My person for his money--that was the bargain,
crudely but truthfully expressed.
* * * * *
Just as one arranges the scenery for a _tableau vivant_, I prepared my
"living grave" in this house, which Malthe built in ignorance of its
future occupant. And here I have learnt that joy of possession which
hitherto I have only known in respect of my jewellery.
This house is really my home. My first and only home. Everything here is
dear to me, because it _is_ my own.
I love the very earthworms because they do good to my garden. The birds
in the trees round about the house are my property. I almost wish I
could enclose the sky and clouds within a wall and make them mine.
In Richard's house in the Old Market I never felt at home. Yet when I
left it I felt as though all my nerves were being torn from my body.
Joergen Malthe is the man I love; but apart from that he is a stranger
to me. We do not think or feel alike. He has his world and I have mine.
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