The Dangerous Age | Page 9

I not think of that before?
All the same, decorum must be maintained, and my entry was not undignified.
Ah, the rain, the rain! Jeanne and Torp are still cleaning up. They mean to go on half the night, scrubbing and sweeping as though we expected company to-morrow. I start unpacking my trunk, take out a few things and stop--begin again and stop again, horrified at the quantity of clothes I've brought. It would have been more sensible to send them to one of our beloved "charity sales." They are of no use or pleasure now. Black merino and a white woollen shawl--what more do I want here?
God knows how I wish at the present moment I were back in the Old Market Place, even if I only had Richard's society to bore me.
What am I doing here? What do I want here? To cry, without having to give an account of one's tears to anyone?
Of course, all this is only the result of the rain. I was longing to be here. It was not a mere hysterical whim. No, no....
It was my own wish to bury myself here.
* * * * *
Yesterday I was all nerves. To-day I feel as fresh and lively as a cricket.
We have been hanging the pictures, and made thirty-six superfluous holes in the new walls. There is no way of concealing them. (I must write to Richard to have my engravings framed.) It would be stretching a point to say we are skilled picture-hangers; we were nearly as awkward as men when they try to hook a woman's dress for her. But the pictures were hung somehow, and look rather nice now they are up.
But why on earth did I give Torp my sketch of "A Villa by the Sea" to hang in her kitchen? Was I afraid to have it near me? Or was it some stupid wish to hurt his feelings? His only gift.... I feel ashamed of myself.
Jeanne has arranged flowers everywhere, and that helps to make the house more homelike.
The place is mine, and I take possession of it. Now the sun is shining. I find pleasure in examining each article of furniture and remembering the days when we discussed the designs together. I ought not to have let him do all that. It was senseless of me.
* * * * *
They are much to be envied who can pass away the time in their own society. I am in my element when I can watch other people blowing soap-bubbles; but to blow them myself....
I am not really clever at creating comfortable surroundings. Far from it. My white villa always looks uninhabited, in spite of all the flowers with which I allow Jeanne to decorate the rooms. Is it because everything smells so new? Or because there are no old smells? Here there are no whiffs of dust, smoke, or benzine, nor anything which made the Old Market Place the Old Market Place. Everything is so clean here that one hesitates to move a step. The boards are as shiny as though they were polished silver.... This very moment Torp appeared in felt shoes and implored me to get her a strip of oilcloth to save her kitchen floor. I feel just the same; I scarcely dare defile this spotless pitchpine.
* * * * *
What is the use of all these discussions and articles about the equality of the sexes, so long as we women are at times the slaves of an inevitable necessity? I have suffered more than ever the last few days, perhaps because I was so utterly alone. Not a human being to speak to. Yes, I ought to have stayed in bed if only to conceal my ugliness. In town I was wise. But here ...
* * * * *
All the same I am proud of my self-control. Many women do not possess as much.
The moon is in her first quarter; a cold dry wind is blowing up; it makes one cough merely to hear it whistle.
I hate winds of all kinds, and here my enemy seems to have free entry. 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