The life Mathilde Bremer is now leading--that of a solitary woman
divorced from her husband--is certainly not enviable. Yet she admits
that she feels far better than she used to do.

* * * * *

Any one might suppose I was on the way to become a rampant champion of
the Woman's Cause. May I be provided with some other occupation! I have
quite enough to do to manage my own affairs.

Heaven be eternally praised that I have no children, and have been
spared all the ailments which can be "cured" by women's specialists!

* * * * *

Ye powers! How interminable a day can be! Surely every day contains
forty-eight hours!

I can actually watch the seconds oozing away, drop by drop.... Or
rather, they fall slowly on my head, like dust upon a polished table. My
hair is getting steadily greyer.

It is not surprising, because I neglect it.

But what is the use of keeping it artificially brown with lotions and
pomades? Let it go grey!

Torp has observed that I take far more pleasure in good cooking than I
did at first.