left his money to other people, which does not distress her in the
least. Her sole reason for going on living is that she shrinks from
seeking death voluntarily.

I wonder if there exists a man who could save her? A man who could make
her forget the bitterness of the past? She assures me I am the only
human being who has ever attracted her. If I were a man she would be
devoted to me and sacrifice everything for my sake.

It is a strange case. But I am very sorry for the girl. I have never
come across such a peculiar mixture of coldness and ardour.

When she had finished her story she went away very quietly. And I am
convinced that to-morrow things will go on just as before. Neither of us
will make any further allusion to the fog, nor to all that followed it.




SPRING.

I am driven mad by all this singing and playing! One would think the
steamboats were driven by the force of song, and that atrocious
orchestras were a new kind of motive power. From morning till night
there is no cessation from patriotic choruses and folk-songs.

Sometimes The Sound looks like a huge drying-ground in which all these
red and white sails are spread out to air.

How I wish these pleasure-boats were birds! I would buy a gun and