Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - VII. Beatrice
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So I with my child remain as a welcome guest
of my mother-in-law, and contentedly accept the
hospitality offered me, under present circumstances,
for an indefinite time. My mother-in-law,
with the placable and submissive mind of
a deeply religious woman, has forgiven me all.
September 1st.—I occupy the room in which
my wife has spent her two years of separation.
Here she has suffered, while I suffered in Paris.
Poor, poor woman! Are we so severely punished,
because we have trifled with love?
During the evening meal the following
incident happens. In order to help my little
daughter, who cannot yet help herself, I touch
her hand quite gently and kindly. The child
utters a cry, draws her hand back, and casts at
me a glance full of alarm. When her grandmother
asks what is the matter, she answers,
“He hurts me.” In my confusion I am unable
to utter a word. How many persons have I
deliberately hurt, and hurt still, though
without intending it. At night I dream of an eagle
which tears at my hand for some unknown crime.
In the morning my daughter visits me; her
manner is gentle and coaxing. She drinks coffee
with me, and remains standing by my writing-table
while I show her pictures. We are already
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