de the
Old Market Place the Old Market Place. Everything is so clean here that
one hesitates to move a step. The boards are as shiny as though they
were polished silver.... This very moment Torp appeared in felt shoes
and implored me to get her a strip of oilcloth to save her kitchen
floor. I feel just the same; I scarcely dare defile this spotless
pitchpine.

* * * * *

What is the use of all these discussions and articles about the equality
of the sexes, so long as we women are at times the slaves of an
inevitable necessity? I have suffered more than ever the last few days,
perhaps because I was so utterly alone. Not a human being to speak to.
Yes, I ought to have stayed in bed if only to conceal my ugliness. In
town I was wise. But here ...

* * * * *

All the same I am proud of my self-control. Many women do not possess as
much.

The moon is in her first quarter; a cold dry wind is blowing up; it
makes one cough merely to hear it whistle.

I hate winds of all kinds, and here my enemy seems to have free entry. I
ought to have built my house facing south and in some hollow sheltered
from the wind. Unfortunately it looks to the north, straight across the
open sea.

I have not yet been outside the garden. I have made up my mind to keep
to this little spot as long as possible. I shall get accustomed to it. I
_must_ get accustomed to it.

Dear souls, how they worry me with their letters. Only Malthe keeps
silence. Will he deign to answer me?

Jeanne follows me with her eyes as though she wanted to learn some art
from me. What art?

Good heavens, what can that girl be doing here?

She does not seem made for the celibate life of a desert island. Yet I
cannot set up a footman to keep her company. I will not have men's eyes
prying about my house, I have had enough of that.

A manservant--that would mean love affairs, squabbles, and troubles; or
marriage, and a change of domestics. No, I have a right to peace, and I
will secure it. The worst that could happen to me would be to find
myself reduced to playing whist with Jeanne and Torp. Well, why not?

Torp spends all her evenings playing patience on the kitchen
window-sill. Perhaps she is telling her fortune and wondering whether
some good-looking sailor will be wrecked on the shores of her desert
island.

Meanwhile Jeanne goes about in silk stockings. This rather astonishes
me. Lillie reproved me