DISGUST

Do you remember the day I left your house so suddenly and rushed out on the street? Or perhaps you do not recall it and did not remark my absence,—you had so many people there, and your house was fragrant with such quantities of flowers, and every one seemed to pretend at being gay, even if he were not. And I? I left it all behind me because I heard you boasting in such a light-hearted way of all we had dreamed of and loved so well. My heart trembled at your careless words and I closed my ears and rushed out before you should have killed my last illusion and made me hate you. Your house, which a few moments before seemed gay and bright, suddenly flung from out its windows the flag of hypocrisy, and became meaningless and empty. My head ached; and I hurried aimlessly along the street peering into the faces of the passers-by, thinking that in humanity I should find a solace and an answer.... But they only pushed and knocked against me and not one spirit spoke to me. Then I went into the museum and thought that there with art I could find revelation and be comforted. So I walked through the galleries, but I was followed unendingly by the same unsparing mob that jostled me in the streets and suspicious guards glared at me while all around hung low rows of portraits in heterogeneous fashion which, melting into one another, lost their personality and meant nothing to me. So I dragged myself out again into the spring air and walked wearily toward the park. There, reaching a bench, I sank down and thought at last I could relax undisturbed. But a drunken man came and sat beside me and nudged my elbow, so I rose and moved away and wondered if there were any place in the whole wide world where one could be really alone and unimbittered. Friendship, art and all the things I cherished seemed to have failed me. Suddenly I thought of death! Then, meditating on the last long sleep, a sense of great peace and the solitude I had longed for came over me.... But only for a brief instant, because I remembered with anguish that, even in death, one could not be alone; and the thought of overcrowded and congested cemeteries filled my soul with horror; and I shuddered!