But, great God, surely this is madness! and yet I kept on just as before.
After a long time, perhaps a couple of hours, I pulled myself sharply
together, bit my lips, and manned myself as well as I could. There must be
an end to this! I found a splinter to chew, and set myself resolutely to
again.
A couple of short sentences formed themselves with much trouble, a score
of poor words which I tortured forth with might and main to try and
advance a little. Then I stopped, my head was barren; I was incapable of
more. And, as I could positively not go on, I set myself to gaze with wide
open eyes at these last words, this unfinished sheet of paper; I stared at
these strange, shaky letters that bristled up from the paper like small
hairy creeping things, till at last I could neither make head nor tail of
any of it. I thought on nothing.
Time went; I heard the traffic in the street, the rattle of cars and tramp
of hoofs. Jens Olaj's voice ascended towards me from the stables as he
chid the horses. I was perfectly stunned. I sat and moistened my lips a
little, but otherwise made no effort to do anything; my chest was in a
pitiful state. The dusk closed in; I sank more and more together, grew
weary, and lay down on the bed again. In order to warm my fingers a little
I stroked them through my hair backwards and forwards and crosswise. Small
loose tufts came away, flakes that got between my fingers, and scattered
over the pillow.
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