thus unexpectedly, she
scrutinized my face anxiously. Truly I must have presented a strange
sight; and my hair has become much grayer too. She began to inquire
after my health, and in spite of my friendship for her, I felt that
to see her often would be more than I could stand. I resolved to put
myself on guard against this; I told her that I did not feel very
well, and was shortly going away to a warmer climate. She tried to
persuade me to come and see her; than asked after my aunt, Pani
Celina, and Aniela. I put her off with general remarks. I thought to
myself that she perhaps is the only being who would have understood
me, and yet I felt that I could not open my heart to her.

Nevertheless I am still susceptible to human kindness. At moments,
when those honest blue eyes of Clara's looked into mine with such
kindliness and such keen scrutiny, as if they wanted to look into my
very soul, her goodness humiliated me so that I felt a desire to weep.
Clara, in spite of my effort to seem as usual, noticed that I was
changed, and with quick feminine intuition she guessed that I speak,
live, almost think mechanically, and that my soul is half dead within
me. She left off all searchings and inquiries, but became very tender.
I saw that she was afraid of wearying me. She also tried to make
me understand that in the tenderness she was showing there was no
concealed intention of winning my regard, but only the desire to
comfort me. And it did comfort me, but I could not help feeling very
tired. My mind is not capable of any concentration, any effort to
maintain a conversation, even with a friend. And besides, since the
one aim of my life has vanished from my eyes, everything appears to me
so empty that I have continually the question in my mind: "What is the
use of it? what can it matter now?"

21 September.

Never in my life have I passed a more terrible night. I had a
sensation of terror, as if I descended by endless steps into deeper
and deeper darkness, full of horrible, indefined, moving shapes. I
made up my mind to leave Berlin; I cannot breathe under that heavy,
leaden sky. I will go back to Rome, to my house on the Babuino, and
settle there for good. I think my accounts with Aniela and the world
in general may be considered as closed, and henceforth I will quietly
vegetate at Rome until my time comes. Anything for tranquillity!
Yesterday's visit to Clara convinced me that even if I wished it, I
cannot live with oth