A
similar longing is planted within me. When I think of it, that a
beautiful human animal like Laura belongs to me and will belong as
long as I wish it, a twofold joy gets hold of me,--the joy of the man
and the delight of the artist; and yet there is a want and something
missing. On the altar of my Greek temple there is a marble goddess;
but my Gothic shrine is empty. I admit that in her I have found
something bordering upon the perfect, and I defend myself from a
suspicion that this perfection throws a big shadow. I thought once
that Goethe's words, "You shall be like unto gods and beasts,"
embraced all life and were the highest expression of his wisdom; now,
when I follow the commandment, I feel that he omitted the angel.
17 April.
Mr. Davis came into the room when I was sitting at Laura's feet, my
head leaning against her knees. His bloodless face and dim eyes
showed no feeling beyond indifferent sullenness. In his soft slippers
embroidered with Indian suns, he shuffled across the room, and
into the library. Laura looked magnificent, her eyes flashing with
unrestrained wrath. I rose and awaited what would happen. A thought
crossed my mind that Mr. Davis might come back, a revolver in his
hand. In such a case I should have pitched him through the window,
revolver, plaid, and Indian slippers. But he did not come back; I
waited a long time in vain.
Pages:
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141