mon
pulse of our united life. There was no less abandon than religion in
our embrace. I besought you to yield to my frenzy and implored you to
be insatiable. And yet with calm presence of mind I watched for the
slightest sign of joy in you, so that not one should escape me to
impair the harmony. I not only enjoyed, but I felt and enjoyed the
enjoyment.

You are so extraordinarily clever, dearest Lucinda, that you have
doubtless long ere this begun to suspect that this is all nothing but
a beautiful dream. And so, alas, it is; and I should indeed feel very
disconsolate about it if I could not cherish the hope that at least a
part of it may soon be realized. The truth of the matter is this: Not
long ago I was standing by the window--how long I do not know, for
along with the other rules of reason and morality, I completely forgot
about the lapse of time. Well, I was standing by the window and
looking out into the open; the morning certainly deserves to be called
beautiful, the air is still and quite warm, and the verdure here
before me is fresh. And even as the wide land undulates in hills and
dales, so the calm, broad, silvery river winds along in great bends
and sweeps, until it and the lover's fantasy, cradled upon it like the
swan, pass away into the distance and lose themselves in the
immeasurable. My vision doubtless owes the grove and its southern
color-effect to the huge mass of flowers here beside me, among which I
see a large number of oranges. All the rest is readily explained by
psychology. It was an illusion, dear friend, all an illusion, all
except that, not long ago, I was standing, by the window and doing
nothing, and that I am now sitting here and doing something--something
which is perhaps little more than nothing, perhaps even less.

I had written thus far to you about the things I had said to myself,
when, in the midst of my tender thoughts and profound feelings about
the dramatic connection of our embraces, a coarse and unpleasant
occurrence interrupted me. I was just on the point of unfolding to you
in clear and precise periods the exact and straightforward history of
our frivolities and of my dulness. I was going to expound to you, step
by step, in accordance with natural laws, the misunderstandings that
attack the hidden centre of the loveliest existence, and to confess to
you the manifold effects of my awkwardness. I was about to describe
the apprenticeship of my manhood, a period which, taken a