I
ought to have built my house facing south and in some hollow sheltered
from the wind. Unfortunately it looks to the north, straight across the
open sea.
I have not yet been outside the garden. I have made up my mind to keep
to this little spot as long as possible. I shall get accustomed to it. I
_must_ get accustomed to it.
Dear souls, how they worry me with their letters. Only Malthe keeps
silence. Will he deign to answer me?
Jeanne follows me with her eyes as though she wanted to learn some art
from me. What art?
Good heavens, what can that girl be doing here?
She does not seem made for the celibate life of a desert island. Yet I
cannot set up a footman to keep her company. I will not have men's eyes
prying about my house, I have had enough of that.
A manservant--that would mean love affairs, squabbles, and troubles; or
marriage, and a change of domestics. No, I have a right to peace, and I
will secure it. The worst that could happen to me would be to find
myself reduced to playing whist with Jeanne and Torp.
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