Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - XI. Hell Let Loose
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little house in which my child was born. Our
meeting is, considering the circumstances, a cold
one; they seem to expect that I should appear
as the prodigal son, but I have no wish to act
that rôle. I confine myself to indulging in
reminiscences of our lost paradise. She and I
had painted the door- and window-panels in
honour of the little Christina’s arrival in the
world. The roses and clematis which adorn the
front of the house were planted by my own
hands. I had cut out the path through the
garden. But the walnut tree which I planted the
morning after Christina’s birth has disappeared.
The “life-tree,” as we called it, is dead. Two
years, two eternities, have elapsed since the
farewell between her on the shore and me on the
ship, in which I went to Linz in order to proceed
thence to Paris.
Who has caused the breach between us? I,
for I have murdered my own love and hers.
Farewell, my white house, where grew thorns
and roses. Farewell, Danube! I say to
comfort myself, “You were a dream, short as
summer, too sweet to be real, and I do not
regret it.”
The night comes. My mother-in-law and my
child have, at my request, taken up their
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