he whole of them!

Margethe Ernst is the only one of my old friends who is sincere and
does not let herself be carried away by false sentiment. She writes
cynically, brutally even: "An injection of morphia would have had just
the same effect on you; but everyone to his own taste."

As to Lillie, with her simple, gushing nature, she tries to write
lightly and cheerfully, but one divines her tears between the lines. She
wishes me every happiness, and assures me she will take Malthe under her
motherly wing.

"He is quiet and taciturn, but fortunately much engrossed with his plans
for the new hospital which will keep him in Denmark for some years to
come."

His work absorbs him; he is young enough to forget.

As to the long accounts of deaths, accidents and scandals, a year or two
ago they might have stirred me in much the same way as the sight of a
fire or a play. Now it amuses me quite as much to watch the smoke from
my chimney, as it ascends and seems to get caught in the tops of the
trees.

Richard is still travelling with his grief, and entertains me
scrupulously with accounts of all the sights he sees and of his lonely
sleepless nights. Are they always as lonely as he makes out?

As in the past, he bores me with his interminable descriptions and his
whole middle-class outlook. Yet for many years he dominated my senses,
which gives him a certain hold over me still. I cannot make up my mind
to take the brutal step which would free me once and for all from him. I
must let him go on believing that our life together was happy.

Why did I read all these letters? What did I expect to find? A certain
vague hope stirred within me that if I opened them I should discover
something unexpected.

The one remaining letter--shall I ever find courage to open it? I _will_
not know what he has written. He does not write well I know. He is not a
good talker; his writing would probably be worse. And yet, I look upon
that sealed letter as a treasure.

Merely touching it, I feel as though I was in the same room with him.

* * * * *

Lillie's letter has really done me good; her regal serenity makes itself
apparent beneath all she undertakes. It is wonderful that she does not
preach at me like the others. "You must know what is right for yourself
better than anybody else," she says. These words, coming from her, have
brought me unspeakable strength and comfort, even though I feel that she
can have