PARTISAN
REVIEW
were late, dying of imagining you dead, corning to life again when you
came home and were really here, dying for fear that you'd leave.
And now I can breathe because you are talking to me. My dream
wasn't so silly, after all.
If
you cut us off, you're
cutting
the air tube
.... Of course, my dear; I slept. I slept because it was the first
time.
The doctor said so: it's an intoxication. The first night, you sleep.
And then the pain distracts you, it's all new, you can bear it. What you
can't bear is the second night, yesterday, or the third, tonight in a
few minutes, and tomorrow and the day after tomorrow and all
those days and days of doing
what,
dear God? .... I have no fever,
not the slightest fever; I can see clearly .... It's just because there
is
no way out that it would have been better for me to be brave and
tell you lies .... And .... and supposing I can go to sleep: after
sleeping there are dreams and waking up and eating and getting out
of bed and bathing and leaving the house and going-where? ... .
But my poor darling, all I've ever had to take up my time is you ... .
Forgive me! I was always busy, of course. Busy with you, for you
.... Martha has arranged her life . . .. It's as if you were to ask
a fish how he planned to arrange his life without water .... I keep
telling you, I don't need anybody . . . . Amusements! I'll tell you
something that isn't very poetic, but it's true: since that famous
Sunday night I've been amused exactly once, and that was at the
dentist's when he hit a nerve .... Alone .... Alone . ... Two days
now that he hasn't left the hall . . . . I've tried to call
him,
pet him.
He won't let anyone touch him. A little more, and he'd bite me ....
Yes, me, me! He turns back his lips and snarls. He's a different dog,
I tell you. He scares me . . . . At Martha's? I've told you that he
won't let anyone get near him. Martha had a terrible time leaving.
He didn't want to let her open the door .... It's even safer. I swear
that he frightens me. He doesn't eat any more. He doesn't move.
And when he looks
at
me I get goose flesh .... How should I know?
Maybe he thinks that I've harmed you . . . . Poor dog! . . . . I
have no reason to dislike
him.
I know it only too well. He loves you.
You don't come home. He thinks it's my fault .... Try to send
Joseph .... I think he'd go with Joseph .... Oh, me? .... Well,
more or less .... He didn't "adore" me at all! How do I know?
. . . . Well, maybe he seemed to, but I give you my word that it
wouldn't be a good idea for me to touch him now ....
If
you won't
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