And more.
I shall not tell you for you already know the sentiments whereby love,
and duty, too, are transferred. Only at long, long last I realized how
much I, who own nothing but my inner self, had imagined I owned them.
It was an injury I'd done them.
And so one more illusion set aside its mask, at least for that while,
that now.
How many there were!
How often I saw them on other countenances; how rarely I lifted them
from my own.
Finally, I fell asleep.
An old, old man--sitting in a chair.