It hurts me to look at the ashes. I cannot make up my mind to throw them
away.
I have got rid of the ashes. It was harder than I thought. Even now I
am restless.
* * * * *
I am glad the letter is destroyed. Now I am free at last. My temptations
were very natural.
The last few days I have spent in bed. Jeanne is an excellent nurse. She
makes as much fuss of me as though I were really ill, and I enjoy it.
* * * * *
The Nirvana of age is now beginning. In the morning, when Jeanne brushes
my hair, I feel a kind of soothing titillation which lasts all day. I do
not trouble about dressing; I wear no jewellery and never look in the
glass.
Very often I feel as though my thoughts had come to a standstill, like a
watch one has forgotten to wind up. But this blank refreshes me.
Weeks have gone by since I wrote in my diary. Several times I have
tried to do so; but when I have the book in front of me, I find I have
nothing to set down.
In the twilight I sit by the fire like an old child and talk to myself.
Then Torp comes to me for the orders which she ends by giving herself,
and I let her talk to me about her own affairs. The other day I got her
on the subject of spooks. She is full of ghost stories, and relates them
with such conviction that her teeth chatter with terror. Happy Torp, to
possess such imagination!
Some days I hardly budge from one position, and can with difficulty
force myself to leave my table; at other times I feel the need of
incessant movement. The forest is very quiet, scarcely a soul walks
there. If I do chance to meet anyone, we glare at each other like two
wild beasts, uncertain whether to attack or to flee from each other.
The forest belongs to me....
The piano is closed. I never use it now. The sound of the wind in the
trees is music enough for me. I rise from my bed and listen until I am
half frozen. I, who was never stirred or pleased by the playing of
virtuosi!
I have no more desires. Past and future both repose beneath a shroud of
soft, mild fog. I am content to live like this. But the least event
indoors wakes me from my lethargy. Yesterday Torp sent for the sweep.
Catching sight of him in my room, I could not repress a scream. I could
not think for the moment what the man could be doing here.
Another time a stray cat took refuge under my table. I was not aware of
it, but no sooner had I sat down than I felt surcharged with
electricity. I rang for Jeanne, and when she came into the room the
creature darted from its hiding-place, and I was panic-stricken.
Jeanne carried it away, but for a long time afterwards I shivered at the
sight of her.
Whence comes this horror of cats? Many people make pets of them.
Personally I should prefer the company of a boa-constrictor.
* * * * *
A man whose vanity I had wounded once took it upon himself to tell me
some plain truths. He did me this honour because I had not sufficiently
appreciated his attentions.
He assured me that I was neither clever nor gifted, but that I was
merely skilful at not letting myself be caught out, and had a certain
quickness of repartee. He was quite right.
What time and energy I have spent in trying to keep up this reputation
of being a clever woman, when I was really not born one!
My vanity demanded that I should not be run after for my appearance
only; so I surrounded myself with clever men and let them call me
intellectual. It was Hans Andersen's old tale of "The King's New
Clothes" over again.
We spoke of political economy, of statesmanship, of art and literature,
finance and religion. I knew nothing about all these things, but, thanks
to an animated air of attention, I steered safely between the rocks and
won a reputation for cleverness.
* * * * *
In English novels, with their insipid sweetness that always reminds me
of the smell of frost-bitten potatoes, the heroine sometimes permits
herself the luxury of being blind, lame, or disfigured by smallpox. The
hero adores her just the same. How false to life! My existence would
have been very different if ten years ago I had lost my long eyelashes,
if my fingers had become deformed, or my nose shown signs of redness....
A red nose! It is the worst catastrophe that can befall a beautiful
woman. I always suspected this was the reason why Adelaide Svanstroem
took poison. Poor woman, unluckily she did not take a big enough dose!
* * * * *