It is
sometimes difficult to understand how this woman with the temper of
a dove can at a given moment summon so much energy. There was a time
when I thought her too passive to be able to resist me long. What
a disappointment! Her resistance is all the stronger, the more
unexpected it is. I do not know what was the question between her and
Kromitzki, but if she says that she is not going to do what he asks
her, she will shake with fear but will not yield. If she were mine, I
would love her as the dog loves its mistress; I would carry her on
my hands, and not allow the dust to touch her feet; I would love her
until death.
1 July.
My jealousy would be a miserable thing if it were not at the same time
the pain of the true believer who sees his divinity dragged in the
dust. I would abstain even from touching her hand if I could place her
on some inapproachable height where nobody could come near her.
2 July.
I deluded myself as to my state of quiescence. It was only a temporary
torpidity of the nerves, which I mistook for calmness. Besides, I knew
it could not last.
3 July.
Yes, something has passed between them. They hide some mutual offence,
but I see it. For some days I have noticed that he does not take her
hands, as he used to and kiss them in turn; he does not stroke her
hair or kiss her forehead.
Pages:
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420