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had been planned long ago, but Sonia had
continually opposed it as a treason to our friendship.
The tie that bound me to her, which in many
ways was precious to me and gave me so much joy,
at the same time was becoming somewhat
oppressive. Sonia’s idealist nature claimed an
entire merging into one another of two souls,
which real life seldom offers, and which she
could find neither in friendship nor in love.
Perhaps this explains to a certain extent, that
even her maternal feeling could not satisfy her
craving for tenderness. A child does not love
as intensely as it is loved; it cannot quite take
up the interests of somebody else, it is more
passive than active in its feelings.
I don’t mean to say that Sonia expected more
than she gave; on the contrary, she bestowed
the warmest sympathy, and overwhelmed her
friends with tokens of affection. But she claimed
a full share in return, and could not be satisfied
unless she felt that she was as much to her friends
as they were to her.
This same winter had brought her a deep and
bitter grief. Her sister, to whose sick-bed she
had hurried so often over land and sea,
sacrificing all her own plans and wishes in order to be
with her in her last moments, had been taken to
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