But now, sitting alone, I feel empty of soul; like a man stricken
with fierce hunger who, expecting food in a certain place, finds
nothing but a few delicate cakes that mock his craving.
October 14th.
A week has passed. I have spent it chiefly in trying to win her
love.
Is she, after all, only a child, and is this love of mine but a
monstrous passion?
What is to be done? Life is beginning to be a torture. If I
send her away, I shall eat my heart out. If she stays, fuel is
but added to the fire. Her caressing ways will drive me mad. To
repulse her were brutal--she loves to be fondled; she can
scarcely speak to me without touching me, leaning over me, thus
filling me with the sense of her. She treats me with an
affectionate child's innocence, as if I were sexless. My
happiest time with her is spent in public places, restaurants,
and theatres where her unclouded pleasure is reflected in my
heart.
I am letting her take music lessons with Herr Stuer, who lives
close by in the Avenue Road. Perhaps music may help in her
development.
Pages:
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261