I received to-day a note from Clara, in which she asks me to come and
see her after the concert. I shall go to the concert because there are
so many healthy-minded people there that I feel safer in their midst;
and they do not tire me, as they are personally unknown to me; I see
only the crowd. But I shall not go to Clara. She is too kind. It is
said of persons dying from starvation that for some time before their
death they cannot bear the sight of food. In the same way my spiritual
organism cannot stand sympathy and kindness. It cannot bear memories
either. It is a very small thing, but I know now why that visit to
Clara was such a trial to my nerves. She uses the same scent I brought
from Vienna for Aniela. I have noticed the same thing before, that
nothing recalls to the mind a certain person so distinctly as when one
inhales the perfume she is in the habit of using.
22 September.
I have broken down at last. I caught a chill yesterday coming from
the concert-room, where the air was very close. I did not put on my
overcoat, and when I arrived at the hotel I was chilled to the bone.
Every breath I draw gives me a sensation as if my lungs in
expanding came in contact with two rows of needles hidden under the
shoulder-blade. I feel alternately very hot and very cold. I am
continually thirsty. At times I feel so weak that I could not go
downstairs.
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