Hysteria takes strange forms. But who knows what is the real ground of
hysteria? I used to think it was the special malady of the unmated
woman; but, in later years, I have known many who had had a full share
of the passional life, legitimate and otherwise, and yet still suffered
from hysteria.
* * * * *
I begin to realise the fascination of the cloister; the calm, uniform,
benumbing existence. But my comparison does not apply. The nun renounces
all will and responsibility, while I cannot give up one or the other.
I have reached this point, however; only that which is bounded by my
garden hedge seems to me really worthy of consideration. The house in
the Old Market Place may be burnt down for all I care. Richard may marry
again. Malthe may....
Yes, I think I could receive the news in silence like the monk to whom
the prior announces, "One of the brethren is dead, pray for his soul."
No one present knows, nor will ever know, whether his own brother or
father has passed away.
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