Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - V. Purgatory
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the bounds of propriety that my countrymen
considered me mad.
I was just then staying with my wife and the
children of my first marriage in Bavaria, when
I received a letter from a friend of my youth
inviting me and my children to stop with him
for a year. He made no mention of my wile.
This letter, with its affected style, its corrections
and omissions, seemed to betray some hesitation
on the part of the writer in the choice of the
reasons which he alleged for his invitation. As
I suspected some trap, I declined the offer in a
few non-committal polite phrases.
Two years later, after my first divorce, I went
to him of my own accord and found him living
on a little island off the coast of the Baltic Sea
as an inspector of customs. His reception of me
was friendly, but his whole manner embarrassed
and equivocal, and our conversation was more
like a police examination. After giving a wakeful
night’s consideration to the matter, I understood
it. This man, whose self-love I had
wounded in one of my novels, in spite of his
display of sympathy, was not really my well-wisher.
An absolute tyrant, he wanted to interfere
with my destiny, to tame and subdue me,
in order to show me his superiority.
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