>Sometimes when my thoughts soar to the
-cloudy pinnacles of bliss I have asked myself,
-what if the impossible were to happen, if you
-were to love me!</p>
-
-<p>The clouds float on high, but when they
-are heavy with the moisture of earth, they
-weep till they are light again, and their tears
-water into fruitfulness the woods and meadows,
-while they themselves sail on yonder
-through the chill ether.</p>
-
-<p>The clouds aspire to reach the height of
-the stars as my thoughts aspire to your love.
-But they know perfectly well that they are
-striving after the unattainable.</p>
-
-<p>And when my thoughts have tarried a
-while up there in the sky, they become
-weighed down with depression and float
-softly earthwards, where they properly belong,
-and my heart itself drops like an anchor
-into the deep, quiet waters of sorrow.</p>
-
-<p>But why do I talk of sorrow, I who am the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106"></a>[106]</span>
-happiest of the happy?... I didn’t mean
-it, no, I didn’t mean it in the least.</p>
-
-<p>But if the impossible were to happen, the
-impossible....</p>
-
-<p>If it could happen that you would love me?
-If your glance told me so just once.</p>
-
-<p>I know what I should do—yes, I know. I
-should shut my eyes on that glance, so as
-never to let it go from me. I should leave
-my home, and my children, and go away. I
-should take leave of life, and fall asleep
-quietly, oh, so quietly, never to awake.</p>
-
-<p>The darkness of the grave would have to
-be round me, so that not a sound disturbed
-my happiness.</p>
-
-<p>To live and know that you loved me! I
-could not do it. My strength would be lacking.
-I can only love.</p>
-
-<p>Henry said one day, “Don’t touch any of
-my little bottles.” I was staring at them so
-hard. Each of the little bottles contained
-the peace of the grave. But I must go on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107"></a>[107]</span>
-living for the sake of my little children, for
-Henry’s sake. And why should I not go on
-living? I have no reason to wish to do otherwise.
-Yet I am not with them, though in
-their midst. When I move about in my
-rooms, when I talk to the children and Henry,
-I am not there. My eyes are seeking <i>him</i>,
-my ears strain after <i>him</i>....</p>
-
-<p>From the first moment we met, my <i>beloved</i>,
-you and I—I became a stranger amongst my
-own people. But no one knows it, except
-myself. And I feel that if I was bound by a
-thousand ties, I should break them all, where
-you, my love, were concerned.</p>
-
-<p>I am so very much of a dreamer that it is
-difficult for me to write distinctly just what
-the relations are between us. Other thoughts
-perpetually throng upon me, and I have to
-strive hard not to pervert things or fabricate.
-And you will understand that I have not a jot
-or tittle of desire to fabricate....</p>
-
-<p>You must know how poor I am, in spite of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108"></a>[108]</span>
-my having home and family, and how rich,
-on the contrary, you make me, so that eternally
-I must love you. You must be told everything.
-You must be told how very well I
-know you don’t care whether you are told or
-not, but I write not for your sake, but for the
-sake of my own love.... You are so unspeakably
-good and kind....</p>
-
-<p>There was another evening, the evening of
-the fête. I asked you to give me a moment,
-one little moment for me alone, and in the
-middle of the revel and music we sat down
-in a corner together, at a little table. One
-gets distinct in calculating when the means are
-so sparingly few.</p>
-
-<p>I seated myself at an angle, from which I
-could, to my heart’s content, and eye’s satisfaction,
-gaze right into your soul without any
-one seeing what I was doing.</p>
-
-<p>You, you looked at me as if you were glad
-at my joy. You talked of all sorts of things.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109"></a>[109]</span>
-But every word that you let fall with a confidential
-emphasis as if it were between you
-and me alone, was like pure gold—a treasure
-to be added to my heart.</p>
-
-<p>Not for long were we allowed to sit together
-undisturbed. Other people came up
-to us and jokingly teased us. They said that
-we too obviously sought each other’s company.
-How stupid of them to say that, when
-it is only I who seek yours. And yet—don’t
-be vexed with me—I liked them to say it. So
-I do.</p>
-
-<p>And then it was that we came to discuss
-goodness, and I said so that every one could
-hear, that you were the best and finest of all
-the men I knew. My own husband stood
-near and smiled. He was so sure of me....
-You, as well as the others, declared that there
-were men who might compare favourably
-with you. I could not bear to hear that.
-Softly in an undertone, I begged you to confess<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110"></a>[110]</span>
-that you were the best, and you whispered,
-using “thou” for the first time, “For
-<i>thee</i> I am best.”</p>
-
-<p>But it is not true that you are only best
-for me. You are wonderfully good—your
-whole manner of life bears witness to it.
-Every one knows it, and every one knows that
-you suffer. No one can protect you from its
-being common knowledge that you have suffered
-deeply. Your heart lies in ruins. I
-ought to learn from you to forget myself, and
-never to speak of love which to you can never
-mean anything again. But I don’t speak in
-words.</p>
-
-<p>It was that evening you clasped me close
-to you, not because you loved me, but because
-you were so kind. While your lips sought
-mine I asked, “Then it is true that you love
-me a little?” and you answered in your infinite
-goodness, “Yes, it is true, you are very,
-very dear to me.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111"></a>[111]</span></p>
-
-<p>But suppose I had then said, “Do you love
-me?” and you in your infinite goodness had
-replied, “Yes, I love you.” What then?
-What then?</p>
-
-<p>I dread the moment when I shall put this
-question to you. It lies in the womb of the
-future, waiting to reveal itself. May I have
-the power granted me never to speak, but if I
-do speak, may I understand absolutely that
-your answer is prompted by infinite goodness
-alone. Yet between us there is something
-that is all yours and mine. Something
-greater than love, for love aims at a goal, and
-sooner or later comes to a standstill. But that
-which exists between you and me revolves on
-and on like a silent star in its own distant
-sphere. Nobody and nothing can check its
-progress.</p>
-
-<p>... I am not exigent. Your love will, I
-know, never be my possession. I don’t expect
-it, and don’t wish it. It is my greatest happiness<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112"></a>[112]</span>
-that I have met you too late to be one of
-the many who have passed out of your heart
-into the cold, and everlasting yearning.</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>To-day is my birthday, and each one is
-emulating the other to give me pleasure.
-The rooms are crammed with flowers and
-presents. Yet I am not joyous, and the whole
-affair seems very childish. How should you
-be able to remember that to-day is my birthday?
-<i>You</i> who know such heaps of people!</p>
-
-<p>You will come to-night! I did not tell you
-intentionally that it was my birthday....
-Perhaps because I hoped that you yourself
-would recollect the date. Last year I met
-you in the street on my birthday, and you told
-me that it was the anniversary of your father’s
-death, and then I said that it was my birthday.
-You asked if you might send me some flowers,
-and I said no. How could I have explained
-it, receiving flowers from <i>you</i> who had never<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113"></a>[113]</span>
-been in our house. And now, this evening
-you are coming!!</p>
-
-<p>At first you did not wish to come, and it
-was sweet of you not to wish it. But as you
-don’t—don’t love me there is no reason why
-you should mind meeting my husband.</p>
-
-<p>You are coming this evening. You are
-coming! Every time the bell rings my heart
-begins to beat faster, and every time I am disappointed.
-It is like standing in a brilliantly
-lighted room that becomes suddenly
-dark.</p>
-
-<p>Once I received flowers from you which I
-never thanked you for. You know nothing
-about these flowers. Shall I tell you their
-story? But you mustn’t laugh.</p>
-
-<p>I always feel happy when I think of them.
-It is almost as if the flowers were standing
-again in the window, and I lying in my hypnotic
-sleep, unable to open my eyes but knowing
-all the time that your yellow orchids,
-trembling like a swarm of golden butterflies<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114"></a>[114]</span>
-on their delicate stalks were standing there in
-the window. I don’t suppose you gave a
-thought to whether they would reach me before
-or after the operation. Perhaps you
-merely rang up a florist on the telephone and
-ordered something specially beautiful to be
-sent to the Nursing Home on one or other of
-the days. And I am modest with good reason
-about questioning you.</p>
-
-<p>I was in bed. No one was with me. The
-doctor had just been here and—as he considered
-his duty—explained for me, what my
-dear Henry had been so carefully keeping
-from me, that it was a matter of
-life and death. He had very little hope.
-But I was not afraid. I lay there and
-thought of you, of Henry and the children,
-and then again of you. I thought of how I
-had told you that I had to undergo that severe
-operation. I was bound to tell you—then, in
-case I died, I had to say good-bye to you.</p>
-
-<p>You tried to turn it off with a joke, but in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115"></a>[115]</span>
-a few minutes you grew grave. You asked
-if I was nervous, and I begged you, if matters
-did not go well, to visit my grave, just
-once. Only once. It was very childish of
-me, but you did not laugh. You merely said,
-“To satisfy you I will promise, but I know
-you will live to visit my grave....”</p>
-
-<p>I have the power when I like, of bringing
-you before me in the flesh, so very much in the
-flesh, that I at times can hardly bear other
-people to be in the room. I want to be alone
-with you. After I came out of the operating
-theatre, I was alone with you every evening
-and every night.</p>
-
-<p>I talked to you, I talked ... and you were
-silent. I never was able to put many words
-into your mouth. But your attentive eyes
-rested on me ... and you were there.</p>
-
-<p>When the doctor had gone, I lay by myself
-for a long time. The nurse supposed naturally
-that I needed rest after my conversation
-with the doctor. I thought of you. I was so<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116"></a>[116]</span>
-curiously restless, a sort of joyous, expectant
-restlessness. I kept looking at the door, as if
-every minute I should see you coming in.</p>
-
-<p>I didn’t really expect you. I knew, of
-course, that it was impossible, for many reasons.
-It would not occur to you to call on
-me. You might easily imagine that visits so
-shortly before the operation would not be permitted.
-There had been flowers in my room,
-sent by my friends, and many of Henry’s patients.</p>
-
-<p>But they had been taken away, because I
-must not be excited by their scent. I lay
-there and gazed at the door; my heart began
-to beat violently—no, not exactly to beat, but
-it felt as if something was entering it. You
-must not think, beloved, that I imagined all
-this afterwards. I felt—I could feel distinctly
-that some great joy was on its way to
-me. I heard the footsteps approaching in my
-heart, and then I heard them outside on the
-stairs. Nurses and visitors were coming and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117"></a>[117]</span>
-going all day on the stairs, but, nevertheless,
-I sat up in bed pressing my hand on my heart,
-for I knew, I knew, that this concerned you.</p>
-
-<p>My nurse came in with a parcel. It
-seemed as if she, too, understood that this was
-something which I ought to see at once. She
-came quite close up to me with the box and,
-smiling, opened it deliberately, so deliberately
-that it looked as if she were teasing me....
-“Let me open it,” I begged, but no, she insisted
-on doing it herself.</p>
-
-<p>I felt how the blood deserted my face....
-“Give them to me!” I implored as if I were
-praying for my life. She handed me the
-long spray from which the flowers hung like
-gold sunbeams, and fluttered over the whiteness
-of the sheet. I held the spray in my
-hand.</p>
-
-<p>When she was gone, I kissed every one of
-the sensitive flowers. And you were with me.
-All your steadfast calm was infused into my
-blood. Now I could die happy. The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118"></a>[118]</span>
-flowers were put in water and placed in the
-window. They were to stay there all night,
-I said, and no one objected. I had a light
-burning the whole night through, as if I were
-afraid of the dark. I dozed and woke, and
-dozed and woke. The flowers did not sleep,
-and they did not fly away.</p>
-
-<p>You, you were with me!</p>
-
-<p>Even if you never thought of me at all that
-night you were still with me. And, maybe,
-you dreamed of me. Men often dream of
-things that they haven’t been thinking about.
-And you forgot your dream before you awoke.</p>
-
-<p>The next morning when they came to fetch
-me, I besought so earnestly that my orchids
-might stand beside the bed. I submitted
-calmly to the anæsthetic. While the mask was
-being drawn over my face I thought of you,
-and it seemed as if the yellow, dewy petals
-began to dance over me.</p>
-
-<p>Deeply I breathed in the fragrance, and I
-felt as if the flowers filled the room. They<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119"></a>[119]</span>
-had increased from a swarm to countless
-swarms, and become a singing ocean of gold.
-And in the ocean I saw <i>your eyes</i>. You were
-with me, even if in thought you did not accompany
-me, yet you were there.</p>
-
-<p>I woke up and my gaze met yours. My
-eyes were too tired to see much. Yet I saw
-the yellow flowers swaying on their stalks.
-They had come back. They had, with their
-loving souls, borne me company at the time,
-and now they had come back. Close to my
-eyes they seemed to be perpetually singing
-and making music. Yes, you were with me.</p>
-
-<p>When the pain was most acute it was just as
-if they flew away, and dispersed at the sound
-of my groans. I quite understood it. They
-were like you. You, too, hate the thought of
-sickness. You, too, cannot bear people to be
-ill. So I tried to smile at them, and to act
-as if I did not feel the pain.</p>
-
-<p>... Your flowers ... your exquisite,
-blessed flowers....</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120"></a>[120]</span></p>
-
-<p>To-day is my birthday, and you are coming,
-yet I am not happy.</p>
-
-<p>All my best friends are coming. I shall sit
-at the same table as you! You will sit on my
-right hand, for you are the only one who
-comes for the first time. It is not wrong, it
-cannot be wrong. But if it is wrong, then
-punish me, let me suffer for it; I am ready.</p>
-
-<p>I said that I must rest before the guests arrive.
-I must be alone for a little to collect
-myself for the joy that is greater than joy.</p>
-
-<p>For my joy is more than bliss. There is
-nothing so great, there cannot be anything
-greater than my joy.</p>
-
-<p>The flowers are risen from the dead. The
-yellow butterfly blossoms.</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>I almost wish it was over. I don’t know
-myself what it is, but I wish it was over.</p>
-
-<p><i>That</i>, I wish over, and I don’t know what
-it is. I see something beyond the barrier,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121"></a>[121]</span>
-and I don’t see it. It is not death, but there
-is something that hurts more than death.</p>
-
-<p>And the evening was the happiest of my
-life.</p>
-
-<p>Perhaps it is nothing at all. Perhaps it
-is only my heart breaking for happiness, but
-can it hurt so much when one’s heart breaks
-for happiness?</p>
-
-<p>It was at the moment when you went out
-at the door. Magna Wellmann turned her
-head and said, “That was <i>the</i> evening of the
-year,” and you nodded. Then was it. It
-felt as if all my joy had suddenly been
-hemmed up in a coffin and couldn’t breathe.
-Henry asked, “Are you ill, you look so
-strange, and you have been beaming the
-whole evening as if you had light inside
-you....” That was true. I had light, yes,
-light burning within me, and now it is extinguished.</p>
-
-<p>I must gather myself together. I must
-cherish and hoard my happy evening. It is<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122"></a>[122]</span>
-wrong to think such things, but I am glad that
-Henry had to read the treatise this evening.
-I mean....</p>
-
-<p class="tb">You led me to the table. You sat on my
-right, and you were so calm. You are always
-so calm. Why should you not be calm, you
-are not in love.</p>
-
-<p>You invited me to drink, and I who never
-drink wine, drank with you, only a sip. It
-was ... no, I cannot speak of it. But now
-I understand that clergymen really believe it
-when they say, “This is the body and blood of
-Christ.”</p>
-
-<p>No one could read my thoughts.</p>
-
-<p>Now I know what it is that I have lacked
-hitherto, and I am glad that I have lacked it.</p>
-
-<p>You made a speech in my honour. It was
-so natural that you should. You led me to
-the table, and it was my birthday. For me it
-was a sacred miracle. The words you spoke
-have gone to sleep in my heart. When I die<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123"></a>[123]</span>
-one day in my coffin, and my children weep
-over me, they will arise and whisper and sing
-as your yellow flowers sang when I was ill.</p>
-
-<p>I hold so fast to my happiness. But my
-hands are weak, and it slips through them
-like running sand.</p>
-
-<p>The hours go as they came.</p>
-
-<p>Why do you rend my dream in twain?
-Why do you thrust a knife in my heart? I
-have never thought of being your mistress. I
-only grant you every delight there is. But why
-in this night, in this night, when I woke and
-clung to my happiness! When Magna Wellmann
-telephoned me to-day, I knew everything.
-She said nothing and I asked no
-questions.</p>
-
-<p>My yellow orchids hang on their stalks like
-dead butterflies. I have forgotten to give
-them water.</p>
-
-<p>Forgive me! I am not. I won’t be like
-this, and now it is over. It hurts no longer.
-I am well, like the little boy who was run<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_124"></a>[124]</span>
-over the day before yesterday. He cried and
-moaned that he was going to die, and all the
-time was quite unhurt.</p>
-
-<p>You walked over my heart, and I thought
-it must die, but there is nothing the matter
-with it.</p>
-
-<p class="tb">It is months since I wrote to you last; I
-simply felt I couldn’t. I have been like one
-scared. Why do people speak so often without
-thinking? One lets fall a word quite indifferently,
-that stabs the heart of another like a
-poisoned arrow. I have been half distracted
-by anxiety. I have listened to all the gossip.
-I am sick from disquietude. My youngest
-child has been ill, days and nights. I have
-watched beside him, expecting every hour that
-death would come, and yet in the middle of
-my fear of death my thoughts have been incessantly
-with you.</p>
-
-<p>I wouldn’t believe it.... But if it is true....
-Beloved, I am so saddened, I don’t know<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125"></a>[125]</span>
-whether I ought to tell you why, or whether
-you would tolerate my intruding into the
-habits of your daily life. But I am not only
-depressed, for if that was all I could bear it
-in silence. No, I am frightened, frightened,
-frightened. I cannot sleep for anxiety.</p>
-
-<p>You wrote last year to tell me yourself that
-your doctor had forbidden you to resort to
-the strong remedy which had become a necessity
-to you; that you were obeying, but suffering
-horrible pain in consequence. That first
-awakened my anxiety. Many, many times I
-felt as if I were running my head against the
-blank wall which separates life from death....
-And yet, it seemed to me that there was
-strength in the touch of your hands, strength
-that could grapple with any illness, strength
-in your hands, your glance, your smile. Then
-one day something happened that it took
-weeks to get out of my head. I sat with you
-and between us was built the usual bridge of
-kindness and confidence. Your smile came<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126"></a>[126]</span>
-over the bridge and met mine. We played
-with words as children in a meadow play with
-flowers. Your hand lay on mine so firmly and
-tenderly. I grasped at that moment why men
-honour so much the idea of a foundation stone.
-I felt my hand, too, was the corner-stone in
-an eternal building. So proud was I that
-your hand rested on mine, so sure, firmly and
-tenderly, and then suddenly, with such terrible
-suddenness, that my heart nearly stopped
-beating, your smile froze and died; your eyes
-became vacant, glazed; your face was not only
-strange—would it had only been that—it was
-so changed that you wouldn’t have recognised
-it yourself in the looking-glass.</p>
-
-<p>In that moment—I can’t say whether they
-were moments or minutes—you were not master
-of your body, neither were you ruler of
-your soul. And then you came to yourself.
-But I left you and cried. My tears were cold
-and made me freeze. Soon after I had to go
-away on a journey. Beloved, beloved, how<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127"></a>[127]</span>
-full of pain love is! Every day, every hour
-when I strolled in the garden among my
-flowers which I planted there myself, which
-stand there mysteriously waiting and watching
-for your coming, I saw before me a
-shadow that proceeded from my own distraught
-mind ... your dear face with the
-relaxed expression, and the glazed, fixed
-eye.</p>
-
-<p>The pain which I experienced then has been
-carried about in my heart for years, and was
-day by day increased and nourished by my
-anxiety.</p>
-
-<p>But then your letters came, like stars dropping
-from the sky in the still, dark night ...
-and once more I gained strength and courage
-to look life in the face. <i>Life</i>—that is what
-<i>you</i> are for me.</p>
-
-<p>I could fancy every one dying round me,
-even my own darling children, all that was
-near and dear to me; all that peoples the earth,
-and I could fancy the houses falling, day and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128"></a>[128]</span>
-night ceasing—but I cannot picture life without
-you.</p>
-
-<p>I cannot, and I <i>will not</i>....</p>
-
-<p class="tb">The summer passed, and with the falling
-leaves I returned to your neighbourhood.
-You were, to all appearances the same, only
-rather paler, rather softer in your manner.
-Your hands were the same, your lips sought
-mine. I asked you no questions. Dare any
-one call to the man walking on a rope over
-the abyss, whether he feels giddy? I asked
-you nothing. But others talked about you to
-me. And all, all said the same. Don’t you
-see how changed he is? And they spoke of
-the strong remedy that had become indispensable
-to you, of the remedy by the help of
-which you maintain your mask of mental
-equilibrium, a mask through whose holes your
-own tormented soul stares out into vacancy.</p>
-
-<p>Now I have come to it. I have come to
-it. Please do not be angry, or hurt, but let<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129"></a>[129]</span>
-me say what I can no longer carry about with
-me unsaid. Try if you cannot, slowly and by
-degrees, break yourself of the habit of resorting
-to means which, instead of strengthening,
-undermine your health. In the name of my
-love I ask you to do this, and you must not
-think that I ask for my sake alone. Then if it
-happened that I was going to die, and knew
-that I was going to die to-day, so that I should
-never see you, or hear your voice again, I
-should still make the same request. Why will
-you be kind to every one but to yourself? A
-doctor said to me about you—No, those are
-words that may not be repeated....</p>
-
-<p>Now say with a smile that I am conjuring
-up bogies, that my feelings have got the better
-of me, and perhaps you are right, but,
-beloved, death is not the worst. Do you understand
-me now?</p>
-
-<p>I sit here and write in the bright sunshine.
-My children play round my skirts, and chatter
-and ask me why I am crying....</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130"></a>[130]</span></p>
-
-<p>Well, now it is said, and now that I have
-said it, I dare not let you read what I have
-written.</p>
-
-<p>But I will keep this letter with the rest of
-<i>your</i> letters, with the letters which you have
-never received. Should the day ever come
-when I have sufficient courage you shall read
-it.</p>
-
-<p>Only this one, of all the letters.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131"></a>[131]</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak">AN UNSENT LETTER FROM LILI
-ROTHE TO PROFESSOR ROTHE.</h2>
-
-<p class="dropcap">Henry, I had on my mind to write to
-you and, for the last time, ask you to
-forgive me, but I know that it
-is no use. Perhaps your forgiveness could
-do me no good now. It is too late. I have
-suffered so much. I cannot bear more. But
-this letter contains nothing but the truth, and
-it is the last letter that I shall write.</p>
-
-<p>Henry, I have never denied my love for
-you. I have never forgotten you, and never
-deceived you. If I am to die now, because
-I long for the sleep, which while I live, cannot
-mercifully be granted to me, you must
-believe my poor last words.</p>
-
-<p>I don’t know whither I am going, but even
-if I knew for certain that I should reach the
-open gates of Paradise, I could not cross the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132"></a>[132]</span>
-threshold. So long as you had not forgiven
-me in your heart, eternal peace would not encompass
-me. And if I knew, he for whose
-sake I have caused you such great trouble that
-it casts a shadow behind and dims all that was
-once radiant and happy, if I knew that he was
-standing ready to receive me with those words
-which up till this hour I have never heard
-him utter, “Welcome, my beloved,” it would
-be impossible for me to follow him into everlasting
-bliss. Consciousness of guilt would
-prevent it.</p>
-
-<p>In the years when I loved you alone, I
-was happy; when he came into my life and I
-loved you both, my happiness increased with
-my love, and I did not feel guilty. I was so
-unspeakably happy. I loved you, and I loved
-him. You are a doctor, and when women
-are ill you can make them well, but for
-my sickness you had no panacea to prescribe.</p>
-
-<p>And I cannot do what you desire of me;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133"></a>[133]</span>
-I cannot say that my love for him is dead.
-Love cannot die, when once it has lived.</p>
-
-<p>Henry, when you took me back, I entreated
-you to ask me no questions, and you asked
-none. But your eyes asked and the walls
-asked, and everything round me asked questions.
-I do not wish to have any more secrets
-from you. Yet you never can understand
-what I am now going to say.</p>
-
-<p>He did not know me when I came to him,
-and he died without having recognised me.
-But it made me happy to be with him. When
-the others were asleep, and it was all quiet, I
-heard him mention a name. Not my name.
-He did not love me, you see. Every time he
-mentioned that other name I felt I was expiating
-some of my guilt towards you. I sat
-and listened, the nights were so long, but my
-name never came. The name of the one he
-loved, the names of others, but mine never.</p>
-
-<p>One night I fell asleep and dreamed that
-he called me. I awoke, and he lay dead.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134"></a>[134]</span>
-And now I shall never find out whether that
-was only a dream or something more.</p>
-
-<p>I have thought so much over the question
-whether other women are the same as I am.
-Were I strong enough I would go about and
-look till I found one who could tell me truthfully
-that she had loved two men, loved both
-with her whole heart and soul. I would then
-beg her to go to you and explain how that
-is something one cannot help, cannot fight
-against, and cannot kill.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135"></a>[135]</span></p>
-
-<p class="dropcap">My nun has espoused a husband, and I
-have been to call on the young couple.
-He has only one eye, is superannuated,
-and has warts in his ears. He is a
-hod carrier. When she contemplates him she
-feels as if heaven were opening before her.</p>
-
-<p>She comes from a good family, and has had
-a good education; he is ignorant and stupid,
-but he seems to appreciate her adoration. I
-had a ticket for “Lohengrin” this evening, but
-I am not inclined to go.</p>
-
-<p>After all, I can understand it. Once I
-should have thought it silly, but my ideas have
-undergone a change. When I reflect on it
-there is really only one condition that can be
-called unhappy, and that is loneliness. Loneliness
-on a desert island, loneliness in a great
-city, loneliness in married life.... Loneliness.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136"></a>[136]</span></p>
-
-<p>For this reason all living beings crowd together.
-The animals seek each other. The
-faded leaves, as they flutter down from the
-trees, wed in the hour of their destruction.</p>
-
-<p>She feels that she has been cheated for all
-the years of her convent life, has loved without
-an object. She has cast off her shackles,
-and achieved her liberty. The thought of a
-joint life with some one, that she may have
-pined for vaguely in the convent, became, out
-in the world, the highest thing to aim at. In
-her excessive modesty she humbly accepted
-the first thing that offered. Surely there is
-nothing ridiculous in that.</p>
-
-<p>But I am alone. I am solitary.</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>God in heaven, what have I done? There
-he lies asleep, as if he were never going to
-wake. Such a little gnome. But I couldn’t
-do anything else, and behind all my anxiety
-and fidgetting I have a feeling that for the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137"></a>[137]</span>
-first time in my life I have done what is right.</p>
-
-<p>For it was not unpremeditated, or was it?
-Do I know? A transformation has been going
-on lately within me. But when did it
-begin, and where will it lead me? If I only
-had some one whom I could consult, but there
-is no one. I have broken all my old ties. I
-stand quite alone. Even Jeanne.... Jeanne
-must be told as soon as possible, but, of course,
-she will think it is nothing except one of my
-whims in which I indulge to kill time.</p>
-
-<p>When I ask myself deep down in my heart
-why I did it, there is no answer, and, meanwhile,
-the boy is lying in my bed. I have
-slept an hour or two here on this chair without
-knowing it. The windows are wide open,
-yet every minute I inhale a horrible smell of
-spirits ... a little boy of seven! How am I
-to know whether he is seven, five, or nine?</p>
-
-<p>I must collect myself. This hour may decide
-the whole course of my life. I have only
-to hold the telephone receiver to my ear, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138"></a>[138]</span>
-directly the house-porter will call in the police.
-Before noon the boy will be gone, and
-I shall never see him again.</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>Why should it concern me? It would be
-sheer folly if I gave way to a sickly sentimentality
-and wished to keep this small tramp.
-Small as he is, he seems to be endowed with
-every vice.</p>
-
-<p>I feel as if I had dreamed it all, and not
-seen it with my eyes.... And it all comes of
-my freak of using the subway under the river
-instead of taking a motor. What induced me
-to waste time in that fashion? I who, of all
-others, detest subterranean zigzagging?</p>
-
-<p>Was it a presentment? Did I expect a sensation,
-and wish to gloat over the sight of
-roofless night-wanderers, who for five cents
-travel backwards and forwards by this route
-all day? One’s way of living and thinking
-is different in New York from what it is in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139"></a>[139]</span>
-great European capitals. We don’t follow
-each other like sheep. We think more for
-ourselves.</p>
-
-<p>I felt so tired inwardly on the journey, so
-utterly without an anchor. I tried to fall
-asleep before we reached the river to escape
-hearing the ghastly rushing sound in the air
-behind. The boy had seen me at once. I believe
-I inspired him with a certain awe. My
-clothes probably were too smart for him.</p>
-
-<p>He hurled himself past me without calling
-out rude words, or making grimaces. I could
-not take my eyes off him. At first I thought
-it was one of the dwarfs out of the Hippodrome,
-and I squirmed with disgust. Then
-I saw that it was a child. A child sick with
-a fever which his senses could not master. I,
-like the other passengers, thought him mad,
-till we grasped what was the matter with
-him.</p>
-
-<p>He jumped on ladies’ laps, and spat in their
-faces; he kicked gentlemen’s legs violently<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140"></a>[140]</span>
-with his heels. When the guard caught hold
-of his wrists and commanded him to be quiet,
-he bit the man so hard he was obliged to let
-him go. At the next station he was ejected.
-But directly the train was in motion again, he
-swung himself on to the car, and this process
-was repeated at every station. No one knew
-how to cope with him; no one knew where he
-came from, or to whom he belonged. Suddenly
-he began to sing, what, I couldn’t understand,
-but from the expression on the faces of
-the men present, and from his own gestures,
-I gathered that it was something indecent.</p>
-
-<p>How shall I describe my feelings? Were
-they prompted by horror, repulsion, or compassion?
-I must try to analyse them clearly....
-I felt as if I had brought this wretched
-creature into the world, as if I were responsible
-for him. I experienced a mother’s
-agony and a mother’s boundless tenderness.</p>
-
-<p>Directly it became plain to me that the
-child was not speaking in the delirium of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141"></a>[141]</span>
-fever, but of drunkenness, I had to bite my
-lips till they bled, so as not to cry out. Then
-the boy came to me, and threw himself across
-my lap. There he stayed, nestling his head
-against me, and went to sleep.</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>Were I to act now sensibly and as common
-reason demanded, I should send the child
-back whence he came, though I don’t know in
-the least where that is.... The child who
-has awakened the most sacred feeling in my
-poor, withered heart.... The child who is
-to blame for my having shed, for the first time
-in my life, tears of joy.</p>
-
-<p>When I offered to take Jeanne’s child, I
-had my reasons at my fingers’ ends, but they
-were not honourable ones. I wanted to start
-for myself an interest in life. I started from
-the hypothesis that what filled the lives of so
-many women might equally well fill mine. I
-wanted to take Jeanne’s child, in the same way<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142"></a>[142]</span>
-as five years before I had taken her ... as
-an experiment, a distraction.</p>
-
-<p>But it was not so to-night. This small boy
-had kissed my hands, and I had blessed him.</p>
-
-<p>I have heard somewhere of a holy man who
-met once a little child who was tired. He
-lifted him on to his shoulders and carried him
-over a river, but on the way the child grew
-and became heavier and heavier, while the
-man sank deeper and deeper.... All that,
-however, doesn’t matter.</p>
-
-<p>I took him home with me. Here you can
-do what you like. My proceeding excited no
-remark. A stranger asked if he should fetch
-me a carriage, and we drove home.</p>
-
-<p>I must, of course, make inquiries about his
-antecedents. He says nothing himself. He
-woke up when I struck a light, but he wouldn’t
-tell me his name even. The people in the
-train thought he was one of those outcast children
-without parents who live from hand to
-mouth by selling newspapers, and stealing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_143"></a>[143]</span>
-from the banana carts, and who pass the night
-on the river’s bank or in empty wagons.</p>
-
-<p>I haven’t succeeded yet in getting his boots
-off. Though they have evidently once belonged
-to a grown-up, they are so tightly laced
-on his little legs that they can only be moved
-by cutting. He must have worn them day
-and night for months.</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>What will be the end of it? I daren’t
-think, and I daren’t act. I keep saying to myself
-without ceasing, the same thing, “Suppose
-he is taken away from me?” and I seem
-to see into the future, his life ending in crime,
-his death taking place in prison.</p>
-
-<p>I intend to sacrifice my own life for this
-child’s ... but is that sufficient? Can that
-avert his fate?</p>
-
-<p>My beautiful, beautiful boy! He is asleep.
-I have locked both doors and sit with the key
-in my pocket. Every quarter of an hour I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_144"></a>[144]</span>
-look in at him; he smiles in his sleep as only
-innocent children smile. Then suddenly he
-clenches his little fists and his mouth becomes
-so distorted and ugly that I have to turn away.
-What can he be dreaming about?</p>
-
-<p>Help me, help! To whom am I praying?
-I, who am without faith, and without hope.
-But I am not without love. No longer without
-love; for I love this poor, miserable child.</p>
-
-<p>Could I but give him back his innocence!...
-Has he never been innocent like other
-children? Was he contaminated from the
-first by the two creatures who gave him life?
-Is it in my power to atone for others’ sins
-against him?</p>
-
-<p>I wonder why he tried to run away to-day?
-Where did he want to go, and what was in his
-mind? If I had not got him back, God
-knows, I could not have faced another day.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145"></a>[145]</span></p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>I sat with him on my lap, and he looked up
-at me as if he would ask, “What are you going
-to do with me?”</p>
-
-<p>His childish gaze was so suspicious and
-hard. I told him that I wanted to be his
-mother and to live for nothing else but to
-make him happy. All the time his little
-hands were feeling about to find my pocket.
-I pretended not to see, and smiling angelically,
-he plunged his hand after my purse, and
-began to fidget with it till it opened. My
-heart beat so that I could hear it distinctly
-resound in my ears.</p>
-
-<p>Is it to be wondered at that he steals? He
-has known what it is to starve. But now I
-give him everything that heart can desire. I
-have bought him a little purse of his own, and
-filled it with money. Yet still his tiny face
-retains its expression of desperate greed when
-he sees me take out money. When will this
-alter?</p>
-
-<p>And he asks me if I have bought him. Or<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146"></a>[146]</span>
-have been given money to keep him. He
-does not remember that blessed, thousandfold
-blessed, night when he took my heart by
-storm, and transformed me into a real human
-being....</p>
-
-<p>I wanted to test him, so to-day I went without
-lunch, explaining to him that I had no
-more money, but he was to eat, I could go
-without it. He nodded, and without troubling
-about me at all, ate up his lunch.</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>Kelly. That’s his name. Kelly! or he
-says it’s his name. He has been with me now
-for six days, and only to-day he told me what
-he was called. Well, it is at least a beginning.
-I am thankful for little.</p>
-
-<p>I dare not hesitate any longer. If I could,
-I would travel off with him like a thief with
-his booty, even if somewhere a mother sat and
-wept for him. No, no! I wouldn’t rob a
-mother of her child. But I needn’t be afraid.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147"></a>[147]</span>
-Kelly’s whole bearing tells me that he has
-been for a long, long time alone in the world.
-Enquiries will be only a matter of form, and
-then I can adopt him properly. He will be
-mine by law.</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>It is quite a matter of indifference to me if
-people shake their heads at my insane action.
-How should they know that Kelly alone, only
-this boy with the vicious little face and criminal
-glance is the source of all my bliss and
-riches in this life? But it distresses me when
-people talk about it in his presence, and I
-cannot prevent them shaking their heads.
-Kelly understands what they mean. He seems
-conscious that his brow is branded with the
-mark of Cain.</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>To-morrow we are going to the Children’s
-Court; I have written to Mr. Rander. He<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148"></a>[148]</span>
-is said to be one of the cleverest child-psychologists
-in America.</p>
-
-<p>He has replied that I need cherish no fears.
-So long as my love is sufficiently great ...
-my love.... Yes, my love is great enough
-to bear the strain.</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>Why had that to happen just to-day, when
-I was feeling in such good heart? It’s only a
-trifle, certainly. He may not have thought
-what he was doing.</p>
-
-<p>It’s a necessity of children’s nature to be destructive.
-They are cruel without being conscious
-of it. What, after all, do I care about
-the stupid cacti? I would have made him a
-present of all of them. But it was the glance
-of his! The sly, uncanny glance when I said,
-“But, Kelly, why have you cut my flowers in
-pieces?”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149"></a>[149]</span></p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>I am doing it entirely on my own responsibility.
-I should do it, even if the whole
-world cried out, “Leave it alone, it will prove
-your ruin!” I should do it. Even if I could
-see into the future, and behold my boy a full-fledged
-criminal sentenced to death.... I
-consecrate my life to him, my poor, squandered
-life. But it isn’t poor now. I am rich.
-I am a mother!</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>Mr. Rander meant well, I daresay, when he
-said, “Don’t do it. Take any of them, only
-not him!” And he related what he knew.</p>
-
-<p>As if a single spoken phrase could dissolve
-the bond my heart has entered into voluntarily.</p>
-
-<p>“Born, double-dyed criminal.” Nevertheless,
-I will educate myself to be a worthy
-mother to him.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150"></a>[150]</span></p>
-
-<p class="dropcap"><span class="smcap">Dear Magna Wellmann</span>,</p>
-
-<p>“From earth thou comest, to earth
-thou shalt return....” These words
-of Scripture occurred to me when I read your
-letter. That is the eternal circle ... in this
-case the circle of your family. Your grandfather
-was a renegade from the calling of his
-forefathers when he became a townsman.
-Your father degenerated, and now you have
-gone back to the land.</p>
-
-<p>Magna, Magna, I admire you. Of course,
-I am heart and soul for the enterprise. In
-this manner my money will become a breathing,
-living entity, doing its own work, and
-reaping its own reward. Don’t talk about being
-cautious. I am running no risks. I
-know what I am about. Your lawyer’s letter
-informs me in business language that the undertaking
-is “sound,” besides I am not giving
-the whole or even half the capital.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151"></a>[151]</span></p>
-
-<p>I need no assurances that you will carry the
-thing through. But read before you begin
-a little book by Flaubert. I don’t mind betting
-you have never heard of it. It is called,
-“Bouvard et Pécuchet.” A prospective
-agriculturist can learn a good deal from it.
-It’s splendid that Jarl is so keen on farming.
-But you won’t surely let him put his hand to
-the plough, and work in the fields from the
-start, will you? The boy is only seventeen,
-and I hope, too, that his mother isn’t going
-to begin at once digging turnips and milking
-cows. I should not care to set foot in a cow-shed—it’s
-a thing I have never done. But
-all the same I shall enjoy having letters yards
-long about all your first experiments and
-blunders.</p>
-
-<p>You mustn’t take it too much to heart that
-Agnete is cool towards you. The poor child
-has a dash of prudishness in her, inherited
-from her mother! When she has children of
-her own she will be different.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152"></a>[152]</span></p>
-
-<p>Your account of the scandal was rich! Especially
-do I like that remark of a friend,
-“She might at least have had the tact to say
-that it was an adopted child.” I read between
-the lines that you have not passed
-through this humiliation without it’s having
-left scars behind. But, Magna, nothing is in
-vain. You can afford to pay the cost of your
-happiness. I am reminded of a little story
-about you which used to be told in our “set.”
-It related to the way in which you conquered
-Professor Wellmann’s heart. You were at a
-party, and had been so bored you had spoken
-to no one. There was something to drink in
-big, tall glasses. Suddenly in an ebullition
-of superfluous strength you bit the glass with
-your teeth and bit a piece out of it. Professor
-Wellmann sat with distended eyes and
-open mouth, and watched you.</p>
-
-<p>And on his way out of the house he remarked
-to a not very discreet friend, “She, the
-girl who bit the glass, shall be my wife!”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153"></a>[153]</span></p>
-
-<p>The story may or may not be true, but it
-is characteristic of you all the same.</p>
-
-<p>I can see you in hobnail boots, and a smock,
-tramping over the fields, superintending the
-plough and the breeding of cattle.</p>
-
-<p>I have very little to tell about myself.
-Since I linked my fate to Kelly’s I live in a
-new world. Every day that goes by I come
-nearer to myself, but I cannot write about it.
-It is too sacred a subject. Troubles which
-were unknown to me before have taken up
-their continued abode within me, but joys
-which were equally strange keep watch over
-me with drawn swords. Magna, I ask you,
-can the woman who has brought her own
-child into the world experience greater bliss
-and greater torment than I, to whom my boy
-was given by chance?</p>
-
-<p>With a thousand loving remembrances,</p>
-
-<p class="center">Your</p>
-
-<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Elsie Lindtner</span>.</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154"></a>[154]</span></p>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p class="right"><span class="smcap">The White Villa.</span></p>
-
-<p class="dropcap"><span class="smcap">Dear Jeanne</span>,</p>
-
-<p>As you will see from this heading,
-we are now at home again.</p>
-
-<p><i>We</i>, and at <i>home</i> again!</p>
-
-<p>My home is where Kelly is, and Denmark
-was never his home. But for his sake, I have
-uprooted once more. I did not think such
-a big, big town was good for him. The island
-here is certainly small enough.</p>
-
-<p>Oh, if you could see how it looks now! I
-was determined to be the first with Kelly to
-enter the house, since you and I left it together,
-how many years ago?</p>
-
-<p>The carpets were in tatters. The window
-panes were beaten in, either by the wind or
-vagabonds. Dead leaves and dead flies lay
-about the floors. My beautiful pieces of
-furniture were mildewed from damp ...<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155"></a>[155]</span>
-one or two of the chairs had collapsed; the
-chintz coverings were moth-eaten. My bedroom—my
-ridiculous bedroom—was the most
-deplorable of all. It must have been struck
-by lightning, otherwise I don’t understand
-how the mirrors got smashed, and the rain and
-snow lay congealed on my bed.</p>
-
-<p>Kelly laughed, and rushed from room to
-room, and in the end I laughed, too. Then
-Kelly got hold of the mad idea that instead of
-putting up at the inn, we should turn in here
-the first night. I half think he contemplated
-a sort of burglarious attempt on the deserted
-house. I yielded, of course. Never in my
-life have I seen any one more industrious and
-handy than this boy when he likes. He ran
-about pumping water and sweeping floors,
-and made all straight, God knows how. Tea
-was prepared! ante-diluvian sugar and a canister
-of Albert biscuits. He ushered me into
-the large parlour where my piano, my poor,
-wretched, beautiful piano, had been standing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156"></a>[156]</span>
-all these years, the prey of wind and rain, till
-it hasn’t a sound left in its body from
-hoarseness—and then he brought in the tea.
-I won’t go so far as to say that it tasted clean
-or nice, and the biscuits were musty, but
-Kelly’s hand had prepared it.</p>
-
-<p>And we slept together in the same bed, in
-your bed, Jeanne, in yours! It was the only
-one in which the blankets were dry. I
-wanted to lie on a sofa with a rug, but Kelly
-would cuddle up beside me.</p>
-
-<p>Jeanne, I—really I, your fond, old travelling
-companion, am now once more “at
-home,” and I lay awake the whole night
-thinking over my happiness.</p>
-
-<p>Kelly slept in my arm, and my arm, of
-course, went to sleep, but no other part of me
-slept ... and Kelly woke with my arm
-round him.</p>
-
-<p>Then we went to “The Jug,” and put up
-there for a fortnight till the whole place was
-made habitable. I have no Jeanne—I do my<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157"></a>[157]</span>
-own hair, and make myself beautiful for my
-boy. Alack! it is hard work to inspire him
-with any desire to make himself presentable.</p>
-
-<p>I am thinking of finding a tutor for him.
-He ought not to be allowed to run wild and
-devour sensational American novelettes—of
-which there are none in Denmark—and remain
-ignorant of all other subjects.</p>
-
-<p>Forgive me, Jeanne, but I have only one
-thought, and that is Kelly. He fills my life
-at all points, so that everything else now has
-to give way to him.</p>
-
-<p>He has a craze for collecting snails and
-slugs, which he brings into the house and lets
-crawl about on the white window-sills. I
-must own it makes a horrible mess, but Kelly
-may do anything. Only I draw the line at
-helping him to collect his snails, for, much
-as I should like to oblige him, it is too disgusting.</p>
-
-<p>Now in exchange for these confidences, tell
-me all your news. It was indeed a piece of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158"></a>[158]</span>
-good fortune that Malthe’s design took the
-prize. And in Paris, too! You will, I suppose,
-stay there the two years. Or are you
-still the incorrigible nomads who prefer to
-travel about with your houses on your backs,
-with your trunks and perambulator—to
-settling down quietly in a refined, comfortable
-home. Don’t work yourself to shreds,
-Jeanne. Remember that life is long, and that
-you mustn’t grow old and ugly. I concluded
-that you are doing everything in your power
-fairly to spoil your excellent husband. You
-go to market. You pack the boxes, take the
-tickets, and accompany your husband to the
-museums where you make drawings for him,
-and you look after the children. Jeanne!
-Jeanne! take thought for your hair, and be
-careful of your hands.</p>
-
-<p>And don’t forget your happy <i>home</i>-flown
-friend,</p>
-
-<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Elsie Lindtner</span>.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159"></a>[159]</span></p>
-
-<p class="tb noindent"><span class="smcap">Dear Good Magna</span>,</p>
-
-<p>That this notion should have occurred to
-you, and that you should have the courage to
-carry it out—. But ought I to offer up this
-sacrifice to you, and can I relinquish Kelly?
-The last few nights have been long and sleepless;
-only when dawn begins to glimmer can
-I bring my confused thoughts into any order,
-and then it seems as if I had found a solution
-which is the right one. I fall asleep, and
-when I wake up again, everything is as unsettled
-as ever.</p>
-
-<p>I don’t know my way in or out. Magna,
-it’s not selfishness which makes me dread letting
-Kelly out of my hands—the day does not
-seem far off when I shall be forced to live under
-another roof from that which shelters him,
-and that is why I don’t want to die.</p>
-
-<p>My every thought is dedicated to him for
-whom and with whom I now live, and so I
-will continue to live without complaint so<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160"></a>[160]</span>
-long as life is granted me. I have looked it
-all in the face, and have recoiled, shuddering,
-at the petrifying horror of impossibilities, but
-I have made my resolve. So long as I inhabit
-the earth Kelly has a human being who
-stands in the place of mother to him.</p>
-
-<p>I am not afraid to make any sacrifices. I
-shrink only from the thought of shirking the
-responsibility. From the day Kelly came
-into my life I have made myself answerable
-for his actions and conduct. Would it not be
-cowardice and treachery if I now said, “The
-yoke has become too burdensome, now I will
-shunt it on to the shoulders of another”?</p>
-
-<p>And yet, Magna, your plan seems to me the
-one possibility of salvation.</p>
-
-<p>Before I express my hearty thanks, and confide
-my boy to your care, I must tell you something
-which I have been compelled to keep to
-myself till now. Kelly has before been taken
-care of by others. By force of circumstances.
-He tried—remember he was only nine years<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161"></a>[161]</span>
-old—to burn me. Of course no one suspected
-him, otherwise the police would
-not have been asked to investigate the affair,
-but then it was brought to light, and he was
-taken away from me. I could have murdered
-them for taking him.... It is hard,
-even now, years after, to talk about it. My
-one idea was to find a means of getting him
-back. In America everything possible is
-done to save children whose feet are set on
-the downward path to crime. And it is done
-with a tenderness and love which is marvellous,
-but I didn’t know it. I thought of what
-I had read in the papers at home about reformatories
-for children, about floggings and
-starvation, and lockings-up in dark cellars.
-I was ready to help Kelly to escape till the
-first time that they gave me permission to visit
-him.</p>
-
-<p>There was no wall round the institution,
-not even a railing. The main building
-abutted on the high road, and from there you<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162"></a>[162]</span>
-could see the heaps of smaller red houses resembling
-a town of villas.</p>
-
-<p>As I came up to the inspector’s dwelling, I
-was almost run down by a crowd of boys
-headed by a small negro, who were having a
-race.</p>
-
-<p>Just as I entered the door, I heard an outcry
-which made my heart stand still. I
-thought it was one of the boys being punished.
-But the inspector showed me from the window
-what the noise meant. The boys were
-playing at fire, and at that moment they were
-letting the hose play on the inspector’s house.
-My little Kelly—in oilskins and a helmet on
-his head—held the hose.</p>
-
-<p>And I was told that of the six hundred boys
-who are in the reformatory many of them on
-account of gross misconduct, for which but
-for their tender years, they would have been
-sentenced to a long period of imprisonment,
-not a single one had been guilty of doing anything
-wrong during his detention here. Punishments<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163"></a>[163]</span>
-such as thrashing and being put on
-bread and water and under arrest, simply do
-not exist. The boys live in their little villas,
-twelve in a batch, under the supervision of
-a pair of foster-parents. The only punishment
-is that a boy who has been disobedient or
-lazy gets no cake at five o’clock tea, and is not
-given permission to sit with the others at the
-large flower-decked table, but has to sit alone
-at a small table. And he mayn’t lie before
-the fire at dusk and listen to fairy-tales.</p>
-
-<p>No mother could have had more delightful
-letters from her child than I had from
-Kelly during that year. If I had only been
-as wise then as I am now, I should have let
-him stay there as long as the inspector would
-have kept him.</p>
-
-<p>All the small “prisoners” were taught in
-succession various industries which they
-might choose themselves. I saw them baking,
-ironing, washing, carving, carpentering,
-binding books, making clothes, and toys, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164"></a>[164]</span>
-I saw them planting trees, ploughing, and,
-Magna, I saw them milking cows. But I was
-a foolish mother. I didn’t want my boy
-brought up to a trade; I imagined it was my
-duty to develop his great gifts in a different
-direction.</p>
-
-<p>So after a year he was sent back to me.
-But the inspector warned me that there would
-be a lapse. In two months it came. Kelly
-disappeared. I tore about like a maniac hunting
-for him everywhere. I don’t believe
-there was a beer-cellar, a common lodging-house,
-or a thieves’ kitchen that I didn’t
-search. He was traced through the scar on
-his forehead, and I recovered him. But
-how?</p>
-
-<p>The Kelly who for twelve months had been
-living a model life among six hundred little
-abandoned chaps, had plotted with a group
-of homeless playmates to commit a crime so
-diabolical and remorseless that at first I refused
-to believe his brain could have hatched<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165"></a>[165]</span>
-it. By the train between Philadelphia and
-New York travels every day a crowd of millionaires
-who come to do their business on the
-Stock Exchange. The other boys were,
-through all sorts of tricks, to distract the attention
-of the signalman while Kelly was to
-switch on the signals so that another train
-would come into collision with the train from
-Philadelphia. After the collision they meant
-to plunder the dead bodies!</p>
-
-<p>It’s true, Magna; now say, no! you dare not
-take Kelly under your roof to associate with
-Oluf. I can’t help it, it was my duty to tell
-you all. My friend, Judge Rander, in Children’s
-Court, helped me in every way. He
-procured for me leave to travel with Kelly
-out of the country on a verbal and written
-oath that I would never bring him back.
-That is why I lived two years, summer and
-winter, in my White Villa with Kelly and a
-tutor. I was afraid to let him come near the
-town, and yet the child needed companions.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166"></a>[166]</span>
-So at last I ventured to migrate to a town,
-with the result that Kelly in two years was expelled
-from three schools. Can you still have
-the courage, Magna, to let the innocent child,
-offspring of your heart, become Kelly’s playfellow?
-And if you are so courageous, how
-shall I be able to exonerate myself if you
-come to me one day and say, “Kelly has corrupted
-my boy”?</p>
-
-<p>I put the words into your mouth, Magna.</p>
-
-<p>Say no, while there is still time. You are
-strong, stronger than any other woman I
-know, since you have found yourself again
-through strenuous exertion and labour. But
-there are powers that the strongest cannot conquer.</p>
-
-<p>Behind my fears about your saying yes, lies
-the burning wish that you will, but how shall
-I ever find words to thank you?</p>
-
-<p>Of course, I realise what it will mean if
-Kelly from now onwards takes up his abode
-with you, and directly after his confirmation<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167"></a>[167]</span>
-leaves off school. It’s not what Kelly is
-to be, but <i>how</i> he becomes what he is, that is
-going to be for me the main question. I fold
-my hands in my lap, and I confess my powerlessness.</p>
-
-<p>Make Kelly a man. Make Kelly a good
-man.</p>
-
-<p>You will understand, Magna, that I could
-not say all this if we stood face to face.
-While I have been writing Kelly has been
-several times to the door. He wants to know
-what I am doing. Every time I feel tempted
-to lay down my pen to enjoy his society. He
-asked me the other day, “Mother, do you believe
-that people’s fate is pre-ordained?”
-What could he have meant by it? I dared
-not ask him. He went on his knees, buried
-his head in my lap, and cried bitterly.</p>
-
-<p>Magna, don’t keep me long in uncertainty.
-At least promise me that.</p>
-
-<p class="center">Your</p>
-
-<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Elsie Lindtner</span>.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_168"></a>[168]</span></p>
-
-<p class="tb">I have begun to darn Kelly’s stockings.
-Why did I never think of it before?</p>
-
-<p>He was whitewashing the attic with
-Magna, and I saw that one of his stockings
-was without a heel. I actually blushed, I
-felt so ashamed. The boy, of course, doesn’t
-trouble about such trifles, and Magna, splendid
-creature, has enough to do. I don’t believe
-she would mind a bit going about with
-holes in her own stockings.</p>
-
-<p>In the country it doesn’t matter so much,
-but still—</p>
-
-<p>She simply laughed at me when I asked to
-be allowed to look after his clothes, and I
-didn’t quite know how to explain why I
-wanted to do it. But Magna is so clever, and
-when I was seated comfortably she brought
-me out a whole bundle. She has done the
-same for her own children. I am convinced
-that she would not let any one else darn Oluf’s
-stockings.</p>
-
-<p>I don’t find it easy. I have quite forgotten<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_169"></a>[169]</span>
-the proper way of doing it, which I learnt at
-school. And I haven’t thought anything
-about darning stockings since.</p>
-
-<p>But I take no end of trouble, and it is a
-wonderful feeling to sit out here on the
-balcony with a whole pile of big, big stockings
-in front of me—Kelly has positively a
-gigantic foot. My dear little balcony. It’s
-to me what an airship is for young, impatient
-folks. I sit so serenely in my charming, soft
-seat, between sweet-peas and nasturtiums, and
-beneath me streams by the current of life with
-its men and beasts.</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>It amuses me to see how skilfully Richard’s
-eldest can drive an automobile. If only he
-can avoid accidents.</p>
-
-<p>Richard himself is aging, but his little
-wife sits so upright in the car. She wears
-well.</p>
-
-<p>Since Richard caught sight of me one day<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_170"></a>[170]</span>
-by chance he always looks up and bows, and
-then we all bow, ... I overhear the lanky
-youth say, “Papa, we are passing your old
-wife,” and then they laugh.</p>
-
-<p>Yes, I should like to see the home in the old
-Market Place once more. Probably I should
-hardly recognise it, or perhaps Richard, from
-long habit, has kept things much the same.</p>
-
-<p>The eldest son is to succeed to the business,
-of course, but the second looks to me so dandified.
-I know this for certain that none of
-Richard’s sons will ever work out in the fields
-in clogs and woollen shirts. And their
-mother will never have the joy of darning
-stockings with holes in them as big as goose’s
-eggs. While I sit with a pair of these coarse,
-huge, manly socks in which my hand is absolutely
-drowned, I feel to the full extent a
-mother’s glorious rights. I only wish the
-holes were double the size, so that the time
-they take to mend lasted longer.</p>
-
-<p>I have been and bought the pan for cooking<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_171"></a>[171]</span>
-oxeyes in, and I have promised Kelly and
-Oluf that every time they come they shall
-have oxeyes baked in butter. Magna
-requires nothing but her horrid nut-suet which
-has no flavour. She alone can eat it. Dear,
-dear boys.</p>
-
-<p class="tb noindent"><span class="smcap">Dear Agnete</span>,</p>
-
-<p>It was well that you wrote to me this time,
-and not to your mother. You are not to
-trouble her with your unhappy affairs, do you
-understand? Every time that she gets a letter
-from you she shuts herself up and cries.
-Lately I have read quite a number of your
-letters, and I must confess that I was not
-pleased with them.</p>
-
-<p>At one time you presumed to sit in judgment
-on your mother’s life, and now you
-blame her because yours is a failure. You
-have no right to do it.</p>
-
-<p>You cannot justly lay your married wretchedness
-at either your mother’s or your husband’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_172"></a>[172]</span>
-door. Its origin is to be sought in a
-train of circumstances. You must know,
-though you seem to have forgotten it, that it
-was not your mother who gave in to your desire
-to go to the French Convent School. It
-was my doing that you went. I sent you for
-her peace of mind’s sake.</p>
-
-<p>That you have married a Catholic while
-you yourself are a Protestant is no one’s fault
-but your own, as you did not ask anybody’s
-permission. Unfortunately you have inherited
-from your mother a hysterical temperament,
-and from your father a certain matter-of-factness
-which prevents your enjoying life.</p>
-
-<p>I feel compelled to act like a surgeon who
-undertakes a necessary operation, in spite of
-the patient’s objection to scars.</p>
-
-<p>The only time your husband was here on a
-visit I was able to get a certain impression of
-his character. You are right in saying that
-he is “dangerous to women through the animal
-magnetism which radiates from his person, attracting<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_173"></a>[173]</span>
-to him adults and children alike.”
-And you might add, “through his natural
-amiability and his kindliness.” He makes no
-disguise of his vanity, but when you plume
-yourself on being his only chick because you
-alone resist him, you are adopting a dangerous
-line. The man who wishes to be worshipped
-will not be discouraged by superior airs,
-especially when these are put on, and you
-merely feign opposition in order to annoy
-him, and to conceal how much you are in love.</p>
-
-<p>Owing to the position he holds he is the
-centre of much attention. He is unable, like
-most men, to diverge from the high road.
-Every movement of his is noticed, and may
-cause him unpleasantness. Thus his position
-forces him to be cautious. Yet you as his
-loving wife accuse him of giving to every
-woman what ought to be your position alone.</p>
-
-<p>Your want of trust puts him on the rack.
-You pluck his nerves to pieces, and dissect
-his secret thoughts. You hate him for not<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_174"></a>[174]</span>
-being unfaithful to you in deed in that you
-suspect continually that he is unfaithful to
-you in thought. You hurt him by telling him
-constantly that your mutual life is animal and
-savage, that he lacks soul, and does not comprehend
-what it is to love with the soul
-as you do. He retorts by calling you hysterical.</p>
-
-<p>Then a young girl comes to stay in your
-house. She falls in love with your husband,
-and he is in love with her. You say, “She
-made a dead set at him.” Instead of deciding
-to remove her immediately you watch for
-proofs of the criminal relations which you
-suspect. I don’t condemn you for getting
-hold of your husband’s letters by any means
-honourable or the reverse, because jealous
-wives are as irresponsible for their actions as
-patients with a temperature of a hundred and
-six. You triumph and cause yourself diabolical
-torments by revelling in the stolen
-love-letters. You find in them the “psychological”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_175"></a>[175]</span>
-impulse that you have missed in your
-husband’s love.</p>
-
-<p>What ought you to do now? Either you
-must go, as you cannot stay with a man who
-is in love with another; or you must remain
-and leave him and his feelings in peace.
-Nonsense! Instead you thrust a dagger
-into his heart and turn it in the wound. If
-he moans, you ask, “Do you still love
-her?”</p>
-
-<p>You think that love can be wrenched out
-of a man’s life as easily as a tooth is drawn,
-root and all.</p>
-
-<p>Agony brings your husband to reason and
-his senses, he belies what he feels and cries,
-“I love no one but you!” But even then can
-you leave him alone? Certainly not. You
-now insist on his telling everything, betraying
-and deceiving. You know, as a Catholic, he
-cannot claim a divorce, and yet you ask if he
-will marry her in the case of your retiring?
-Not a word of this offer do you intend seriously.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_176"></a>[176]</span>
-You want to humiliate and torment
-him.</p>
-
-<p>Next you make a scene with the girl, pervert
-his words about her, misapply your
-knowledge, and use such expressions as “Impurity,
-lies, vulgarity.” But she only answers,
-“I love him, I cannot do anything else.”
-And you find this exasperating.</p>
-
-<p>Not once has it occurred to you to set your
-husband free. He belongs to you, he is in
-your power. You begin all over again. You
-haven’t an hour’s rest because you must spy
-on all his actions. You reproach him for
-being a Catholic. His baseness is trebled because
-he is Catholic—as if lies had anything
-to do with articles of faith.</p>
-
-<p>You are leading a pretty life! Then your
-husband falls ill. For a long time he has
-complained of a tumour in his chest. “If it
-grows it’ll have to be removed for it may be
-cancer.” This is a trifling matter, or you
-inwardly triumph over it as “a judgment.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_177"></a>[177]</span></p>
-
-<p>One morning he leaves the house on business.
-He takes leave of you tenderly and
-comes back over and over again to kiss you
-with emotion. You at once suspect deceit,
-and heap reproaches on him for intending to
-do something behind your back. He smiles
-sadly and says, “If that is so you will soon
-hear what it is.”</p>
-
-<p>At mid-day you have a “vision,” if what
-you write is true. You see him lying on the
-operating table. You telephone to the hospital
-and learn that the operation has taken
-place. You hurry there and meet the girl.</p>
-
-<p>To you he has not spoken of the serious
-ordeal in store for him. But he has sent for
-her.</p>
-
-<p>This is the last drop that overflows your
-cup of anguish. You take your sick husband
-home. You torture him till he says, “Death
-would be better than this.”</p>
-
-<p>And now you ask me what you ought to
-do.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_178"></a>[178]</span></p>
-
-<p>It would be much simpler to tell you what
-you ought not to have done.</p>
-
-<p>But it is too late for that now. All the
-same, I will, to the best of my poor abilities,
-give you advice and the benefit of my experience,
-gathered from contemplation of many
-wretched and foolish cases in which people
-tread happiness under foot, and then instantly
-lament what they have lost.</p>
-
-<p>First and foremost, Agnete, you must look
-into yourself, and get rid of the lie which like
-an octopus has caught you in its embrace and
-smothers the best within you.</p>
-
-<p>The lie about your husband’s deficiency.
-Your expressions of longing for a harmony of
-souls is a lie, just as your pretension to love
-with the soul and not with the senses is a lie.</p>
-
-<p>You are one of the many women who, for
-reasons which I fail to understand, find
-no salvation in your relations to a man.
-What for him was the highest enjoyment, for
-you was only a torturing excitement. A<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_179"></a>[179]</span>
-physical shortcoming in yourself would in
-him appear a crime in your eyes. Instead
-of honestly and frankly explaining to him the
-state of things and the cause of your unhappy
-condition, you try to seek satisfaction by making
-scenes.</p>
-
-<p>Don’t you see, dear child, a clever woman
-never makes scenes. It isn’t politic. A
-scene that lasts an hour does fourteen days’
-detriment to her appearance.</p>
-
-<p>Your question, “What ought I to do now?”
-really means, “How can I punish him
-further?”</p>
-
-<p>Rather you should ask, “What can I do to
-heal his wounded soul?” And this is my
-answer, Agnete, “You can do it by confessing
-your own mistakes, and forgetting his.”</p>
-
-<p>You must not ape humility, and let something
-cry within you, “See what a sacrifice
-I am making!”</p>
-
-<p>No, you must acknowledge your wrongdoing
-and not let it out of sight. Take it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_180"></a>[180]</span>
-in both hands, hold it tightly like a costly
-goblet, and keep your eyes fixed on it. You
-should remember that it is no credit to you
-that you have not betrayed him because there
-has been no necessity; for you know nothing
-of the mad impulse that can arise between two
-human creatures, suddenly, like a storm in the
-thickest part of the wood.</p>
-
-<p>Above all things, recognise that at the time
-your husband summoned his mistress to his
-side when he thought he was going to die, he
-acted from the greatest and most primitive
-of instincts—the instinct of love.</p>
-
-<p>Tell him that you have been wrong. Show
-him your love. Give him your best. Not
-for an hour or a day, but every hour and every
-day. That is the only way to his heart, and
-to your own peace of mind. And then the
-time will come when mutual forgiveness has
-performed its miracle.</p>
-
-<p>Try to understand what I mean.</p>
-
-<p>Hearty good wishes from your mother’s old<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181"></a>[181]</span>
-friend. If you like you may show your husband
-this letter.</p>
-
-<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Elsie Lindtner.</span></p>
-
-<p class="tb">It is certainly a very fine trait in Magna’s
-character, that she who used to be—well,
-never mind, I won’t say what—has never
-breathed the name of her child’s father to
-any living soul.</p>
-
-<p>The man must have been good and strong,
-and I am fortunate indeed that my Kelly has
-found a protector in the little fellow. Oluf
-doesn’t like Kelly drinking schnaps. So
-Kelly doesn’t drink schnaps. Oluf wants
-Kelly’s moustache to grow, so Kelly lets it
-grow.</p>
-
-<p>“So long as I have Oluf, who takes care of
-me, you need not be afraid of me.” Those
-words are close to my heart.</p>
-
-<p>And yet I have still some anxiety. The
-world is so big, and here things are reduced
-to such a groove. I notice the effect on Oluf<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_182"></a>[182]</span>
-when Kelly tells him about America. Who
-knows if the day will not come when the pair
-come to bid me and Magna farewell to go off
-on adventures?</p>
-
-<p>Oluf was making plans the other day for
-travelling to Canada, and camping in the
-great forests far away from civilisation. The
-boy had fixed it all up. They were to live
-in the trees, and live by hunting and fishing.
-Perched up on the highest branches they
-would spread out their nets, and catch fish out
-of the great river that rolls through the forest.
-They would only enter a town twice a year
-to sell the skins of the beasts they had caught.</p>
-
-<p>Oluf is not too small for such dreams, but
-Kelly—</p>
-
-<p>I am so unwilling to budge from here till
-Kelly has taken root in the soil so that he can’t
-tear himself away. He promises to stay here
-always, but what is a promise?</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_183"></a>[183]</span></p>
-
-<p class="tb noindent"><span class="smcap">Dear Magna</span>,</p>
-
-<p>I must really tell you without delay.
-Richard has been to see me. When Lucie
-brought in his card I was dumbfounded.
-But the moment he entered the room, thank
-God I got over my feeling of embarrassment.
-We stood and looked at each other, and were
-at a loss how to begin the conversation, till
-it occurred to Richard to say something about
-Kelly. He knew, of course, the whole story.</p>
-
-<p>It did one good to see the dear fellow, to
-speak to him again. He said he could only
-stay a few minutes, and he stayed two hours.
-In reality, it was his little wife who sent him
-to see me. She thought it so extraordinary
-that she should not know me, who had played
-such an important part for so many years in
-Richard’s life.</p>
-
-<p>We spoke a great deal of our respective
-children, and were both equally proud.</p>
-
-<p>Now Richard has promised to visit me next<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_184"></a>[184]</span>
-Sunday with his family. You and our boys
-come, too. In the course of the week I shall
-return Richard’s call.</p>
-
-<p>Do you know, Magna, I intend to make
-it quite a festive occasion, and there shall be
-no feeling in the matter that I am a divorced
-wife. You will have to lend me a few things
-as most of my china is over in the villa, and
-I shall order the food to be sent in from
-Palace Street. One can be certain of getting
-it good there, or would you advise going to an
-hotel? I have got so out of the habit of entertaining
-that I feel nervous at the thought
-of it.</p>
-
-<p>Anyhow, you must come, Magna, and take
-care that Kelly is properly attired. Also see
-to his hands.</p>
-
-<p>When Richard was gone, I sat a long time
-and meditated in retrospect on how very
-nicely he and I had once got on together.
-The one drawback was that we had no children.
-On that account I made the sacrifice<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_185"></a>[185]</span>
-and left him. I have been royally rewarded
-for it, through my Kelly.</p>
-
-<p>Richard’s wife plays a good game of
-bridge, and we have already started a society
-for the winter. The report of your enormous
-pluck has reached the old Market Place, for
-Richard spoke of you in terms of the warmest
-admiration and esteem. At parting we both
-positively had tears in our eyes.</p>
-
-<p>May I, without hurting you, give a hint?
-Please put on your silk dress, Magna. I
-shall have a new one made, I think, as quickly
-as possible. You see, this is to be a very important
-event in my life.</p>
-
-<p>Embrace my boy for me, and remember
-what I said about his hands.</p>
-
-<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Elsie.</span></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter">
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186"></a>[186]</span></p>
-
-<p class="dropcap"><span class="smcap">Dear Jeanne</span>,</p>
-
-<p>It is wrong of me to have been so
-lazy lately about writing. But I have
-had so much to do. I have, as a matter of
-fact, moved house. It happened in a twinkling.
-This habitation became to let through
-a death, and mine was taken by a young married
-couple.</p>
-
-<p>Now I am living on the beach road so far
-out that I am hardly to be reckoned as belonging
-to Copenhagen. Can you guess why I
-have moved? Simply to be nearer the farm,
-so childish does one become with advancing
-age. Magna advised me strongly to come
-out altogether, but I am not inclined to do
-that. I am always and shall be a child of
-towns, though in the year that Kelly has been
-learning to be a farmer I have taken an almost
-incredible interest in cows, pigs, winter<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_187"></a>[187]</span>
-crops, and all the rest of it. My life is so full
-of richness and light, I have nearly more joy
-than I can bear, and no troubles at all.</p>
-
-<p>Magna manages our “estate,” as she always
-calls it to please me, most admirably. And
-how well she understands the art of setting
-others to work!</p>
-
-<p>My Kelly and her little Oluf are now, as
-they always have been, inseparable, and I believe
-that the blue-eyed little comrade exercises
-a most beneficent influence on Kelly.
-Magna told me one day that she had heard
-Oluf saying—the boy lay in a hay-cock and
-didn’t know that Magna was on the other side
-of it taking her after-dinner nap—“I have no
-father, for my father died ten years before
-I was born. But if you like to be my father,
-I shall be quite content to have no other.”</p>
-
-<p>Magna visits me every time that she has
-anything to do in the town. When the window
-is open I can hear the crack of her whip
-above all the rest. And will you believe it,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_188"></a>[188]</span>
-Jeanne, my heart begins to beat at the sound,
-for it means that the boys are with her, or that
-Magna is coming to tell me about them.
-You should just see her sitting rosy and upright
-in the dog-cart, her head hidden in a
-hood, with an old sealskin on, all rubbed the
-wrong way, the same that twenty years ago
-formed a topic of conversation the whole winter
-through, because it had cost her poor,
-struggling husband goodness knows how
-many thousands.</p>
-
-<p>Magna is now getting on for sixty. But
-no one would think it. She beams as if the
-whole world were at her feet. I look at least
-ten years older, although, God knows, I take
-a lot of trouble over my hair, and touch up
-my cheeks a little, as I always did. She
-makes a fuss about getting out of the cart as
-if the coachman could not look after the
-butter and eggs.</p>
-
-<p>Just think, she gets up at four in summer
-and at six in winter, and works for two.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_189"></a>[189]</span>
-There is no work that she considers is too
-menial.</p>
-
-<p>Lately she and Kelly painted all the four
-buildings for Whitsun. And they did it like
-the wind, so that one could hardly believe
-one’s own eyes. I sat out on the verandah
-and watched, and was nearly sick with delight.</p>
-
-<p>Then we had roast ribs and oxeyes for dinner.
-How Kelly eats! You can have no
-conception of his appetite. It’s not elegant,
-but oh, so splendid! And after they have
-been slaughtering Kelly brings me lambs’ fry,
-black puddings, and liver sausages. What I
-once couldn’t tolerate now tastes to me better
-than the finest Astrakhan caviare.</p>
-
-<p>How I chat on all about my own affairs.
-But I don’t forget my little fellow-traveller
-on that account, and her troubles are mine.
-Still, I am not going to make them such a serious
-matter as you do, for they are not worth
-it. You have arrived at a stage when everything<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_190"></a>[190]</span>
-looks to you black, and must look so. I
-should be deeply pained if I had not long ago
-seen what the cause of it is. You are now
-just about the age I was when we first met
-each other; that age which for women is so
-difficult and dangerous. And the inexplicable
-happiness is not granted to every woman
-to come through the time unscathed and triumphant
-as I did.</p>
-
-<p>I have thought about it, and wondered
-what the reason could be why I, contrary to
-every one else, should remain during those
-years much the same as always; and I have
-come to the conclusion that it was because I
-lived so superficially at that time, and without
-any deep feeling for other people.</p>
-
-<p>But you, little Jeanne, since you linked
-your fate so fortunately with Malthe’s, have
-been a sheer compost of love-worship and
-self-sacrifice. I could have foretold long ago
-that your transition age would be a hard time.
-But now try yourself to make it easier. Review<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_191"></a>[191]</span>
-the circumstances, sift, and explain them
-to yourself.</p>
-
-<p>You have something to be thankful for that
-does not fall to the lot of one woman in ten
-thousand. Your husband continues to love
-you as much to-day as when you first became
-his. Does that not counter-balance everything?
-Are the little cosmopolitan godless
-angels of children really so hard to bring up
-as you think? They have, of course, the artistic
-temperament, and you attempt to model
-them into normal human beings. You will
-never succeed.</p>
-
-<p>And is Malthe’s depression of spirits of any
-great significance? There is cause for it.
-He has of late, with justice or injustice, been
-overlooked, and younger powers have been
-preferred before him; his name has no longer
-the <i>cachet</i> it once had, and even his talent
-seems to have taken a back seat. But, dear
-Jeanne, you are greatly to blame for this.
-You have loved your husband so blindly and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_192"></a>[192]</span>
-fondly that you have not set him on a pedestal,
-but you have built a castle of air far up in the
-highest clouds, and there you have placed
-him like a golden ball on the most inaccessible
-pinnacle, with no one above him and no
-one near him.... You have fed his ambition
-and stifled your own natural, critical
-faculty, instead of standing at his side and being
-helpful to him in deciding between good
-and mediocre, and now you complain that you
-cannot console, and that he spurns you. You
-are ashamed to say so, but I read between the
-lines that you are very, very unhappy....
-And it is all because you are not well, dear
-Jeanne, and your despondency is likely to last
-some years.</p>
-
-<p>But I could hit, I think, on ways and means
-of putting your cares to flight; if only you
-will at once make up your mind to bring your
-little flock northwards, so that I may take
-them with me to the Villa this summer, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_193"></a>[193]</span>
-teach the little goose-herds, the Parisian,
-the Sicilian, and the Smyrna child, indifferent
-Danish, while you and your Malthe close the
-house, store your furniture, and trot round the
-globe.</p>
-
-<p>Don’t let the thought of money stand in
-your way. Tell Joergen from me that he
-may with an easy hand use the money which
-he would set aside as a dowry for his daughters.</p>
-
-<p>He must be ashamed of himself if he has
-not that opinion about his own flesh and
-blood, that it will be a pure joy to any
-one to take over the girls, even if they come
-without a rag to their backs or clothed in
-flour sacks.</p>
-
-<p>Besides, I have made my will, and, dear
-Jeanne, if I once played <i>la banque</i> at Monte
-Carlo, I am not likely to do it again.</p>
-
-<p>What a glorious summer it will be over
-there in the White Villa with your chicks.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_194"></a>[194]</span>
-And we’ll borrow Magna’s Oluf and my
-Kelly for a week, too. What does my old
-travelling companion say to this?</p>
-
-<p>Much love to you and to your husband, and
-the whole small flock, from</p>
-
-<p class="center">Yours always,</p>
-
-<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Elsie Lindtner</span>.</p>
-
-<p class="tb">Poor Jeanne and poor Joergen.... So it
-fares worse with you than I thought.</p>
-
-<p>I have the greatest desire to travel over to
-them and mediate, but in these days my heart
-is too touchy and my neuralgia a consideration.
-I ought not by rights to sit out on the
-balcony in the cool evening air, but I never
-could be careful.</p>
-
-<p>But it shall not happen; it would be too
-foolish and irresponsible a step—people don’t
-separate in a hurry like that without a ghost
-of a real reason. All very well if Malthe
-had another string to his bow, or if Jeanne
-was in love with another man, but, good<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_195"></a>[195]</span>
-Lord! one of them couldn’t live without the
-other, and yet she talks of having “weighed”
-the matter, and thoroughly thought it out. I
-am so angry my hands tremble.</p>
-
-<p>Jeanne must really collect herself, and understand
-that all this is nothing but a transition.
-When I think of it, I can recall no case
-among the many I have known—except, of
-course, my own—of a single woman who has
-managed to get through these years without
-a slight rumpus of some kind. Afterwards
-they have taken endless trouble to patch
-up the wounds they have inflicted. Now,
-Jeanne has been more than unreasonable in
-this respect. There isn’t a man in the world
-who can stand such an everlasting adoration.</p>
-
-<p>It was certainly brutal of him to say, “Mind
-yourself, your house, and your children, but
-don’t meddle with my work.”</p>
-
-<p>But he meant nothing more by it than a
-child in a temper does when it vents its anger
-in trampling on a favourite toy. Yet the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_196"></a>[196]</span>
-words rankled in Jeanne as a reproach—a reproach
-for what?</p>
-
-<p>He has lost faith in his talent. Therefore
-he is irritable and dejected, and Jeanne, who
-all these years has had enough to do in bringing
-children into the world, and caring for
-them and him, now stands suddenly still, looks
-round and behind her, and feels disillusioned.
-Now is the time when she wants the tenderest
-words he has ever lavished on her, but he,
-with his head full of building plans, sees no
-sense or object in two people talking of love—two
-people who have proved their love with
-their whole life.</p>
-
-<p>One of them ought to fall sick unto death
-... so that the other should forget his small
-grievances.</p>
-
-<p>Well, we shall see. If Jeanne listens to my
-advice, and lets the children come up here, all
-will be well.... A little air and freedom is
-what they need; otherwise I shall have to sacrifice
-myself and for the second time knock<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_197"></a>[197]</span>
-about the world with my little travelling companion.</p>
-
-<p class="tb">So I have been in my old home once more!
-Weeks will have to go by before I get over
-the re-visiting of it. Every trace of me had
-been removed—with a scrupulous care and
-thoroughness as if every piece of furniture,
-every hanging and picture had been dangerously
-infected. Doors had been obliterated,
-and new ones cut in walls which used to be
-doorless. Not even the peaceful white fireplaces
-were there any longer, but instead
-gilded radiators. Had I never inhabited the
-rooms they could not have seemed more
-strange. I looked in vain for Richard’s oak
-bookcase, and the panels from his grandmother’s
-country place.</p>
-
-<p>I had to see everything. My namesake—she
-who bears the name by right, not courtesy—led
-me from one room to another. It was
-as if she asked me incessantly, “Isn’t there<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_198"></a>[198]</span>
-anything that reminds you of your reign?”
-No, nothing, not the very least thing.</p>
-
-<p>And then when we sat round the table at
-which Richard and I used to sit alone with
-the servants waiting behind our chairs, all the
-vacant places were filled with children whose
-appearance in the world was one of the conditions
-of my departure. Wonderful, wonderful!
-and a little sad.</p>
-
-<p>I noticed how Richard exerted himself
-that I should feel at ease. But he, too, I
-think, was moved by the oddness of the situation.</p>
-
-<p>She calls me Madame Elsie, and I call her
-Madame Beathe.</p>
-
-<p>Involuntarily I glanced round for the big
-portrait Kröyer in his day painted of me, the
-portrait which Richard simply idolised. He
-saw what I was looking for, and cast down
-his eyes. I felt inclined to say, “Dearest
-friend, don’t let us be sentimental. What
-was once is no longer. But the picture was a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_199"></a>[199]</span>
-true work of art, and for that reason you
-should have let it hang where it was.”</p>
-
-<p>One thinks such things, but doesn’t say
-them.</p>
-
-<p>I was shown, too, the daughters’ bedroom
-upstairs, and there—there hung my picture
-among photographs of actresses and school
-friends. Finally it will land in the attic unless
-it occurs to some one to make money out
-of it.</p>
-
-<p>Why is it I cannot get rid of a feeling of
-bitterness and humiliation? They were all
-very kind and considerate. But when
-Madame Beathe joking suggested a match between
-her Annelisa and my Kelly, I felt near
-to crying. Annelisa is a thoroughly nice girl,
-it is true. But I cannot endure the thought
-of Kelly being looked down on, because of his
-country manners. And she does look down
-on him.</p>
-
-<p>The little mistress has one fault. She is
-too immaculately tidy. I noticed that all the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_200"></a>[200]</span>
-carpets had dusting sheets over them, and
-naturally supposed their removal had been
-forgotten, till I saw that every single article
-on her dressing-table was covered in the
-middle of the day with gauze, and I heard
-her scolding one of the maids for not washing
-her hands before beginning to lay the
-cloth after touching some books. Richard, I
-am sure, finds it trying.</p>
-
-<p>When he smokes a cigar she sits on pins and
-needles for fear he shall scatter the ash about.
-And God knows that for a man Richard is
-tidy enough. She discovered a mark on the
-white window-ledge, only a raindrop, I believe,
-but got up twenty times at least to scrub,
-brush, and breathe on the spot.</p>
-
-<p>It gives me food for thought. It is not for
-me to judge what she does and how she acts.
-But I can’t get over it. I feel bound to
-criticise her. And somehow the idea will
-bother me that this is my home she is fussing
-about in, and not the other way about.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_201"></a>[201]</span></p>
-
-<p>Annelisa kissed me at parting, and asked if
-she might soon come to see me. But she shall
-not come when Kelly is at home. That is
-certain.</p>
-
-<p>And now they have invited me to a grand
-dinner-party.</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>Kelly must have a tail-coat, there is no
-question of that.</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>No, Kelly shall not have a dress suit.
-Kelly won’t come with me to the dinner-party
-at Richard’s. I am going alone.</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>Pah! I am positively excited! It was a
-grand occasion. And it did me good to hear
-pretty speeches made about my appearance.
-The orchids certainly did go well with my<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_202"></a>[202]</span>
-mauve silk. They couldn’t have come from
-anywhere but Paris, of course.</p>
-
-<p>Annelisa and I became great friends. She
-took me up to her room and confided in me
-that she and her mother don’t get on.</p>
-
-<p>You were afraid to move almost for fear
-of being told you were making things in a
-mess. And the child betrayed, by the way,
-the little domestic secret that her mother now
-had a bedroom to herself, because her father
-was so untidy in shaving. When no one was
-looking her mother went about with a duster
-and wiped away the marks left by the soles of
-your boots. Wasn’t it too awful? But it
-didn’t seem so dreadful to me, for all at once
-I saw plainly what it meant, and I consoled
-the child by telling her that in a year or two
-the scouring demon would be cleaned away.</p>
-
-<p>Richard seems quite unconcerned. He
-doesn’t dream of complaining. But if he has
-any memory, it must occur to him in looking
-back, how in the years that I was passing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_203"></a>[203]</span>
-through the phase, everything inwardly and
-outwardly went on the same as usual.</p>
-
-<p>Richard plays a brilliant game of bridge.
-But I must say I was utterly unprepared for
-Professor Rothe making the third. He behaved
-as if nothing whatever had passed between
-us. And Lili’s name was not mentioned.</p>
-
-<p>Richard said when I rose to go, “You have
-been the Queen of the Feast!” God knows I
-blushed.</p>
-
-<p>Maybe that in his secret heart he recognises
-the great sacrifice I made for him. It was,
-undoubtedly, no easy matter to leave him and
-the beautiful house. But my exemplary conscience
-was sufficient reward, even if I had
-not afterwards received the guerdon of Kelly.</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>I believe I shall succeed in having a chat
-with Madame Beathe about her <i>tic doloreux</i>.
-If one broaches the subject tactfully, it’s possible<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_204"></a>[204]</span>
-to achieve a great deal; and it is only a
-matter of getting her to see herself that her
-malady is an appendage of her years.</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>What holes Kelly wears his stockings into,
-and how black he makes his pocket-handkerchiefs!
-I do believe the boy uses them to
-wash the cart-wheels.</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>Kelly said yesterday, “And if you hadn’t
-adopted me, I should have been in the gutter
-all my life.” How he looks at me!</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>I suppose I had better have left it alone.
-I was told that for others such a period of incapability
-might exist, but not for her. She
-knew the duties of a proper housewife, and
-did not attend to a fifth part of things and
-leave the rest in dirt and disorder.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_205"></a>[205]</span></p>
-
-<p>It was a little too much that I should not
-only come and interfere in her housekeeping,
-but ascribe to her a fictitious illness that only
-existed in my imagination.... And then
-followed a long story which to listen to was
-enough to make one laugh and weep together.
-Goodness! she had actually been jealous of
-my former régime, and had no peace till she
-had turned the whole house topsy-turvy.
-She didn’t intend that I should know this.
-But the storm burst when she thought to-day
-I had been taking my revenge. Her one object
-in life was to live for her husband, her
-home, and her children, and she had no notions
-about posing as a beauty, and be painted
-by famous artists. And so on....</p>
-
-<p>She was so beside herself finally, that I was
-obliged to cave in, and say that I had made
-a mistake, she was not at the dangerous age,
-and her scouring mania was a perfectly natural
-instinct, and it was a pity that all housewives
-did not follow her example.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_206"></a>[206]</span></p>
-
-<p>And then we were good friends again, and
-she told me that she was very glad I was
-really quite old.</p>
-
-<p>Any woman so old and harmless, of course
-didn’t count.</p>
-
-<p>No, I shall not burn my fingers again. It
-is most curious how forgetful one becomes
-with the flight of years.</p>
-
-<p>But forgetful is not exactly the right word.
-It is much more a sort of half-unconscious
-perversion of actual facts. The same kind
-of thing as parents making out to their children
-and almost believing it themselves, that
-when they were children they were absolute
-angels.</p>
-
-<p>Magna, for instance, is capable of self-delusion
-and lying with regard to the miseries
-of her dangerous age. Magna, usually the
-soul of truthfulness, who never tries to make
-herself out better than she is, apparently believes
-that she got over those difficult years
-easily and calmly. Good God!</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_207"></a>[207]</span></p>
-
-<p>For once we nearly grew angry with one
-another. I maintained that it was nothing
-to be ashamed of, but rather an honour, that
-she had afterwards matured into the magnificent,
-vigorous creature she now is.</p>
-
-<p>But she wouldn’t hear of it. The only
-thing she would admit was Oluf, and she only
-did that because he is flesh and blood.</p>
-
-<p>We both became vehement, and in the end
-Magna went the length of asserting in her excitement
-that I had been far more affected by
-the critical years than she and Lili Rothe put
-together!</p>
-
-<p>It was useless to protest against such a ludicrous
-mis-statement of facts. But we very
-soon made it up again, and played our game
-of Friday bridge. Unfortunately Kelly had
-not come in with Magna.</p>
-
-<p>He and Oluf had to sit up all night with a
-sick cow. It would have sufficed if one of
-them had done it, but where Kelly is there
-Oluf will be also.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_208"></a>[208]</span></p>
-
-<p>God bless Magna for her way of chatting
-about the two boys. I devour the words as
-they fall from her lips. It is so splendid to
-hear her. Magna thinks it will be a good
-thing for Kelly if he marries in a year or two
-... it seems almost as if she had fixed on
-some one already. What if it should be to the
-new dairy-maid? Well, I should not mind,
-so long as it was for my boy’s happiness. In
-that event we must think of taking a farm for
-Kelly, for Kelly and Oluf.</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>It would interest me to prove to Magna
-who was right. If I could bring myself to
-reading through once more what I wrote
-down in those days ... yes, I will to-morrow.</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>I am ashamed, oh, how ashamed I am! It
-is not fancy or forgery. I wrote every word<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_209"></a>[209]</span>
-of it in circumstances which bear witness to
-the honesty of the writer. I can never look
-either Magna or Jeanne in the face again
-... or in my boy’s.</p>
-
-<p>Not I who have a thousand times dreamed
-and wished with all my heart that I had
-brought him into the world! I can only
-hang my head now and be thankful that he
-never had such a person for his mother.</p>
-
-<p>I, I, who strutted about like a peacock,
-proud of my own perfections; I, who pointed
-the finger of scorn at others; I, who presumed
-with the rights of a judge to condemn
-or pardon others, inwardly jubilating triumphantly,
-“Thank God I am not as other men
-are.”</p>
-
-<p><i>That</i> can never be erased, never made
-good.</p>
-
-<p>Now that I have reached the evening of my
-days, and my one occupation is to sit and look
-out of the window at the people who pass, and
-dream happy dreams for my boy, I commit<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_210"></a>[210]</span>
-no thought or deed that needs the veil of
-oblivion.</p>
-
-<p>But then, when I was in my prime ...
-when I might have applied my gifts for usefulness
-and pleasure—I was such a....</p>
-
-<p>The memory of it can never be wiped out.
-It can never be made good.</p>
-
-<p>And I had thought that Kelly was to read
-it all after my death, so that he might learn to
-know what I really was; learn to despise me
-as I lay in my grave.... I have had the fire
-lit though it is summer. I intend to destroy
-every line. Every line!</p>
-
-<p>But will that prevent Kelly beholding me
-in all my pitiableness? Am I such a coward?
-Such a coward?... No, Kelly <i>shall</i> read it,
-every scrap when I am dead.</p>
-
-<p>Then he shall see what a deplorable,
-wretched creature I was till love entered my
-life, when he did. Then he shall know the
-great miracle which love wrought.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_211"></a>[211]</span></p>
-
-<p>Kelly has a claim to me in bad as well as
-good....</p>
-
-<p>I feel to-day so ineffably tired. It seems
-as if this day were to be my last. The day of
-judgment, when I am to stand face to face
-with myself.</p>
-
-<p>But the day of judgment is to be followed
-by regeneration. Kelly is to be my regeneration.
-Not for myself do I pray to be granted
-a year, an hour; I pray for Kelly’s sake alone,
-that our meeting that night may not have been
-in vain. This prayer throbs from my lips
-into Eternity.</p>
-
-<p>Will it be heard?</p>
-
-<p class="center">⁂   ⁂   ⁂   </p>
-
-<p>There are bells chiming for vespers.
-Now Kelly is coming home from work,
-so tall, strong, and healthy. They are busy
-with the spring ploughing, and to-morrow<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_212"></a>[212]</span>
-will be Sunday. Then I shall see him, have
-him to myself....</p>
-
-<p>Kelly, Kelly ... why aren’t you here at
-this hour? Kelly, I want to see you, and to
-thank you.</p>
-
-<p>Be good ... be happy....</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
-
-<div class="advert">
-
-<div class="advert-inner">
-
-<p class="center larger">THE DANGEROUS AGE</p>
-
-<p class="center">BY</p>
-
-<p class="center">Karin Michaëlis</p>
-
-<p class="center"><i>Cloth</i> <span class="spacer1"><i>12mo</i></span>
-<span class="spacer2"><i>$1.20 net</i></span> <i>Postage 12 cents</i></p>
-
-<p>“One can hardly fail to be heartily in accord with Marcel
-Prevost in regard to the literary value of the story, the artistic
-insight, the skill, and the peculiarly feminine flavor that it displays.
-As a piece of fiction of unique form and substance,
-written with unusual skill and artistic feeling, the book is worth
-reading.”—<i>New York Times</i></p>
-
-<p>“The book will have a powerful appeal for a great many
-women.”—<i>New York Herald</i></p>
-
-<p>“An admirable piece of workmanship, both subtle and sincere....
-Fine literary taste and an artistic reticence are characteristics
-of this Danish woman’s method.”—<i>New York Sun</i></p>
-
-<p>“An extraordinary document, and reveals the feminine soul
-of all time.”—<i>Boston Evening Herald</i></p>
-
-<p>“It is not a record of deeds, but of thoughts; as such it
-will attract many who think, and who have had experience
-with life.”—<i>Cincinnati Times-Star</i></p>
-
-<p>“The author’s great success came with ‘The Dangerous Age,’
-in which she bares the very soul of a woman with the relentless
-sternness of the surgeon and the power of expression of the
-literary artist.”—<i>Philadelphia Public Ledger</i></p>
-
-<p>“The book is sure to appeal to women and those interested
-in the study of feminism.”—<i>Detroit News</i></p>
-
-<p>“The book is admirably written, never extreme, always chaste
-in language, but fascinatingly leaving much to the imagination.
-Will interest all readers.”—<i>Pittsburg Dispatch</i></p>
-
-</div>
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-<p class="center larger">JOHN LANE CO., NEW YORK</p>
-
-</div>
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-<p class="center larger">AN UNOFFICIAL HONEYMAN</p>
-
-<p class="center">BY</p>
-
-<p class="center">Dolf Wyllarde</p>
-
-<p class="center">Author of “The Rat Trap,” “The Riding Master,” etc.</p>
-
-<p class="center"><i>Cloth</i> <span class="spacer1"><i>12mo</i></span>
-<span class="spacer2"><i>$1.30 net</i></span> <i>Postage 12 cents</i></p>
-
-<p>“A strong story in more senses than literary, and well
-worth the reading.”—<i>New York Times</i></p>
-
-<p>“A distinct achievement in the realm of fiction, and should
-add to the laurels the writer has already won. The theme is
-an old one—a man and a woman cast upon an uninhabited island—but
-the handling of it is new and in Miss Wyllarde’s best
-style. The descriptions are vivid and realistic.... The story
-is told with unusual vigor. It is human, simple, convincing and
-absorbing.”—<i>Boston Herald</i></p>
-
-<p>“As interesting as the first sea story ever written; a fresh,
-vividly-told tale.”—<i>Baltimore Evening News</i></p>
-
-<p>“A highly entertaining story for the lover of adventure, a
-sort of modernized Robinson Crusoe, with a heroine to take
-the place of Goodman Friday.”—<i>Chicago Evening Post</i></p>
-
-<p>“Brilliant writing and realistic psychology.”—<i>New York Sun</i></p>
-
-<p>“The book is more than an entertaining story.”—<i>Boston
-Globe</i></p>
-
-<p>“Miss Wyllarde invests this tale with a keenly attractive
-quality.”—<i>Washington Evening Star</i></p>
-
-<p>“Miss Wyllarde has ability above the average, and the gift
-of characterization to a marked degree.”—<i>Providence Journal</i></p>
-
-<p>“There is a fascination in reading the book that comes to
-one but rarely in any other contingent circumstance that is
-brought up in the present day pages of romance.”—<i>Cincinnati
-Press Leader</i></p>
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-</div>
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-<p class="center larger">JOHN LANE CO., NEW YORK</p>
-
-</div>
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-<div class="advert">
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-
-<p class="center larger">THE UNKNOWN WOMAN</p>
-
-<p class="center">BY</p>
-
-<p class="center">Anne Warwick</p>
-
-<p class="center">Author of “Compensation”</p>
-
-<p class="center"><i>Cloth</i> <span class="spacer1"><i>12mo</i></span>
-<span class="spacer2"><i>$1.30 net</i></span> <i>Postage 12 cents</i></p>
-
-<p class="center">Frontispiece and Jacket Illustration by Will Grefé</p>
-
-<p>“From start to finish an interesting story. It is entertaining
-because the incidents keep the reader in some suspense, and—even
-more—because of the author’s undoubted mastery in reproducing
-a certain modern atmosphere.”—<i>New York Times</i></p>
-
-<p>“An exceptionally good piece of work, planned on a large
-scale and executed with an able, firm hand. A tale of one of
-the most interesting phases of the life of contemporary New
-York—of the line where art and intellect and wealth meet.”—<i>New
-York Tribune</i></p>
-
-<p>“There are clever and original things here; the book is well
-written.”—<i>New York Sun</i></p>
-
-<p>“Holds the interest very well.”—<i>New York Evening Globe</i></p>
-
-<p>“Brilliant and charming bits of life.”—<i>Washington
-Evening Star</i></p>
-
-<p>“Its conversational parts are lively and entertaining and its
-descriptions interesting.”—<i>Buffalo Commercial</i></p>
-
-<p>“A strong, vital story of the artistic and business life of
-New York.”—<i>Brooklyn Eagle</i></p>
-
-<p>“The person who likes dialogue will find the book fascinating.
-The author has a genuinely sincere purpose in her method
-of depicting life. A handsome frontispiece in color by Will
-Grefé enhances the appearance of the book.”—<i>Cincinnati
-Times-Star</i></p>
-
-<p>“There is a Bohemian atmosphere about the story, which is
-laid in Rome and New York, that is most appealing, and it is
-so dramatic and interesting in treatment and theme, and the
-plot itself is so absorbing, that ‘The Unknown Woman’ is quite
-one of the most remarkable books of the year.”—<i>Salt
-Lake City Herald</i></p>
-
-</div>
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-<p class="center larger">JOHN LANE CO., NEW YORK</p>
-
-</div>
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-<div class="advert">
-
-<div class="advert-inner">
-
-<p class="center larger">WINGS OF DESIRE</p>
-
-<p class="center">BY</p>
-
-<p class="center">M. P. Willcocks</p>
-
-<p class="center">Author of “A Man of Genius,” “The Way Up,” etc.</p>
-
-<p class="center"><i>Cloth</i> <span class="spacer1"><i>12mo</i></span>
-<span class="spacer2"><i>$1.30 net</i></span> <i>Postage 12 cents</i></p>
-
-<p>“So far as it deals with the problems of the modern woman,
-or rather, with the modern woman’s new way of facing
-a problem that is as old as life—that of love—the book is curiously
-revelatory.”—<i>New York Tribune</i></p>
-
-<p>“The story of the woman who forces herself on the weakling
-to save him from himself is good work.”—<i>New York Sun</i></p>
-
-<p>“The story is so remarkable for its analytical power, its
-minute observation, its sense of background, its delicate style as
-literature, that it arrests and holds, and calls the reader back
-again and again.”—<i>Boston Evening Transcript</i></p>
-
-<p>“The right of woman to her own individuality is the book’s
-chief inspiration. It is for serious minds, and to such provides
-much food for thought.”—<i>Springfield Republican</i></p>
-
-<p>“The author handles her characters as might a true mother
-her children—knowing, yet not specially noting, the faults and
-virtues of all. The style is clear and terse to incisiveness, and
-almost every page has its sage or witty saying. It isn’t an easy
-story to lay aside unfinished.”—<i>Chicago Record Herald</i></p>
-
-<p>“Much of beauty and truth, with occasional instances of
-vivid strength.”—<i>Chicago Evening Post</i></p>
-
-<p>“There is in all Miss Willcocks’ stories a certain quality that
-makes for the heights. She has a precious vocabulary. The
-realism that distinguishes her never for a moment extinguishes
-her grace of style or charm. She is essentially an artist who offends
-neither by useless detail nor disappoints by leaving too
-much to the reader’s imagination. Always she handles her wisdom
-and wit perfectly, while she presents her stories powerfully.
-This is a book to read and keep.”—<i>Philadelphia Record</i></p>
-
-<p>“Her technique is good, her details are exceedingly well
-handled, and her study of types is most delightful.”—<i>Louisville
-Post</i></p>
-
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-<p class="center larger">HECTOR GRAEME</p>
-
-<p class="center">BY</p>
-
-<p class="center">Evelyn Brentwood</p>
-
-<p class="center"><i>Cloth</i> <span class="spacer1"><i>12mo</i></span>
-<span class="spacer2"><i>$1.25 net</i></span> <i>Postage 12 cents</i></p>
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-<p>“A tale which carries conviction with it. The story is well
-told and the conception of the central character is extremely
-interesting.”—<i>New York Times</i></p>
-
-<p>“A remarkable book. The study of that virile character,
-Hector Graeme, is exceedingly powerful. The gripping power
-of the novel is undeniable and its psychology sure-based.”—<i>Boston
-Evening Transcript</i></p>
-
-<p>“One of the most convincing novels of military life ever
-written.”—<i>Rochester Post Express</i></p>
-
-<p>“One of the strongest pieces of fiction to reach this desk for
-many a month. It is a character study of the sort that may be
-honestly described as unusual.”—<i>Cleveland Plain Dealer</i></p>
-
-<p class="center larger">SEKHET</p>
-
-<p class="center">BY</p>
-
-<p class="center">Irene Miller</p>
-
-<p class="center"><i>Cloth</i> <span class="spacer1"><i>12mo</i></span>
-<span class="spacer2"><i>$1.25 net</i></span> <i>Postage 12 cents</i></p>
-
-<p>“A novel of genuine dramatic power. Its pages are marked
-by a strong, cumulative interest. It is a long while since a
-novel of greater dramatic force has claimed our attention.”—<i>New
-York Herald</i></p>
-
-<p>“To those aweary of novels that are not novel, and stories
-that lack blood and bone and sinew, ‘Sekhet’ will seem as manna
-to hungry palates. It is as human a document as one might
-find. Its characters live today, and love and sin and die, just
-as surely as the author relates. A better sermon than is often
-preached, a better novel than is often written, describes the
-book exactly.”—<i>Philadelphia Record</i></p>
-
-<p>“A powerfully written tale with marvellous descriptive bits
-and very strong character drawing—a story which grips the
-emotions from the start.”—<i>Nashville American</i></p>
-
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-<p class="center">BY</p>
-
-<p class="center">Muriel Hine</p>
-
-<p class="center"><i>Cloth</i> <span class="spacer1"><i>12mo</i></span>
-<span class="spacer2"><i>$1.25 net</i></span> <i>Postage 12 cents</i></p>
-
-<p>“A readable story.”—<i>Boston Evening Transcript</i></p>
-
-<p>“The story is well told and is without an uninteresting paragraph
-in all its pages.”—<i>Boston Globe</i></p>
-
-<p>“The story is pleasantly told.”—<i>Washington Evening Star</i></p>
-
-<p>“The tale is well written and has a good plot and the character
-delineation is well done.”—<i>San Francisco Call</i></p>
-
-<p class="center larger">HALF IN EARNEST</p>
-
-<p class="center">BY</p>
-
-<p class="center">Muriel Hine</p>
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-<span class="spacer2"><i>$1.25 net</i></span> <i>Postage 12 cents</i></p>
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-
-<p>“The real interest of the book—and it is a very real interest—lies
-in the conflict of character and will between the two
-protagonists.”—<i>New York Evening Post</i></p>
-
-<p>“A well built, well written tale.”—<i>Washington Evening Star</i></p>
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-<p class="center">BY</p>
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-
-<p class="center">With an Introduction by Edwin Markham</p>
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-<span class="spacer2"><i>$1.25 net</i></span> <i>Postage 12 cents</i></p>
-
-<p>“A big story, bearing the blood prints of reality.”—<i>Edwin
-Markham</i></p>
-
-<p>“Whoever reads this story will get so keen a sense of actuality,
-will feel so strongly the grip of a living, human hand
-through all its pages that he can hardly help rejoicing, as for
-a friend, that the lad lives true to his vision and the man to
-his final glimpse of the solidarity of mankind.”—<i>New
-York Times</i></p>
-
-<p>“This ‘Story of a Ploughboy’ ought to rouse people to the
-degrading effects on men of unremitting, unregulated, unsweetened,
-unenlightened toil, and also to the fact that it is the ploughboys
-of the world who make the fortunes of the rich. It is a
-most unusual story and makes a good impression.”—<i>New
-York Evening Globe</i></p>
-
-<p>“Three of the greatest merits that any book can have cannot
-be denied to this story: it is a book of good faith; it is a
-book of vital actuality, and it is a book for men.”—<i>New
-York Herald</i></p>
-
-<p>“The pictures of life and labor are admirably well done,
-and if the book does preach socialism, it preaches it logically and
-convincingly.”—<i>James L. Ford in New York Herald</i></p>
-
-<p>“To read this story that quivers with the pathos and passion
-of life is to get a keener and kindlier vision of our mortal existence.”—<i>Buffalo
-Commercial</i></p>
-
-<p>“Those who are interested in stories with a sociological
-trend will be charmed with this history, minute and graphic, of
-a ploughboy.”—<i>Buffalo Express</i></p>
-
-<p>“A record of a young man’s life—one of the most popular
-themes of today. The story has pathos, sincerity of intention,
-and all the multiplied details of realism that make happy the
-heart of the reader on Socialistic problems.”—<i>Baltimore
-Evening News</i></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="center larger">JOHN LANE CO., NEW YORK</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="advert">
-
-<div class="advert-inner">
-
-<p class="center larger">AWAKENING</p>
-
-<p class="center">BY</p>
-
-<p class="center">Maud Diver</p>
-
-<p class="center">Author of “Candles in the Wind,” “Captain Desmond,
-V.C.” and “The Great Amulet”</p>
-
-<p class="center"><i>Cloth</i> <span class="spacer1"><i>12mo</i></span>
-<span class="spacer2"><i>$1.30 net</i></span> <i>Postage 12 cents</i></p>
-
-<p>“A story of very human interest, a careful study well
-thought out in all its possibilities.”—<i>Boston Evening Transcript</i></p>
-
-<p>“A most delightful and enjoyable story.”—<i>Boston Times</i></p>
-
-<p>“This is a story told with a good deal of poesy and power,
-a story disclosing and suggesting much of the inner life of two
-great civilizations.”—<i>New York American</i></p>
-
-<p>“Apart from its romantic interest the book has good literary
-style.”—<i>New York Herald</i></p>
-
-<p>“Mrs. Diver’s sympathetic appreciation of the Indian point
-of view is remarkable and could only come from long experience.”—<i>Providence
-Journal</i></p>
-
-<p>“Even the most enthusiastic admirer of Maud Diver’s previous
-works will not hesitate to say that ‘Awakening’ is the
-greatest book she has yet given us.”—<i>Cleveland Town Topics</i></p>
-
-<p>“The author is a word painter and her story gives her plenty
-of opportunity to show her talent. Many of the situations are
-exquisitely tendered and are brought out with a delicacy of touch
-that is worthy of a poet.”—<i>Albany Argus</i></p>
-
-<p>“Like the other works by the same author, ‘Awakening’ is
-marked by excellent diction and delicate touch of descriptive
-powers.”—<i>Chicago Journal</i></p>
-
-<p>“The story is engrossing.”—<i>Detroit Free Press</i></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="center larger">JOHN LANE CO., NEW YORK</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="advert">
-
-<div class="advert-inner">
-
-<p class="center larger">THE BEACON</p>
-
-<p class="center">BY</p>
-
-<p class="center">Eden Phillpotts</p>
-
-<p class="center">Author of “The Thief of Virtue,” “Demeter’s
-Daughter,” etc.</p>
-
-<p class="center"><i>Cloth</i> <span class="spacer1"><i>12mo</i></span>
-<span class="spacer2"><i>$1.30 net</i></span> <i>Postage 12 cents</i></p>
-
-<p>“One is lost in the beauty of imagination of the word paintings
-of Dartmoor, and absorbed by the thoughtful study of human
-nature.”—<i>The Outlook</i></p>
-
-<p>“The book has the usual excellences of clearness and picturesqueness.”—<i>The
-Nation</i></p>
-
-<p>“We seldom see such strong buffets of wit in present day
-stories. The book has greatly pleased us.”—<i>New York Sun</i></p>
-
-<p>“The dramatic power of plot and characters of the tale are
-undeniable. Mr. Phillpotts remains an admirable artist in the
-maturity of his powers.”—<i>New York Tribune</i></p>
-
-<p>“The tale in its mingled tragedy and comedy is admirable
-and holds the attention. The people are alive and interesting.
-This book ranks high.”—<i>New York Herald</i></p>
-
-<p>“No one who has once begun to read ‘The Beacon’ will fail
-to read eagerly to the end.”—<i>New York Evening Mail</i></p>
-
-<p>“As a prose poem of great beauty, those parts that sing the
-beauty of Cosdon will delight the reader.”—<i>Chicago Evening Post</i></p>
-
-<p>“A problem worked out in a way that must fascinate any
-thoughtful reader.”—<i>Chicago Record Herald</i></p>
-
-<p>“There is a flavor of a whole portion of humanity in Mr.
-Phillpotts’ men of the soil that makes his novels much more
-than passing fiction. There is also the aroma, the color, the austerity
-of the moors that creates an atmosphere long remembered.
-Both will be found at their best in ‘The Beacon.’”—<i>Boston
-Herald</i></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="center larger">JOHN LANE CO., NEW YORK</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="advert">
-
-<div class="advert-inner">
-
-<p class="center larger">MANALIVE</p>
-
-<p class="center">BY</p>
-
-<p class="center">Gilbert K. Chesterton</p>
-
-<p class="center">Author of “The Innocence of Father Brown,”
-“Heretics,” “Orthodoxy,” etc.</p>
-
-<p class="center"><i>Cloth</i> <span class="spacer1"><i>12mo</i></span>
-<span class="spacer2"><i>$1.30 net</i></span> <i>Postage 12 cents</i></p>
-
-<p class="center">Frontispiece and Jacket Illustration by Will Foster</p>
-
-<p>“Mr. Chesterton has undertaken in this quaint narrative to
-make burlesque the vehicle of a sermon and a philosophy. It
-is all a part of the author’s war upon artificial attitudes which
-enclose the living men like a shell and make for human purposes
-a dead man of him. He speaks here in a parable—a parable of
-his own kind, having about it a broad waggishness like that of
-Mr. Punch and a distinct flavor of that sort of low comedy which
-one finds in Dickens and Shakespeare. You are likely to find,
-before you are done with the parable, that there has been forced
-upon your attention a possible view of the life worth living.
-‘Manalive’ is a ‘Peterpantheistic’ novel full of Chestertonisms.”—<i>New
-York Times</i></p>
-
-<p>“One of the oddest books Mr. Chesterton has yet given us.”—<i>New
-York Evening Globe</i></p>
-
-<p>“The fun of the book (and there is plenty of it) comes quite
-as much from the extraordinary and improbable characters as
-from the situations. Epigrams, witticisms, odd fancies, queer
-conceits, singular whimsies, follow after one another in quick
-succession.”—<i>Brooklyn Eagle</i></p>
-
-<p>“One of the most humorous tales of modern fiction, combined
-with a very tender and appealing love story.”—<i>Cleveland
-Plain Dealer</i></p>
-
-<p>“The book is certain to have a wide circulation, not only
-because of the name of the author attached to it, but because
-of its own intrinsic worth.”—<i>Buffalo Commercial</i></p>
-
-<p>“There can be no doubt as to the iridescent brilliance of the
-book. Page after page—full of caustic satire, humorous sally and
-profound epigram—fairly bristles with merriment. The book is
-a compact mass of scintillating wit.”—<i>Philadelphia Public Ledger</i></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="center larger">JOHN LANE CO., NEW YORK</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="advert">
-
-<div class="advert-inner">
-
-<p class="center larger">THE INNOCENCE OF FATHER BROWN</p>
-
-<p class="center">BY</p>
-
-<p class="center">Gilbert K. Chesterton</p>
-
-<p class="center">Author of “Manalive,” “Orthodoxy,” “Heretics,” etc.</p>
-
-<p class="center"><i>Cloth</i> <span class="spacer1"><i>12mo</i></span>
-<span class="spacer2"><i>$1.30 net</i></span> <i>Postage 12 cents</i></p>
-
-<p class="center">Illustrations by Will Foster</p>
-
-<p>“Mr. Chesterton writes extremely good detective stories—detective
-stories the more fascinating because if there is about
-them a hint of irony, there is also more than a hint of poetry
-and a shadow—or, if you will, a glow—of the mystic and the
-supernatural.”—<i>New York Times</i></p>
-
-<p>“The stories are entertaining; the mysteries and their solutions
-are ingenius and interesting.”—<i>New York Sun</i></p>
-
-<p>“The stories are vastly entertaining, and excellent specimens
-of literary craftsmanship at the same time.”—<i>The Outlook</i></p>
-
-<p>“Never were philosophy, ethics and religion preached in a
-more unusual manner.”—<i>Chicago Tribune</i></p>
-
-<p>“In their own Chestertonic realm, the stories are personal
-and convincing; full, too, of the charm of landscape. The author
-arranges his scenes and marshals his characters with an artistic
-eye worthy of a Poe.”—<i>Chicago Evening Post</i></p>
-
-<p>“The stories have a charming variety, and interest in them
-is awakened more insidiously than in the average story dealing
-with the detection of crime.”—<i>Chicago Record Herald</i></p>
-
-<p>“Throughout these meteoric adventures there is, of course,
-besides Father Brown a lot of Mr. Chesterton himself, scintillating
-along the way, to the fascination and bedazzlement of the
-reader.”—<i>Washington Evening Star</i></p>
-
-<p>“The stories are of the dashing and brilliant kind that
-Stevenson invented—exciting tales told in an artistic manner.”—<i>Albany
-Argus</i></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="center larger">JOHN LANE CO., NEW YORK</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<div class="advert">
-
-<div class="advert-inner">
-
-<p class="center larger">THE GLORY OF CLEMENTINA</p>
-
-<p class="center">BY</p>
-
-<p class="center">William J. Locke</p>
-
-<p class="center">Author of “The Belovèd Vagabond,” “Simon the
-Jester,” etc.</p>
-
-<p class="center"><i>Cloth</i> <span class="spacer1"><i>12mo</i></span>
-<span class="spacer2"><i>$1.30 net</i></span> <i>Postage 12 cents</i></p>
-
-<p class="center">Illustrations by Arthur I. Keller</p>
-
-<p>“Mr. Locke has succeeded in uniting with the firm carefulness
-of his early work the rapid, fluent, vibrating style that
-makes his later books so delightful; therefore it is easy to make
-the deduction that ‘Clementina’ is the best piece of work he has
-done.”—<i>New York Evening Sun</i></p>
-
-<p>“Among the novels of the past five years no books have more
-consistently produced an effect at once certain, satisfactory and
-delightful than those of William J. Locke. This latest addition
-to his shelf is full of life and laughter and the love not only of
-man for woman but of man for man and for humanity. Mr.
-Locke is a born story-teller and a master of the art of expression.”—<i>The
-Outlook</i></p>
-
-<p>“The book contains a mass of good material, with original
-characterization, and is written in a style piquant and clever.”—<i>The
-Literary Digest</i></p>
-
-<p>“A story containing the essence of humanity, with an abundance
-of sensible and sensitive, casual and unobtrusive commentary
-upon life and man, and especially upon woman.”—<i>Boston
-Evening Transcript</i></p>
-
-<p>“It contains even more of the popular qualities than are usually
-associated with the writings of this noted author.”—<i>Boston
-Times</i></p>
-
-<p>“Mr. Locke’s flights into the realms of fancy have been a
-delight to many readers. He has a lightness of touch that is
-entirely captivating, and his remarkable characterization of inconsequent
-people gives them a reality that is very insistent.”—<i>Baltimore
-Evening Sun</i></p>
-
-<p>“Never has he drawn so deeply from that well that is the
-human heart; never so near those invisible heights which are
-the soul; and, if we are not altogether mistaken, ‘The Glory of
-Clementina’ will also prove to be that of its author.”—<i>Baltimore
-News</i></p>
-
-<p>“A fascinating story with delicate, whimsical touches.”—<i>Albany
-Times-Union</i></p>
-
-<p>“The book seems destined to live longer than any written
-by the author to date, because it is so sane and so fundamentally
-true.”—<i>Philadelphia Enquirer</i></p>
-
-</div>
-
-<p class="center larger">JOHN LANE CO., NEW YORK</p>
-
-</div>
-
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