It is always there, like a
dark demon, silently awaiting its favorable opportunity in the third or
fourth hour of the night, when sleep evades me - then it sits upon my
breast and questions and awaits my answer: - why I let her mutely ask
and ask so long and wait for an answer, till the bright eyes sank
deeper into their darker growing hollows, and the red blood had gone
from the fresh cheeks, and the delicate nose became so thin, and the
soft lips so colorless?
And in my luxurious home everything continued as of old: the children
healthy and happy: Lucia the housewife correct and diligent as ever,
not unfriendly toward me, without sign of spiritual suffering, amiable
and hearty.
Pardon an old man, dear reader, if he spares himself and does not
expatiate on these anxious years. He is not a friend of tears and does
not like to give in to melancholy.
One night the end of the struggle was at last proclaimed to me. I
dreamt I was walking in the park at The Hague and saw an old man
sitting with an opened letter in his hand.
Pages:
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365