I
AT 6:30 I was certain that she would come, and I was desperately happy.
My coat was fastened only by the top button, and fluttered in the cold
wind; but I felt no cold. My head was proudly thrown back, and my
student’s cap was cocked on the back of my head; my eyes with respect
to the men they met were expressive of patronage and boldness, with
respect to the women of a seductive tenderness. Although she had been
my only love for four whole days, I was so young, and my heart was so
rich in love, that I could not remain perfectly indifferent to other
women. My steps were quick, bold and free.
At 6:45 my coat was fastened by two buttons, and I looked only at the
women, but no longer with a seductive tenderness, but rather with
disgust. I only wanted _one_ woman—the others might go to the devil;
they only confused me, and with their seeming resemblance to Her gave
to my movements an uncertain and jerky indecision.
At 6:55 I felt warm.
At 6:58 I felt cold.
As it struck seven I was convinced that she would not come.
By 8:30 I presented the appearance of the most pitiful creature in the
world. My coat was fastened with all its buttons, collar turned up, cap
tilted over my nose, which was blue with cold; my hair was over my
forehead, my moustache and eyelashes were whitening with rime, and my
teeth gently chattered. From my shambling gait, and bowed back, I might
have been taken for a fairly hale old man returning from a party at the
almshouse.
And She was the cause of all this—She! “Oh, the Dev——! No, I won’t.
Perhaps she could not get away, or she is ill, or dead. She’s
dead!”—and I swore.