I cannot recall a word of
his description; I was not listening, but just thinking how the snow
would melt when it fell upon his head.
He has fulfilled my request not to write. I have not had a line since
his only letter came. And yet....
* * * * *
I have burnt his letter.
I have burnt his letter. A few ashes are all that remain to me.
It hurts me to look at the ashes. I cannot make up my mind to throw them
away.
I have got rid of the ashes. It was harder than I thought. Even now I
am restless.
* * * * *
I am glad the letter is destroyed. Now I am free at last. My temptations
were very natural.
The last few days I have spent in bed. Jeanne is an excellent nurse. She
makes as much fuss of me as though I were really ill, and I enjoy it.
* * * * *
The Nirvana of age is now beginning. In the morning, when Jeanne brushes
my hair, I feel a kind of soothing titillation which lasts all day.
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