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150 THE CONFESSION OF A FOOL
almost a prisoner in one room, kept by two old women,
who were themselves in needy circumstances. The mother
never lost an opportvniity of reminding her of her careful
bringing- up and how she had been fitted to take an
honourable social position, and the daughter remembered
the happy days following iier release from the parental
yoke. Bitter words were spoken on both sides, tears and
insults were all too frequent, and I had to pay for them
when I called in the evening ... to visit a prisoner
under the eyes of a warder and witness.
When the strain of these painful meetings became un-
bearable, we ventured to meet two or three times in the
park. But we only jumped from the frying-pan into the
fire, for now we were exposed to the contemptuous stare
of the crowd. We hated the spring sunshine which
illuminated our misery. We missed the darkness, we
longed for the winter, Avhich made it easier for us to hide
our shame. Alas ! the summer was coming with its long
nights, which know no darkness.
Our former friends dropped us, one after the other.
Even my sister, intimidated by the now universal gossip,
grew suspicious and estranged when the ex-baroness, at
a little supper party, tried to keep up her spirits by taking
too much wine, became intoxicated, proposed a toast,
smoked cigarettes, and generally behaved in a way which
excited the disgust of the women and the contempt of
the men.
"That woman’s a common prostitute! " said a respect-
able married man and father of a family to my brother-
in-law, and the latter took the first chance to repeat the
remark to me.
When on the following Sunday evening we arrived at
my sister’s house, where we had been invited to supper,
the servant informed us, to our consternation, that her
master and mistress were out.
We spent the evening in my room, a prey to anger
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