Do you know, I have actually found myself asking,
at times, with a certain defiant rage—if
you were actually going to give love to your princess
before you had made her suffer! So far you have
not made her suffer at all. I had become quite
excited over this idea —though perhaps
I had no right to. I suppose it is all right,
because she is an imaginary person, and you can endow
her with all the perfections you please. She
is triumphant and thrilling, and worthy of love—whereas
I am just little Corydon, whom you have known all
your life, and who is stupid and helpless, and impossible
to imagine romances about! Is that the way of
it?
MY DEAREST THYRSIS:
A long letter has just come to me. I always receive
your letters with many palpitations, and by the time
I get through reading, my cheeks are flaming.
It is too bad it takes letters so long to go to and
fro.
I have finally come to bear the attitude towards myself,
that I would to a naughty child. I will have
no nonsense, and all my absurdities and inefficiencies
must be cured. I think I have come to
know myself a little better within the last few days.
I know that I have no right to quick victories, or
any happiness at all, even your love. I tell
you truly, if it were only possible, I would go away
this minute—do you hear?—oh!
to some lonely place, and then I would do something
with myself. I want to be alone, alone—I
want to be face to face with myself, and God, if possible!
I have come to the conclusion that I can do anything
I must do. I think (I am not sure) I could give
you up, if I were obliged to, and go away by myself
and try alone. If I do not have you, I must have
solitude.
MY DEAREST CORYDON:
Thinking about my work this morning, and how hard
it was, and how much strength it would take, my thoughts
turned to you, and I discovered, as never before,
just how I like to think of you. It seemed to
me that you were part of the raw material that I had
to use; that I had mastered you, and was going to
make you what you had to be. And there woke in
my heart at those words a fierceness of purpose that
I had never felt in my life before—I was
quite mad with it; and you cried out to escape me,
but I would not let you go, but held you right tightly
in my arms. And so—I do not mean to
let you go! I shall bear you away with me, and
make you what I wish. And the promise of marriage
that I make you is just this: not that I love
you—I do not love you; but what I wish the
woman to be whom I am to love—that I will
make you!
And do not ever dare to ask me for any other promise,
for you will not get it. You will come with this.
MY THYRSIS:
I had an iron grip at my heart just now, as
I was trying to study. I had a foreboding of
something—and then I came home and found
your letter telling me I was yours, and I must.
At last I may go to you the way I wish! My love,
my love, I do not care what you are, or what you do
to me, as long as I may go with you.
