If we ventured to show ourselves as we really are, we should be either
hermits, each dwelling on his own mountain-top, or criminals down in the
valleys.

* * * * *

Torp has gone to evening service. Angelic creature! She has taken a
lantern with her, therefore we shall probably not see her again before
midnight. In consequence of her religious enthusiasm, we dined at
breakfast-time. Yes, Torp knows how to grease the wheels of her
existence!

Naturally she is about as likely to attend church as I am. Her vespers
will be read by one of the sailors whose ship has been laid up near here
for the winter. Peace be with her--but I am dreadfully bored.

I have a bitter feeling as though Jeanne and I were doing penance, each
in a dark corner of our respective quarters. The Sundays of my childhood
were not worse than this.

In the distance a cracked, tinkling bell "tolls the knell of parting
day." Jeanne and I are depressed by it. I have taken up a dozen
different occupations and dropped them all.

If it were only summer! I am oppressed as though I were sitting in a
close bower of jasmine; but we are in mid-winter, and I have not used a
drop of scent for months.

But, after all, Sundays were no better in the Old Market Place. There I
had Richard from morning till night. To be bored alone is bad; to be