Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - Part IV - VI
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instinct of self-preservation stirred within me; I
conceived a cunning plan. The separation from my family
paralysed me mentally; I decided to return to them and
stay with them until I had written the story of Marie’s
crimes. In this way she would become the unconscious
tool of my revenge, which I could throw away when I
had no further use for it.
With this object in view I sent her a telegram,
businesslike, free from all sentimentality; I informed her that my
petition for a divorce had been refused; pretended that I
required a power of attorney from her, and suggested an
interview at Romanshorn, on this side of the Lake of
Constance.
I despatched the telegram with a sense of relief. On
the following day I took the train and in due time arrived
at the appointed place. The week of suffering was a thing
of the past; my heart was beating normally, my eyes
shone with added lustre; I drew a deep breath at the sight
of the hills on the opposite shore, where my children lived.
The steamer approached the landing stage; my eyes
searched for Marie.
Presently I caught sight of her on the deck, her face
woebegone, ten years older. The sight of her, suddenly
grown old, wrung my heart. She walked with dragging
footsteps, her eyelids were red with weeping, her cheeks
hollow and drooping.
At that moment all feeling of hatred and disgust was
swamped by pity. I felt a strong temptation to take her
into my arms, but I pulled myself together, drew myself
up and assumed the devil-may-care expression of a young
blood who had come to a tryst. When I looked at her
more closely I discovered in her a strange resemblance to
her Danish friend; the likeness was really extraordinary;
she had the same expression, the same pose, the same
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