XXV

I will not yet decide whether it was prudent discreation or rather,

fearful and narrow-minded timidity, that deterred me from the great

resolve of abandoning my family and my sphere of activity, to alone

remain true to Elsje. It was for many years a hard and fearful

struggle. It was indeed the hardest period of my life, albeit not the

darkest. The gloom and dejection this most feared evil, marked by the

relaxing of the highest vital spirits, dread warning of the powers that

guide and rule us - this evil had vanished. I struggled and suffered,

but was no longer miserable and wretched. Only I did not see my way

clearly and vainly sought for help and guidance.

The wicked charms and temptations also were dispelled. I desired one

woman - without faltering, without shame. I knew what my desire

signified, and all my soul pronounced it right. To be sure the demons

still carried on their nocturnal sport, but I minded them no more than

barking terriers, and the wild passions were now tamed because the hand

of the master had grown firm and he knew what he wanted.

My dreams attained their former sublime splendor, and for the first

time in my life I had some one to whom I could confide them. I still

saw Emmy in my dreams occasionally, but not so often, and it will

surprise no one to hear that it did not excite Elsje's jealousy, and

that she begged me to tell her of her. Elsje also asked me whether I

would call herself once more. And I did it and saw her, and Elsje hoped

devoutly that she would be in some way sensible of it.

But greatly as I should have desired it, and much more impressive and

more convincing as it would have been for her and for you, dear reader,

the truth is that she never noticed anything of it, or rather, to be

exact, that she never remembered anything about it.

I for my part did not require such evidence. I have obtained stronger

evidence through strangers, who let me know without my ever having told

them anything about my dreams, that my summons had been heard - but all

this belongs to the science of the supernatural, which awaits more

general investigation and for which, dear reader, I refer you to some

of my other writings.

I now lived separated from Lucia, although before the world our

relations remained the same. And a most remarkable and peculiar fact is

that Lucia assured me that her dreams were much more tranquil, since I

no longer shared her room. The wild horses that lately had troubled her

in her dreams more than ever, now stayed away. I consider this

remarkable, because it seems to show how corporal proximity also

affects supernatural influences.

One thing I had fully resolved on, and this was - that I would never

abandon Elsje for good. And as often befalls the man in doubting

attitude, I expected relief from destiny. Should fate threaten to tear

her from me, then I would offer resistance and stay with her, no matter

what the price. Should that which everyone in the diplomatic service

may expect, befall me - sudden transference to another country - I

would then deem the moment arrived to free myself entirely and for

good. I know this attitude too was a weakness, but who does not see

clearly must remain weak, and it is of no avail that he feign strength

and act as though he were quite capable of distinguishing. And with our

human tendency to argue that our own conduct is right, I consoled

myself with the consideration that my children were still too young and

still too much in need of my guidance.

Often too I prayed in my dreams, imploring counsel and enlightenment.

But my experience is that sign or counsel is never accorded us before

we ourselves have decided or acted, or before the approaching event has

already been determined without our help and knowledge. We are never

helped in a choice, though we are comforted and encouraged after we

have chosen to the best of our knowledge. Many times this seemed cruel

and unreasonable to me, but I am inclined to believe in the beneficent

and salutary significance of it.

The secrecy toward the world, so much desired by Lucia, soon however

assumed an altogether different, unfavorable and undesirable aspect. My

frequent trips to E------, though explained by my passion for sailing,

could not fail to arouse comment, especially as I usually went alone

and also declined the company of my son Guido, no matter how often he

asked. And E------ is a favorite port for sailing yachts, ten or twelve

of them sometimes landing there at the same time on fine summer days.

Thus my acquaintances from The Hague, the men in the first place, very

soon knew what attracted me to the little seaport. This by no means

aroused any great agitation or indignation in Hague circles, as

everyone acquainted with these and similar circles will readily

understand.

I was looked upon as a very moral and honorable man, simply because I

did not mix up in scandal and never spoke of things of that kind,

whether they concerned myself or others. It now caused many a one

satisfaction that the halo of chastity which, despite a total absence

of display or moralizing toward others, yet by its mutely reproaching

presence is ever in painful evidence, - that this unpleasantly spotless

reputation was now fittingly and modestly obscured. I was almost

congratulated upon it. No one thought of judging hardly of such a thing

or of pitying Lucia on that account. She, herself, heard nothing of

these rumors and lived in the illusion that everything retained its

former aspect. I believe I was praised - behind my back, of course, not

to my face - because I had had the decency to seek my diversion so far

from the vicinity, and not, as more shameless ones, in The Hague or

Amsterdam. As long as I did not arouse publicity or scandal, I could do

what I wished; these were my private affairs. And Lucia and the

gentlemen of my set seemed to agree in this - that it was worse to

bring publicity upon a woman than to deceive her. The herd only resents

any assault upon the unity of the group - for the rest it permits

everything.

For me this was a twofold torture. Instead of one deceit I was now

practising two. I was honoring a mock union and I was permitting a true

union to be suspected and profaned. I felt myself locked in an

intolerable fashion between two falsehoods. What as a tender secret I

had wished to hide from the world to spare Lucia, the world had soon

discovered. And yet it spared Lucia and myself, at the cost of this

same tender secret, which it looked upon as an infamy: an infamy of the

kind from which I had just felt with pride that I had freed myself. It

was all equally unbearable to me, the friendly, sarcastic generosity of

the world that spared me and acted as though forgiving me a sin, where

I felt virtue beyond its comprehension; and the condemnation of Elsje,

to which I was now most painfully sensitive, though it went out from

this same unintelligent herd.

As often as I saw Elsje again, I read in her look of anxious suspense

the question whether I had now at last taken the great resolve. But

only her dear eyes asked, and her pale little face, her lips remained

shut. She did not question me about my family either. She waited until

I should speak. We spoke of our love and of everything that was nearest

our hearts, of the difficulties of life, why we had to toil and

struggle so and bear affliction, of the great world full of men and

what would grow from it, of my dreams, of the best and most beautiful

that we could experience and of the way we could conquer the

difficulties and attain the purest blessedness. And we spoke a great

deal of Christ, groping and seeking in the dawning truths, trying to

help and to understand each other. And at every parting I felt again

that something had remained unspoken, whereof she would yet have heard

so gladly. And never did I leave her without a sense of the blessing

that I had her, and without a heavy heart because I must let her wait

and suffer.

For she suffered, she suffered as only pure, tender womanly natures

made for love can suffer. And by degrees I could not hide from myself

that she suffered more than she could bear. The power of endurance of a

pure, delicate soul like hers is infinite as long as in the kernel of

her being, in her love life, she is satisfied and contented. But the

sorrow that touches the kernel consumes her both body and soul.

Remorse is a bad thing, a weakness, a morbid symptom. I permit no

remorse in myself, for I know that it harms and weakens the best that

is in us. But against the self-reproach which is the punishment for

these years of wavering, I struggle in vain. It is always there, like a

dark demon, silently awaiting its favorable opportunity in the third or

fourth hour of the night, when sleep evades me - then it sits upon my

breast and questions and awaits my answer: - why I let her mutely ask

and ask so long and wait for an answer, till the bright eyes sank

deeper into their darker growing hollows, and the red blood had gone

from the fresh cheeks, and the delicate nose became so thin, and the

soft lips so colorless?

And in my luxurious home everything continued as of old: the children

healthy and happy: Lucia the housewife correct and diligent as ever,

not unfriendly toward me, without sign of spiritual suffering, amiable

and hearty.

Pardon an old man, dear reader, if he spares himself and does not

expatiate on these anxious years. He is not a friend of tears and does

not like to give in to melancholy.

One night the end of the struggle was at last proclaimed to me. I

dreamt I was walking in the park at The Hague and saw an old man

sitting with an opened letter in his hand. I comprehended that the

letter was for me and saw my name and title on the envelope too. But

the old man said, "This is not for you!" and I understood that he meant

that I no longer had a title. Then I saw too that it was a large

official document from Rome, and I knew that the long-expected

transferal had come. Thereupon I dreamt that I was fleeing with Elsje

and that I carried her across a great plain of ice. The ice cracked

under my feet and every crack was a snapping spark of bluish fire like

a flash of lightning. This betokened ill, but Elsje was not afraid.

The letter of which I had dreamed came a few weeks later. But it was

the same. I recognized the envelope. I also knew positively what the

contents would be, and I felt a glorious sense of relief, and a "Thank

God" escaped my lips.

Lucia had also seen the letter and it now appeared that she had awaited

it with equal longing. Her face was bright.

I had never wanted to ask the ambassador for transferal, detained by

the thought that I should be deceiving him by doing so, but I had a

suspicion that Lucia was secretly exerting herself in my behalf. She

too expected relief from it, but in another sense.

"From Rome," she said. "That seems something good to me. Just look,

quickly!"

"It seems something good to me too," I replied; my hand trembled and my

heart beat.

"Where?" asked Lucia, the while I read.

"Stockholm," I replied, "with advancement."

"Thank Heaven!" said Lucia; "then the wretched story here is ended."

I looked at her a while severely and gravely, so that her bright look

darkened and a shadow of anxiety fell upon her face.

"The story here is not ended, Lucia, but has reached a turning point. I

am not going."

"That's impossible," she cried out; "you can't refuse."

"No! but I can hand in my resignation."

"Your resignation - and then??"

"Remain in Holland."

"In Holland? And without a salary? Live on my money? And continue this

liaison? No, Vico, that you can't demand of me, that is too much."

"Lucia, there is something else I want to demand of you."

"And that is?

"That you release me. That you allow me to put an end to this

falsehood. The world takes us for man and wife and we are not?"

"Release you? Don't I grant you as much freedom as I can? And are you

not still the father of my children? The head of the house?"

"I have a wife, Lucia, who is really my wife and whom I want to make my

wife before the world. I ask you whether you will give me the

opportunity to do this by dissolving our marriage."

Then her Italian temperament revealed itself in all its intensity. She

spoke with rage and animosity upon her face, and with vehement and

dramatic gestures, as I had never seen her before.

"Give you opportunity? Opportunity to break what God cannot break? Are

you crazy, Vico? How many women would do what I did - pardon and bear

the deadly offence? Would you now cast me off still further and humble

me yet more? Would you have me give up my rights for an ordinary

bourgeois woman, whom another would long ago have poisoned? Should I

yet abet her and you in the wrong you are doing me and the disgrace you

are bringing upon me and upon my children? - Go, Vico, and don't

provoke me, for I still love you and should be capable of murdering

you. - I have borne this because I pitied you and hoped that you would

soon have enough of it and come back to me. - But now that on top of it

all you do this, now I shall yield nothing more, nothing. A marriage

cannot be dissolved. - Off with you, man, - you are crazy or drunk.

That can be your only excuse."

"I go, Lucia, - but understand me well, I am going for good. You will

not see me again."

"Are you going to her? And what shall you live on?"

"I don't know. Surely not on your money."

"And the children?"

"I shall gladly see the children if they will see me. But they won't,

you will surely see to that."

"I'll see to it. You shan't see them. Poor children!"

"Be good to them, Lucia, and advise them to get entangled in lies as

little as possible. For some people it is distressing. Others are

better able to cope with it. Good-bye! So we need not hope for a

reconciliation or an agreement between us, need we?"

"Never! I swear it by God and by my innocent children."

"I do not swear, but you need not fear that I shall make any further

attempts. I shall demand leave of absence this very day and hand in my

resignation. We shall probably not see each other again. Forgive me if

I have grieved you. I intended no ill."