I have shivered with terror at this self-deception.  The last few nights I have hardly slept at all.  A traveller must feel the same who sails across the sea ignorant of the country to which he journeys.  Vaguely he pictures it as resembling his native land, and lands to find himself in a wilderness which he must plant and cultivate until it blossoms with his new desires and dreams.  By the time he has turned the desert into a home, his day is over....

* * * * *

If I could but make up my mind to burn that letter!  I weigh it, first in my right hand, then in my left.  Sometimes its weight makes me happy; sometimes it fills me with foreboding.  Do the words weigh so heavy, or only the paper?

Last night I held it close to the candle.  But when the flame touched my letter, I drew it quickly away.—­It is all I have left to me now....

* * * * *

Richard writes to me that Malthe has been commissioned to build a great hospital.  Most of our great architects competed for the work.  He goes on to ask whether I am not proud of “my young friend.”

My young friend!...

* * * * *

Jeanne spoke to me about herself to-day.  I think she was quite bewildered by the extraordinary fall of leaves which has almost blinded us the last three days.  She was doing my hair, and tracing a line straight across my forehead, she remarked: 

“Here should be a ribbon with red jewels.”

I told her that I had once had the same idea, but I had given it up out of consideration for my fellow creatures.

“But there are none here,” she exclaimed,

I replied laughing: 

“Then it is not worth while decking myself out!”

Jeanne took out the pins and let my hair down.

“If I were rich,” she said, “I would dress for myself alone.  Men neither notice nor understand anything about it.”

We went on talking like two equals, and a few minutes later, remembering what I had observed, I gave her some silk stockings.  Instead of thanking me, she remarked so suddenly that she took my breath away: 

“Once I sold myself for a pair of green silk stockings.”

I could not help asking the question: 

“Did you regret your bargain?”

She looked me straight in the face: 

“I don’t know.  I only thought about my stockings.”

Naturally such conversations are rather risky; I shall avoid them in future.  But the riddle is more puzzling than ever.  What brought Jeanne to share my solitude on this island?

* * * * *

Now we have a man about the place.  Torp got him.  He digs in the garden and chops wood.  But the odour impregnates Torp and even reaches me.

He makes eyes at Jeanne, who looks at me and smiles.  Torp makes a fuss of him, and every night I smell his pipe in the basement.