Now I am full of eager impulses that mourn and howl by turns, striving
for utterance like wind in turret chambers. I hate this infernal
lodging. I feel like a fowl in a coop;--that landlady, those children,
Emma.... The actress will be coming upstairs presently; shall I ask her
into my room? Better let things remain as they are.
_Conscience_.
Why intrude a new vexation on her already vexed life?
_I_.
Hallo, you startled me! Well, I am surprised. We have not talked
together for a long time. Since when?
_Conscience_.
I will spare your feelings. I merely thought I would remind you that you
have passed the rubicon--your thirtieth year.
_I_.
It is terrible to think of. My youth gone!
_Conscience_.
Then you are ashamed--you repent?
_I_.
I am ashamed of nothing--I am a writer; 'tis my profession not to be
ashamed.
_Conscience_.