第92部分(第1/7 页)

illusory；　conceited　fulfilment　which　she　had　imagined　she　could

not　have　with　Skrebensky。　Who　was　she　to　be　wanting　some

fantastic　fulfilment　in　her　life？　Was　it　not　enough　that　she　had

her　man；　her　children；　her　place　of　shelter　under　the　sun？　Was

it　not　enough　for　her；　as　it　had　been　enough　for　her　mother？　She

would　marry　and　love　her　husband　and　fill　her　place　simply。　That

was　the　ideal。

Suddenly　she　saw　her　mother　in　a　just　and　true　light。　Her

mother　was　simple　and　radically　true。　She　had　taken　the　life

that　was　given。　She　had　not；　in　her　arrogant　conceit；　insisted

on　creating　life　to　fit　herself。　Her　mother　was　right；

profoundly　right；　and　she　herself　had　been　false；　trashy；

conceited。

A　great　mood　of　humility　came　over　her；　and　in　this　humility

a　bondaged　sort　of　peace。　She　gave　her　limbs　to　the　bondage；　she

loved　the　bondage；　she　called　it　peace。　In　this　state　she　sat

down　to　write　to　Skrebensky。

Since　you　left　me　I　have　suffered　a　great　deal；　and　so　have

e　to　myself。　I　cannot　tell　you　the　remorse　I　feel　for　my

wicked；　perverse　behaviour。　It　was　given　to　me　to　love　you；　and

to　know　your　love　for　me。　But　instead　of　thankfully；　on　my

knees；　taking　what　God　had　given　me；　I　must　have　the　moon　in　my

keeping；　I　must　insist　on　having　the　moon　for　my　own。　Because　I

could　not　have　it；　everything　else　must　go。

I　do　not　know　if　you　can　ever　forgive　me。　I　could　die　with

shame　to　think　of　my　behaviour　with　you　during　our　last　times；

and　I　don't　know　if　I　could　ever　bear　to　look　you　in　the　face

again。　Truly　the　best　thing　would　be　for　me　to　die；　and　cover　my

fantasies　for　ever。　Bu