It was very sad when I discovered that she was deceiving me; — but there was so much else with it! — the fury and sudden hatred, and the horror of existence, and — ah, yes — the wounded vanity; — the sorrow only came later! But then there was the consolation that she also must be suffering. I still have them all, I can reread them at any time, those dozens of letters which sob, pray, and beseech forgiveness! And I can still see her before me, in her dark dress and small straw hat, standing at the street corner in the twilight as I stepped out of the gate… looking after me…. And I still think of our last meeting, when she stood in front of me with her large, beautiful eyes, set in that round, child-like face that now had become pale and wan. I did not give her my hand when she left me; — when she left me for the last time. And I watched her go down the street from my window and then she disappeared forever. Now she can never return