It is ours
and it obeys us; we may shoot it forth into space, and, once outside of
this feeble head, it is gone, we can no longer control it.
While I was deferring the time of our departure from day to day, I was
gradually losing strength, and, although I did not perceive it, my vital
forces were slowly wasting away. When I sat at table, I experienced a
violent distaste for food; at night two pale faces, that of Brigitte and
of Smith, pursued me through frightful dreams. When they went to the
theater in the evening, I refused to go with them; then, I went alone and
concealed myself in the parquet and watched them. I pretended that I had
some business to attend to in a neighboring room and I sat there an hour
and listened to them. The idea occurred to me to seek a quarrel with
Smith and force him to fight with me; I turned my back on him while he
was talking; then he came to me with a look of surprise on his face,
holding out his hand. When I was alone in the night and every one slept,
I felt a strong desire to go to Brigitte's desk and take from it, her
papers. On one occasion, I was obliged to go out of the house in order to
resist the temptation. One day I felt like arming myself with a knife and
threatening to kill them if they did not tell me why they were so sad;
another day I turned all this fury against myself. With what shame do I
write it! And if any one should ask me why I acted thus, I could not
reply.
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