“Shame on him who can look on calmly and say, ‘Foolish girl! She should have waited; she should have let time wear off the impression; her despair would have been eased, and she would have found another lover to comfort her.’ One might as well say, ‘The fool, to die of a fever! Why did he not wait till his strength was restored, till his blood became calm? All would have gone well, and he would have been alive now.’”
Albert, who could not even now see the justice of the comparison, offered some further objections, amongst others, that I had taken the case of a mere ignorant girl. But how a rational being of sense, of more understanding and experience, could be excused, he was unable to comprehend. “My friend!” I exclaimed, “a man is a man; and whatever be the extent of his reasoning powers, they are of little avail when passion rages within, and he feels himself confined by the narrow limits of human nature. Rather—but let us talk of this some other time,” I said, and took my hat. My heart was over full; and we parted without having understood each other. How rare in this world is understanding!
August 15
There can be no doubt that in this world nothing makes us indispensable to each other but love alone. I know that Charlotte could not lose me without a pang, and the children will take it for granted that I should visit them every morning. I went this afternoon to tune Charlotte’s piano. But I could not do it, for the little ones insisted on my telling them a story; and Charlotte herself asked me to satisfy them. I gave them their supper, and they are now as fully contented with me as with Charlotte; and I told them my favorite tale of the princess who was waited upon by hands. I learn a great deal doing this and am surprised at the impression my stories create. If I sometimes invent a minor episode which I forget the next time, they are quick to remind me that the story was different before; so that I now practice reciting them unchanged in the same singsong tone which never changes. I learn by this how much an author injures his work by altering it in a second edition, even though it may be improved from a literary point of view. The first impression is readily received. We are so constituted that we believe the most incredible things; and, once they are engraved upon the memory, woe to him who would endeavor to erase them.
August 18
Must it ever be thus—that the source of our happiness must also be the fountain of our misery?
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