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270
SÖNYA KOVALÉVSKY
a dog; but—I hope, for the dog’s sake, it is not so unhappy as
human beings can be. Comme les horn mes, surtout comme les
femmes peuvent Vétre. But perhaps I shall grow more sensible
by and by. I shall at least try. I will attempt to begin a new
work and interest myself in practical things. I shall, of course,
be led entirely by your advice, and do whatever you wish. At
this moment all I can manage is to keep my sorrows to myself.
I take care to make no mistakes in society, nor give people any
opportunity of talking about me. I have been a great deal this
week to Bertrand and Menabrea; and afterward to Count
Lewenhaupt and Prince Eugène, etc. But to-day I feel too low to
be able to describe all these dinner-parties to you. I will do so
another time.
When I return to my rooms I do nothing but walk up and
down. I have no appetite, neither can I sleep. I do not know
whether I should care to go away. I shall decide that next
week. Good-by for to-day, dear Göstav. Keep your friendship
for me. I am in sore want of it; that much I may say. Kiss
Pousi for me, and thanks for all your care of her.
Yours most affectionately,
sönya.
She decided to leave Paris in the spring, and wrote
to me from there in French:
Let me first congratulate you on the joy which has come to
you. What a happy " child of the sun " you are to have found
so great, so deep a love at your age! That is really a fate
worthy of such a lucky soul as yours. But it has always been
so. You were " happiness," and I am, and most likely shall
always be, " struggle." It is strange, but the longer I live the more
I am governed by the feeling of fatalism, or rather
predestination. The feeling of free will, said to be innate in man, fails
me more and more. I feel so deeply that, however much I may
struggle, I cannot change my fate one jot. I am now almost
resigned. I work because I feel I am at the worst. I can neither
wish nor hope for anything. You have no idea how indifferent
I am to everything.
But enough about me ! Let us talk of something else. I am
glad you like my Polish story.1 I need not tell you how delighted
1 A memory of her youth, written in French, and translated
later on in the Nordistidschrift.
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