Dear friends, I know you are all loyal to friendship.You come when you are called, just as I go when I hear your call.However, you have not seen me for three years.Your friendship has withstood the test of long absence, and may it also withstood the test of my account.The reason why I suddenly summoned you and made you travel a long distance to my residence is to meet you and ask you to listen to me.I don't ask for help, I just want to talk to you.Because I have reached the threshold of life, and it is difficult to pass.But it's not boredom, it's just my own incomprehension.I need to... tell you, I need to tell.It is nothing to be good at winning freedom, it is difficult to be good at using freedom. —Permit me to talk about myself; I will tell you my life, at will, without narrowing or exaggerating, and more frankly than I can tell myself.Listen to me: I remember the last time we met, it was in a small rural church on the outskirts of Angers, where I was having a wedding.There were not many guests, but they were all close friends, so that ordinary wedding was quite touching.I could see that everyone was very excited, and I was also excited.After leaving the church, you went to the bride's house and had a quick lunch with us.Then we boarded our rental car and set off; our minds were still in the conventional wisdom that a wedding requires travel.

I don't know my wife very well, and it doesn't make me very sad to think that she doesn't know me either.When I married her, I had no feelings, and mainly obeyed my father's order; my father was critically ill, and there was only one thing that worried me, fearing that I would be left alone in the world.During those painful days, I thought about my dying father, and wanted him to die in Jiuquan. I just finished my life-long affairs, but I didn't know what life would be like after marriage.The engagement ceremony was held on the bedside of the dying person. Naturally, there was no laughter, but there was also deep joy. How gratified my father was.Although I don't love my fiancée, at least I've never loved another woman.In my opinion, this is enough to ensure our happy life.I don't know much about myself yet, but I think I'm giving her all of my body and mind.Marceline is also an orphan, living with her two brothers.She has just turned twenty and I am four years older than her.

I said I didn't love her at all, at least I didn't have any feeling for her that is called love; but if love is understood as tenderness, a certain pity, and understanding respect, then I love her.She's a Catholic and I'm a Protestant... In fact, I don't feel like a Christian at all!The priest accepts me, and I accept the priest: there is nothing wrong with it. My father was an "atheist," as others have called him; at least that's what I infer, and I was never able to talk to him about his beliefs, either from my insurmountable shyness or, presumably, from him.The serious Huguenot education my mother gave me faded in me along with her beauty; you know that I lost my mother early in life.At that time I could not imagine how tightly the morality first received in childhood controls us, or what effect it leaves on our minds.While my mother instilled principles in me, she also passed on this old-fashioned and serious style to me, and I implemented them all in my research.I lost my mother when I was fifteen and was raised by my father; he not only loved me but also imparted knowledge to me.At that time I already knew Latin and Greek, and with him he quickly learned Hebrew, Sanskrit, and finally Persian and Arabic.In my late twenties, I advanced so far that he dared to let me join his research work.Also interested in me as an equal partner and tried to prove to me that I deserved it.The Discourses on the Adoration of the Phrygians, published in his name, were written by me, and he only read them over.For him, this is the greatest compliment.He was overjoyed, and I was ashamed to see such a superficial and occasional work succeed.However, I have since become famous.Those who have learned from ancient and modern times all treat me as colleagues.Now I can smile at all the accolades that are bestowed upon me... And so, at twenty-five, I deal almost exclusively with ruins and books, and know nothing of life;I like a few friends (including you), but I love the friendship, not them; I am very loyal to them, but it is the demand of high qualities; I value every good emotion in myself.However, I knew neither my friends nor myself.It never crossed my mind that I could have lived another life, that others might have lived differently.

①From the 16th century to the 18th century, the French Catholics called Calvinism. We, father and son, lived a simple and modest life with very little food and clothing, so that at the age of twenty-five I still did not know how rich my family was.I don't think much of that kind of thing, always thinking we're just making ends meet.I had developed a habit of frugality around my father, and it was a little embarrassing to realize that we were much richer.I didn't pay much attention to such mundane matters. Even after my father's death, as the only heir, I didn't know much about my property until I signed the marriage contract and found that Marceline had brought almost no dowry.

There was one more thing I didn't know, and perhaps even more important: my body was fragile.How would I know if I wasn't tested?I often catch a cold, and I don't treat it seriously.I live too peacefully, which both weakens and protects my body.Marceline, on the other hand, appeared to be quite fit; and we soon realized that she was indeed in better shape than I was. On the night of the festivities, we slept in my apartment in Paris; two rooms had already been packed.We stopped in Paris just to buy some necessities, then went to Marseilles, where we took a boat to Tunisia. I was exhausted by the rush, the bewildering confusion of ideas, the grief of my father's mourning, and the inevitable excitement of the wedding.I didn't feel tired until I got on the boat.Until then, everything adds to the fatigue and distracts me.As soon as I was idle on board, my mind was free.For the first time in my life, it seemed.

It is also the first time that I have been away from research work for such a long time.In the past, I would only take short-term vacations.Of course, several trips take a little longer.One was to go to Spain with my father not long after my mother passed away, which lasted for more than a month; the other time to go to Germany, which lasted a month and a half; and several times, all were work trips.During the trip, my father's research topics are very clear, and he never travels in mountains and rivers; as for me, as long as I don't accompany him, I will hold the book.But this time, as soon as we left Marseilles, images of Granada and Seville came to my mind, where the sky was bluer, the shade of the trees was cooler, and there were songs and laughter like festivals.I think we'll see this again on this trip.I climbed onto the deck and watched Marseilles gradually leave.

①Two places in Spain. Then it occurred to me that I had kind of left Maceline alone. She was sitting on the bow, and I stepped closer to see her for the first time. Marceline was very beautiful.You know that, you have seen her.I regret that I didn't notice it at the beginning.I know her too well to look at her with new eyes.Our two families are family friends; I grew up watching her, and I have long been accustomed to her flowery appearance... For the first time, I was surprised and thought she was so beautiful. She wore an ordinary black straw hat and let the big scarf dance.She was blond, but not effeminate.The skirt is the same fabric as the top, Scottish muslin that we picked together.I am in mourning myself, but I don't want her to dress too plainly.

She sensed that I was looking at her, and turned towards me... Up to that point, my attentions to her had been reluctant, at least substituting cold politeness for love;Did Maceline notice now that I was looking at her differently for the first time?She looked at me too, and then smiled at me very tenderly.I didn't say anything and sat down beside her.Until then, I lived for myself, at least according to my own will.I got married, but saw my wife as a partner, without considering how my life would change as a result of our union.Only then did I realize that the monologue was over. We're just the two of us on deck.She stretched her forehead to me, and I held her gently to my breast; she lifted her eyes, and I kissed her eyelids.The kiss was all right, and suddenly I felt a new pity fill my breast, and tears welled up in my eyes.

"What's the matter with you?" Marceline asked me. We started talking.I was fascinated by her beautiful words.Once upon a time, I had a stereotype based on observation that women were stupid.However, being around her that night made me feel stupid and stupid. In this way, the woman I marry has a real life of her own!This idea was so important that I woke up several times that night and got up from my berth several times to look at my wife Marceline's sleeping face on the berth below. The next day the sky was clear and the sea was almost calm.We chatted slowly for a few words, and the feeling of restraint was reduced again.Married life really begins.We disembarked in Tunisia on the morning of the last day of October.

I only intend to stay in Tunisia for a few days.Let me tell you about my stupid idea: In this new place I set foot, only Carthage and a few ruins of the Roman Empire interest me, such as Timgo, Su, which Octave introduced to me. The mosaic buildings of Sai, and especially the ancient theater of Jem, I shall hurry to see at once.First to Sousse, and from there to a stagecoach; I hope there will be nothing to see on the way. Tunisia, however, took me by surprise.Some parts of me, some unused dormant faculties, still retain their mysterious youth, excited by new encounters.I am not mainly delighted, but amazed, stunned; I am especially happy that Marceline is happy.

However, I was increasingly tired and self-conscious about not holding on.I coughed from time to time, and for some reason, my upper chest was flustered.I think we'll get better as we head south and the weather gets warmer. The Sfax coach left Sousse at eight o'clock in the evening, and passed Jem at one o'clock in the morning.We booked front compartment seats, expecting to find ourselves in an uncomfortable rough car; instead, we traveled in a reasonably comfortable car.Yet cold! ... Both of us believe in the warm climate in the south, and we are both dressed very thinly, with only a shawl. How naive and ridiculous is it?No sooner had we passed Sousse and its barrier of hills than the wind picked up.The wind jumped over the plains, roared, howled, and came in through every crack in the car door, making it impossible to guard against.We were all frozen when we arrived, and I was very tired from the bumpy journey, and my body was even more unable to support me with a bad cough.What a night! —What was to be done at Jem, where there was no inn, but a dilapidated fort for lodging?The stagecoach set off again.All the families in the village are asleep; the night seems endless, and the strange shape of the ruins can be seen faintly; the barking of dogs echoes one after another.We went back to the hall of the mound, where there were two broken beds; but at least there was shelter from the wind. ①A structure in North Africa that may be used as a dwelling, caravan inn, or fort. The next day was overcast.When we went out to have a look, we couldn't help being surprised, only to see that the sky was gray.The wind has not stopped, but it is a little weaker than last night.The stagecoaches don't pass here until evening... Tell you, it's a dreary day; the ancient theater runs out in a short time, which is rather disappointing; under this cloudy sky, I even think it is ugly.Maybe it's because of my exhaustion, I'm particularly bored.It was in vain to search for the inscription, and there was nothing to do near noon, so I gave up and returned.Marceline was reading an English book in a sheltered place, but luckily she brought it with her.I came back and sat down next to her. "What a miserable day! Don't you think it's very boring!" I asked. "No, look, I'm reading." "What are we doing here? You are not cold at all." "Not too cold. How about you? Really! You're pale." "It's okay..." In the evening, the wind blew again... The stagecoach finally arrived.We are on our way again. After a few bumps in the car, I felt my body fall apart.Marceline was very sleepy, and soon fell asleep leaning on my shoulder.I thought to myself that coughing would not wake her up, so I gently moved away and helped her lean towards the wall of the car.However, instead of coughing, I started to cough up phlegm; this was new and it was easy to spit it out, spitting out small sips at intervals, it was strange, at first I was almost happy, but it left a bad smell in my mouth, I Nausea quickly again.After a short time, my handkerchief was useless and my hands were stained.Do you want to wake Marceline? ... Fortunately, I remembered that there was a long scarf tucked into her belt, and I pulled it out gently.The phlegm was getting more and more, and I couldn't stop it anymore. After coughing up, I felt very relaxed, thinking that the cold would be cured soon.But suddenly, I felt weak, dizzy, as if I was going to faint.Do you want to wake her up? ……Ugh!never mind! ... (I think I have been influenced by the Puritans since my childhood, and I always hated any behavior that gave up on myself because of weakness, and immediately called it cowardice).I pulled myself together, grabbed something, and finally got over the dizziness... I just felt like I was sailing on the sea again, and the sound of the wheels became the sound of the waves... However, I stopped phlegm. Then I became groggy and dozed off. When I woke up, the sky was full of dawn.Marceline was still asleep.Almost at the station.The long scarf in my hand was black, and I didn't see anything for a while, but when I took out the handkerchief and looked at it, I couldn't help being dumbfounded, only to see that it was covered with blood. My first thought was to hide from Maceline.But, how can we prevent her from seeing Ye's blood? —the whole body was covered with blood, now I can see clearly, everywhere, especially on the fingers... It really looks like a nosebleed... Good idea; if she asks, I will say nosebleed. Marceline has been asleep.Arrived.She was busy getting out of the car first, but didn't see anything.We booked two rooms.I took the opportunity to rush into my room and wash off the blood.Marceline found nothing. However, I was very weak, and ordered the clerk to bring us both tea.Her face was also a little pale, but she was very calm. She poured tea with a smile on her face. I couldn't help being annoyed at the side, blaming her for not paying attention and turning a blind eye.Of course, I also felt that I was being unfair, thinking that I had covered her up so well that I kept her in the dark.It's useless to think like this, the breath just doesn't go well, it grows in me like an instinct, invades my heart... and finally becomes very strong; I can't help it anymore, and said to her as if casually : "I vomited blood last night." She didn't scream, but her face became paler, her body swayed, and she wanted to stand still, but she fell to the floor. I rushed over like crazy: Marceline!Marceline! ——Damn it!What's wrong with me!Is it not enough that I am sick alone? —As I said just now, I am very weak and almost faint.I opened the door and called for someone, and the man came running. I remembered that there was a letter of recommendation in the box, which was addressed to an officer in the city; based on this letter, I sent for the army doctor. However, Marceline came back to life; now, she leaned over my bed, and I was lying on the bed trembling with fever, the army doctor came and examined us both; he made it clear that Marceline was all right, I was not hurt in the fall; as for me, I was seriously ill; he would not even say what it was, promising to come back before evening. The military doctor came again, he smiled at me, said a few words to me, and gave me several medicines.I understand that he thinks my illness is incurable. —Shall I tell the truth?I didn't startle at the time.I was very tired and had no choice but to sit and wait. ——"In the end, what has life given me? I worked hard to the last breath, and I did my duty with determination and enthusiasm. The rest...huh! What does it have to do with me?" The few desires are commendable.It's just that the place is too shabby. "This room is dilapidated," I looked around the room.It occurred to me that in the same room next door there was my wife Marceline; and I heard her voice.The doctor hadn't left yet, and was talking to her, trying to keep his voice as low as possible.After a while, I probably fell asleep. When I woke up, Marceline was beside me.I could tell she was crying.I don't love life enough to spare myself.It's just that the place is shabby.I looked awkward.My gaze fell on her almost with pleasure. Now, she writes beside me.I think she is beautiful.I saw her seal several letters.Then she got up and walked to my bed and gently took my hand: "How are you feeling now?" she asked.I smiled and said sadly, "Can I be cured?" She immediately replied, "It is cured!" Her words were full of such strong confidence that I almost believed them too.Like a vague perception of the whole prospect of life and her love, so moved and beautiful visions dimmed before my eyes that tears welled up in my eyes.I cried for a long time, neither able nor wanting to control myself. Marceline is really admirable, with what ardent love she persuaded me to leave Sousse, from Sousse to Tunisia, and from Tunisia to Constantine... how she supported, healed, protected, and she was so affectionate Considerate!It was not until Biskra's disease was cured.She is full of confidence and enthusiasm, arranging the itinerary, booking the room, and preparing for everything.well!There was nothing she could do to make the trip less painful.There were several times when I felt that I could no longer go, that I was going to die.I sweated profusely like a dying person, couldn't breathe, and sometimes passed out.Arriving at Biskra in the evening of the third day, I was dying.