Chapter 8 chapter eight
But I saw Alyssa again... three years later, towards the end of summer.About ten months before that, Alyssa wrote to tell me that my uncle had died of illness.I was visiting Palestine at the time, and wrote a rather long reply, but received no answer...
Later, forgetting what it was, I went to Le Havre and walked naturally to the Grange Fengesmar.I knew that I could see Alyssa when I went in, but I was afraid that she would have someone else.I didn't notify in advance, and I didn't want to visit like ordinary guests, so I hesitated in my heart and hesitated: Shall I go in, or leave without even seeing each other? ...Yes, of course not better.I just walked on the avenue and sat on the bench: maybe she still sits there from time to time... I even started to think about leaving some kind of mark to show her that I have been here and gone ... I just walked slowly while thinking like this, and now that I have decided not to meet each other, the sadness in my heart has turned into a touch of sadness.I was already on the avenue, and, fearing being caught, I walked on the sidewalk, which followed the slope of the Grange wall.I knew that the slope overlooked the garden a little bit, and when I climbed up, I saw a gardener I didn't recognize raking a flower path, and in a moment he disappeared from my view.The new fence gate to the compound is closed.The watchdog barked when he heard me pass.After a short distance the avenue came to an end, so I turned to the right, came under the garden wall again, and then wanted to go to the beech grove parallel to the avenue I had just left. One thought: enter the garden through the small gate.
The small door was plugged in, but the latch was weak, and I was about to knock it open with my shoulder... Suddenly I heard footsteps, and I hid in a corner.
I couldn't see who came out of the garden, but I could tell it was Alyssa from the sound.She took three steps forward and whispered:
"Is that you, Jerome? . . . "
My beating heart stopped abruptly, my throat constricted, and I couldn't even speak; so she raised her voice again, and repeated:
"Jerome, is that you?"
Hearing her call me like this, my heart was so excited that I couldn't help falling on my knees.Since I hadn't responded, Alyssa took a few more steps forward, turned the corner, and suddenly I felt her closeness—very close, and I covered my face with my arms, as if afraid of seeing her right away. like.She leaned over to look at me for a moment, and I kissed her delicate hands all over.
"Why are you hiding?" she asked, her tone was very natural, as if she had not seen each other for three years, but only a few days.
"How do you know it was me?"
"I'm waiting for you."
"Are you waiting for me?" I was so surprised that I could only repeat her words in a questioning tone...
Seeing that I was still kneeling on the ground, she said:
"Go, go to the bench. Yes, I knew I could see you again. These three days, I have come here every evening, calling you like this evening...why don't you answer?"
"If you hadn't come to meet me, I would have left without even meeting you." I said, and tried my best to control the unbearable excitement when we first met. "I was passing through Le Havre, and I just wanted to take a walk on this boulevard, to walk around the garden, to sit on a bench in a peat quarry for a while, I think you still come to sit there, and then..."
"Look at what I've been reading here for the past three evenings." She interrupted me and handed me a pack of letters.I recognized it as my letter to her from Italy.At this time, I raised my eyes and saw that she had become very pale, thin and pale, and felt like a knife was twisting my heart.She clung to me, pressed against my arm, as if frightened or chilled.She was still wearing heavy mourning, and the headdress was only tied with a black lace headband, which made her face look paler from the sides.She was smiling, but she seemed to be collapsing.I asked her uneasily if she was living alone in Fengesmar now.No, Robert was with her.In August, Juliet, Edward and the three children didn't work together for a while... I walked to the bench and sat down. This conversation about living conditions continued for a while.She asked me about my work situation, and I was very reluctant to answer, because I wanted to make her feel that I was not interested in work.I'm just going to disappoint her as much as she disappoints me.However, she remained calm, and I don't know if she achieved her goal.As for me, I was full of resentment and affection, and tried to speak to her in the coldest tone, but hated myself for not being up to date, and sometimes my voice trembled with excitement.
The setting sun was covered by clouds for a while, and when it was about to sink to the horizon, it came out again, almost facing us, and a quivering glow covered the empty fields for a moment, and suddenly poured into the small valley at our feet; then, the sun disappeared.My eyes were full of the brilliant sunlight, and I didn't say anything. I just felt that I was bathed in the golden light, and I was fascinated. The resentment disappeared, and there was only the voice of love in my heart.Alyssa has been leaning over to lean on me, now straightened up, took out a thin paper packet from her chest, and wanted to hand it to me, but she hesitated, she seemed to be hesitant, seeing that I was looking at her in surprise, she went said:
"Listen to me, Jerome, this is my amethyst cross. I have been carrying it with me for three evenings, because I have wanted to give it to you for a long time."
"What's the use of giving it to me?" I said rather bluntly.
"Give it to your daughter, it's your wish to keep me."
"What daughter?" I looked at Alyssa in puzzlement and said loudly.
"Please, listen to me calmly; don't look at me like that, don't look at me; it's hard for me to talk. But I must tell you this. Listen, Jerome, always One day, are you going to get married?...Don't, don't answer me, don't interrupt me, I'm begging you here. I just want you to remember that I loved you so much and... I already had this I have an idea... It has been in my heart for three years... This little cross you love, one day in the future, your daughter will wear it as a memorial to me, huh! But she doesn't know whose it is... You named her Sometimes...maybe you can use my name..."
Her voice was choked up and she could not go on; I cried out almost hostilely:
"Why don't you give it to her yourself?"
What else would she say.Her lips moved like a sobbing child's, but no tears were shed; her eyes were so bright that the face radiated with a supernatural, angelic beauty.
"Alyssa! Who can I marry? You clearly know that the only one I love is you..." Suddenly, I hugged her desperately, put her in my arms almost rudely, and kissed her lips hard .For a moment, she seemed to obey, and she fell half into my arms. Her eyes were blurred, and then she closed her eyes, and at the same time said in a voice that sounded extremely accurate and harmonious to me:
"Have pity on us, my friend! Oh! don't ruin our love."
Maybe she also said: Don't be cowardly in doing things!Perhaps I was talking to myself, and I don't know; but suddenly I knelt down before her, embraced her sincerely, and said:
"If you love me so much, why do you keep rejecting me? You see! First I waited for Juliet to marry; I understand you waited for her to be happy; and now she is happy, you told me yourself. It's been a long time." For a while, I thought that you would continue to live with your father; but now, there are only two of us left."
"Well! The past is the past, let us not regret it," she murmured, "and now I have turned the page."
"It's still too late, Alyssa."
"No, my friend, it's too late. Remember that day, out of love, we held each other's expectations higher than love, and since that day it's too late. Thanks to you, my friend, my Dreams go up so high and so high, and talk of any earthly joy makes it fall. I've often wondered what it would be like if we lived together: Once our love...is no longer perfect, I can't Tolerate it any longer..."
"Have you ever wondered what our lives would be like without each other?"
"No! Never."
"Now, you see! In the past three years, without you, I have been wandering hard..."
Night fell.
"I'm cold." She stood up and wrapped her shawl so tightly that I couldn't take her arm anymore. "You remember this verse of the Bible when we were troubled and worried that we didn't understand it well: 'They didn't get what was promised to them, because God has kept something better for us...'"
"Do you always believe these words?"
"I have to believe it."
We walked side by side, and no one spoke again.After a while, she continued:
"Just imagine, Jerome; the most beautiful!" Tears welled up in her eyes, and she repeated, "The most beautiful!"
We walked to the small gate of the vegetable garden where I had seen her come out just now.She turned to face me.
"Farewell!" she said. "No, don't you go any further." Farewell, my beloved.The best part...is about to start now. "
She stared at me for a moment, her eyes filled with indescribable love, her arms outstretched, her hands on my shoulders, pulling me and pushing me away...
As soon as the little door was closed again, and as soon as I heard the sound of her fastening the bolt, I threw myself on the ground beside it, and wept for a long time in the night, in a state of grief.
Why don't you grab her, why don't you slam the door open, why don't you break into a house that won't refuse to accept me, no, even if I look back at the whole process of this past today... I don't think I can do that, people who can't understand me now, It shows that he still doesn't understand me.
I was so disturbed that I couldn't bear it, and a few days later I wrote to Juliet, telling her how disturbed I was to see Alyssa pale and emaciated; I begged her to take care of herself. And give me a message, but I can't wait for Alyssa to write.
Less than a month after the letter was sent, I received this reply:
Dear Jerome:
I have very sad news to tell you: our poor Alyssa has passed away... Alas!The concerns you express in your letter are entirely justified.During the last few months she had been debilitating, without any apparent ailments; but, after my repeated entreaties, she consented to see Dr. A. in Le Havre; who wrote me that she was not seriously ill.However, on the third day after you visited her, she suddenly left Fengsmar.This is what Robert wrote to me, but for Robert, I would not have known that she had gone away from home. She seldom wrote to me, so I would not soon be alarmed if I did not hear from her.I reproached Robert severely, should not let her go, should accompany her to Paris.Would you believe it; since that time we have no knowledge of her whereabouts.You can tell it really worries me to death; I can't see her, I can't write to her.A few days later, Robert went to Paris, but found no clue.He was so sluggish that we doubted he was trying his best.The police must be called, we cannot always be in this torturous state of unknown circumstances.So Edward went, and after careful searching, he finally found the small nursing home where Alyssa was hiding.Too late!I had a letter from the superintendent of the sanitarium informing me of her death, and a telegram from Edward saying that he hadn't even been able to see her for the last time.On the day of her death she wrote our address in one envelope, so that we might be notified, and in another envelope she contained a copy of the letter to the notary of Le Havre, in which the will was written in its entirety.There is a passage in the letter that I want to relate to you, and I will tell you shortly.Edward and Robert had attended the funeral the day before yesterday.In addition to the two of them, there were several patients who escorted the coffin: they must attend the funeral and accompany her body to the cemetery.Unfortunately, I can't go, the fifth child is due at any moment.
My dear Jerome, I know that the news of her death will cause you great sorrow, and it is with a piercing heart that I write to you.For two days now I have been confined to bed, and I am laboriously writing letters, but I do not want anyone, not even Edward and Robert, to write them for me, except for me to tell you about people whom only we two know.Now, I am almost an old housewife, thick ashes have covered the fiery past, now I can, hope to see you again.If you are in Nîmes for errands or pleasure, come to Egues-Weaver.Edward would be delighted to meet you, and we—one can talk about Alyssa too.Goodbye, dear Jerome.I hug you very sadly.
A few days later I learned that Alyssa had left the farm of Fengismar to her brother, but requested that all the contents of her room, and the few pieces of furniture she had appointed, be sent to Juliet.Soon I will receive a packet of materials sealed and mailed to me.I also learned that she had asked for an amethyst crucifix that I had rejected the last time we saw her: Edward told me that her last wish had come true.
A parcel of confidential documents forwarded to me by the notary, containing Alyssa's diary.I have transcribed many articles here. ——Just a copy, without comment.It is not difficult to imagine that when I read these diaries, I must express the feelings and shocks in my heart.
Departed from Le Havre the day before yesterday, arrived in Nîmes yesterday.This is my first trip!Not having to worry about housework, not having to cook, is a bit idle, and today, May 24, 188X, on my twenty-fifth birthday, I started writing a diary—not much fun, but kind of For, perhaps for the first time in my life, I feel lonely; I have come to this foreign land, this almost strange land, which I am not yet familiar with.It must have told me something like Normandy told me, and I could never tire of hearing it in Fengs Marr—for God is the same wherever he is—yet this southern land told a I can't help but be amazed to hear it in a language I haven't learned.
Juliet dozed off on the couch next to me.The open-air verandah we are on, which adds to the charm of this Italian-style house, is level with the sandy courtyard that leads to the garden...Juliet stays on the lounger, and can see the lawn that undulates to the pond and sees the water playing A flock of colorful wild ducks, and two swans cruising.The source of the water is said to be a brook, which never runs dry in summer; but the brook runs through the garden, through increasingly wild groves, narrows between parched bushes and vineyards, and is soon suffocated entirely. up.
...While I was with Juliet yesterday, Édouard Tessier showed my father the garden, the farm, the storerooms, and the vineyards,—so early this morning I took my first walk and explored the garden alone.I don't know many flowers and trees here and I really want to know their names. I just break a twig of each plant so that I can ask others during lunch.I recognized one, the green oak admired by Jerome at the Villa Borghesa or at the Doria-Pomfilli... a distant relative of this tree in our province of Nores, very different in appearance; Mao, which almost covers a small open space at the end of the garden, casts a mysterious color on this soft lawn, which is enough to attract fairies to sing.My emotion for nature was deeply imprinted by Christianity in Fengsmar, but when I arrived here, it was involuntarily stained with mythology. I couldn't help being surprised and even a little panicked.However, this fear, which is more and more oppressive to me, is still religious.I am still thinking: hic nemus①. ①Latin, meaning "this is the woods".The air is particularly fresh, and the surroundings are surprisingly quiet.I thought of Orpheus, and of Orpheus: the poet, singer, and harp-player in Greek mythology.Mida ①, ① Armida: The protagonist in the five-act tragedy "Almida" by the French writer Gino of the century.Also, a character in the long poem "Jerusalem Liberated" by Italian poet Tasso in the 16th century.Suddenly I heard a bird cry, a single cry, right next to me, extremely melodious and clear, as if the whole nature was waiting for this cry.My heart was beating violently, and I leaned against a tree for a while before returning to my room, and no one in the whole family got up.
There has been no news of Jerome.Even if his letter is sent to Le Havre, it will be forwarded to me... I can only express my uneasiness to this diary; Can relieve me for a moment.Nor can I write anything else today: the nameless melancholy that arose after my arrival at Egg-Weaver probably had no other cause. ——This kind of sadness, in the deepest part of my heart, now I feel that I have already existed, but it is covered by the joy I am proud of.
Why lie to yourself?I was delighted at Juliet's happiness by reasoning.How sincerely I wished for her happiness at the beginning, and was even willing to sacrifice my happiness for it, but today I painfully see that this happiness comes so easily, and it is very different from what the two of us imagined at the beginning!How complicated it is!If... I could tell and see that Juliet was finding happiness elsewhere than in my sacrifice, that she was happy without my sacrifice, I felt hurt and only revived by a strong sense of selfishness .
Now, with my uneasiness about not hearing from Jerome, I should ask myself: Am I really willing to make the sacrifice?I felt humiliated that God no longer required me to do so.Didn't I do it in the first place?
How dangerous it must be to dissect my sadness in this way!My mind has been poured into this diary.I thought I had overcome the coquettish mentality, but has it raised its head again here?No, may this diary not serve as a mirror of self-pity for my soul!I keep my diary out of sadness, not out of boredom, as I first thought.Grief is a "criminal state of mind" that I have long since lost and still hate, I want to "simplify" my soul and clear it.This diary should help my soul regain its joy.
Grief is a complex emotion.Back then I never analyzed my happiness.
I am alone in Fengsmar, even more alone than here... But why don't I feel alone?When Jerome wrote to me from Italy, I confessed that he could and lived without me, and that my thoughts followed him and shared his joys.But now, I can't help calling him, feeling that without him, all the novel scenes would be annoying...
This diary has just begun, and it has been interrupted for so long, because Liz was born, and I watched Juliet for a long time every night; I have no interest in writing in the diary to tell Jerome about it.I want to avoid the intolerable common fault of many women: the diary is too trivial.This diary, I want to use as a means of self-improvement.
The next many pages are fragments of her reading notes and excerpts, and so on.Then, here is her diary in Fengsmaar again:
Juliet was happy, she said, and she seemed to be: I had no right, no reason to doubt... But where did this uneasy feeling of inadequacy come from when I was around her? ——Maybe I feel that this kind of happiness is too real, it is too easy to get, it is completely "specially made", I am afraid it will bind and suffocate the soul...
Now I can't help knocking on the door myself, what I expect is happiness, or the process of leading to happiness.Oh God!Beware of me getting happiness that is too soon!Teach me to procrastinate, to postpone my happiness until your side.
The pages that followed, torn out, must have been the diary of our painful encounter at Le Havre.It was not until the following year that the diary was resumed, but it was not dated but must have been written during my stay at Fengesmar.
I sometimes listen to him as if I watch myself think.He explained my situation.reveal myself to myself.Do I even exist without him?I only exist when I am with him...
I sometimes hesitate, is my feeling for him really what people call love?The general picture of love is very different from what I can picture.I wish to say nothing, to love him without knowing that I love him, and above all to love him without him knowing.
In life without him, no matter what I go through, I will not have the slightest joy.All my virtue was only to please him, but when I was near him I felt that my virtue was not to be trusted.
I like to play piano etudes, so I feel like I can improve a little every day.Maybe this is also the secret of my love of foreign language books: it’s not that I prefer any foreign language, nor that I appreciate my own writers less than foreign ones, but that the meaning and emotion in the book need to be pondered. If you think about it thoroughly, and if you think more and more thoroughly, you may inadvertently develop a sense of pride, and add indescribable spiritual satisfaction to the spiritual pleasure, and I seem to be inseparable from this kind of spiritual satisfaction.
Not being in a state of progress, no matter how happy, is not desirable.The heavenly pleasures I imagine are not like being confused with God, but like a continual and never-ending closeness... If I am not afraid to play with words, I would say that it is not a "progressive" pleasure, and I would say it is not a "progressive" pleasure. dismissive.
This morning we sat alone on a bench in the boulevard; we didn't talk, and we didn't need to. Suddenly he asked me if I believed in an afterlife.
"Of course I do, Jerome," I said loudly at once. "It seems to me more than a hope, but a certainty..."
I suddenly felt that all my beliefs were expressed in this cry.
"I'd love to know," he said again...he paused for a moment before adding, "Would your attitude towards life be different if you didn't have faith?"
"How do I know?" I answered, and added: "You yourself, my friend, are driven by your most ardent convictions, and it is no longer possible for you to change your attitude towards life. You change, I won't love you anymore."
No, Jerome, our virtue is not to seek afterlife rewards: neither is our love to seek rewards.The idea of suffering for retribution is an injury to a naturally noble mind.Virtue is not an adornment of a noble mind: no, but an expression of spiritual beauty.
Dad's health is not very good, I hope there is no serious illness, but for three days in a row, he can only drink milk.
Last night, after Jerome went upstairs to his room, Papa and I had a little more time, but we went out for a while.I was all alone, and I sat down on the couch, or rather lay down, which I almost never have for some reason.The lampshade covered the light, my eyes and upper body were in the shadows, and the toes were slightly protruding from under the dress, which happened to reflect a little light, and I mechanically looked at my toes.At this time, Dad came back, he stopped at the door for a moment, looked at me with a strange expression, both smiling and sad, and saw that I was a little embarrassed, so he hurriedly sat up; yes, he waved to me.
"Come here, sit next to me." He said to me.Even though it was late, he talked to me about my mother, something he hadn't done since their separation.He told me how he had married her, how he had loved her, and what my mother had meant to him in those early days.
"Father," I asked at last, "please tell me, why are you telling me this tonight, what caused it, and why are you telling me this tonight?"
"Just because I saw you lying on the couch when I went back to the living room, I thought I saw your mother again for a moment."
I remember this scene especially because of this night... Jerome leaned over my shoulder to read the book I was holding, leaning on the back of my chair.I couldn't see him, but I could feel his breath, like the heat and trembling from his body.I pretended to continue reading, but I couldn't understand the meaning of what was said in the book, and I couldn't even distinguish the number of lines, and my heart was inexplicably confused.While I was still able to control myself, I hurriedly stood up and left the living room for a while, but fortunately he didn't notice anything... Later, I was the only one left in the living room, and I was lying on the sofa. Dad thought I was like a mother, And I happened to be thinking of her at the time.
Last night, I slept very restlessly, and the heavy past came to my heart like a wave of regret.Lord, teach me to hate everything that seems evil.
Poor Jerome!How did he know, sometimes he just needs a move, and sometimes I just wait for the move...
When I was a little girl, I already thought about him and wished I was prettier.Thinking about it now, I have always "pursued perfection" only for him, and this kind of perfection can only be achieved without him, God!It is this one of your teachings that confuses my soul the most.
How happy is the soul that unites virtue and love!Sometimes I wonder if there is any virtue other than love, love to the fullest, love without end... But some days, alas!Virtue and love, it seems to me, are totally incompatible.what!The most natural inclinations of my heart, dare I call them virtues!O tempting sophistry!The temptation of sweet words!Deceitful vision of happiness!
This morning, I saw such a passage in the works of La Bruyère①: ①La Bruyère (1645-1696), French prose writer, author of "Character Record".
"On the road of life, sometimes we encounter forbidden pleasures of great value, vows of great affection, and it is only human that we long to at least allow them: a fascination so great that only another can surpass it, namely Let go of all these charms by virtue."
Why should I conceive of prohibition?Is there a charm stronger and sweeter than love that secretly attracts me?what!How wonderful it would be if we could love so deeply that two people could transcend love at the same time! ...
well!Now I understand it more than ever: between him and God there is only me.If, as he told me, his love for me might have at first inclined him to God, it has now become a hindrance to him.He is always in love with me, only me in his heart, and I become his idol, which hinders his great strides on the road of virtue.One of us must reach that first; but my heart is too weak to hope to overcome love, God, allow me and give me strength to teach him to love me no more; I sacrifice my merits, Dedicate his infinite and beautiful merits to you... If I lose him, my heart will cry today, but isn't it just for the sake of reuniting with him in you in the future...
my Lord!Is there anything more worthy of your heart?When he was born in this world, didn't he have a higher pursuit than loving me?If he stagnates at my level, will I still love him the same?How narrow is everything that can be sublime if it is indulged in bliss! ...
"God has reserved something better for us."
Happiness is right in front of his eyes, close at hand, if he wants it,... as long as he stretches out his hand, he can grab it...
Having spoken to him this morning, I made the sacrifice.
he leaves tomorrow...
Dear Jerome, I have loved you infinitely, and always, but with a love I will never be able to tell you.The bondage I have imposed on my eyes, my lips, and my heart is so severe that it is a relief, a bitter satisfaction, to be separated from you.
I try to act according to reason, but the moment I act, the reasons that impel me to act go away from me, or become ridiculous to me, so I don't believe anymore...
The reason that drives me to run from him?I don't believe it anymore... But I run from him all the same, but with sadness and without knowing why I do.
Oh God!Jerome and I, we come to you, encourage each other, walk hand in hand, and walk the avenue of life, like two pilgrims who sometimes say to the other: "If you are tired, brother, lean on me body." And the other replied: "Just feeling you by my side is enough..." But no!The way you show us, Lord, is a narrow way, too narrow for two to walk side by side.
I haven't opened this diary for more than six weeks.I re-read a few pages last month and found a ludicrous, sinful notion to write beautifully...for him to read...
I kept my diary, meant to get rid of him, and now it was as if I kept writing to him.
I tore up pages that I thought were "beautifully written" (and I knew what that meant).All the parts that talk about him should be torn out, and even the entire diary should be torn up...but I couldn't do it.
I tore up those few pages, and I felt a little complacent... If I didn't have such a serious heart disease, I would find it funny.
I do feel like I did a great job and ripped off something vital!
I had to clean my bookshelf...
I took book after book to avoid him, but I kept meeting him.Even the chapters I discovered alone, I seem to hear his voice recited to me.I am only interested in what he is interested in, and my thoughts take his form, and the two are as indistinguishable as I used to be when I was happy to confuse the two.
Sometimes I write badly on purpose in order to escape the rhythm of his sentences: yet this struggle with him shows that he cannot be forgotten.I simply decided to read only the Bible (and perhaps The Imitation of Christ) for a while, and also, in my diary, to record only what I read each day. .Read the prominent chapters.
Beginning July 1st, like the "Daily Bread," I transcribed a scripture a day.I will only transcribe here a few passages with comments.
"Sell everything you have and give it to the poor." According to my understanding: my heart, which I only want to give to Jerome, should also be given to the poor.Doesn't that teach him to do it at the same time? ... Lord, give me courage.
I stopped reading "Eternal Comfort".Just because I am very interested in this ancient saying, I often distract myself while reading it, and taste the joy of almost pagans, which violates my original intention of gaining lessons from it.
Picked up "The Imitation of Christ" again, but not the Latin text that I looked at too hard to understand.I like that the translation I'm reading isn't even signed - it's Protestant, of course, but the subtitle says, "For All Christian Communities."
"Ah! If you knew what peace you get yourself, and what happiness you give to others, by walking the path of virtue, you would do it more diligently."
O God, I call to you with the passion of child's faith, with the divine voice of an angel...
All this, I know, comes from you, not from Jerome.
But why, you want to put his image between you and me?
It took more than two months to complete the work... Lord!give me a hand!
I feel clearly, I feel clearly from sorrow, that the sacrifice I am about to make is not complete in my heart.Lord, let me realize that the joy He alone gives me is entirely yours.
How mediocre, how pathetic, is the state of virtue I have attained!Am I being too hard on myself? — don't suffer from it any more.
On what a cowardly basis do you always beg God for strength!Now all my supplications are a cry of mourning.
"Look at the lilies in the field..."
Such a simple sentence, but this morning I was plunged into an undispelled sadness.When I came to the field, my heart and eyes were full of tears, and I couldn't help repeating this sentence again and again.I looked at the open plains, and saw the peasants bending over to hold the plow and plowing the land with difficulty... "The lily of the wilderness..." God, where is it?
I saw him again.He is in this small building.I see the light from his window onto the lawn.When I wrote these few lines, he hadn't fallen asleep, maybe he was still thinking about me.He hasn't changed; he says it, and it feels the same to me.Can I behave according to my own decision so as to cause him to withdraw his love for me? ... oh!What a cruel conversation, I pretended to be indifferent and cold, while my heart was intoxicated... Before that, I just avoided him.This morning I felt God has given me strength enough to win, and it would be cowardly to avoid the struggle.Am I victorious?Does Jerome love me any less? ……Ugh!It's something I both hope and fear...I love him more than ever. Lord, save him from me, and if I must be destroyed, do it! ... "Come into my heart and soul, so that you may take away my pain and bear in me what remains of your persecution." We talked about Pascal... what can I say to him?What shameful and ridiculous words!I am pained as I speak, and regret this evening as if it were blasphemy.I picked up the heavy "Thoughts" again, and the book opened automatically. It was the part of the letter to Miss de Roanez: "When we voluntarily follow those who drag us down, we don't feel bound. If we start to resist and turn our backs, it will be very painful." These words directly touched me; I had not the courage to read any further, so I turned to another place, and found a wonderful passage, which I had never read, and copied it. This concludes the first diary.The second must have been destroyed; for Alyssa's surviving text was written in Fengesmar three years later, in September, shortly before our last meeting.The last diary begins with this. God, you know I need him to love you. Give me him, God, and I will give you my heart. God, let me see him again. God, I promise you my heart, and you will give me what my love asks, and I will give you all the rest of my life. God, forgive me this despicable entreaty.Bah, but I cannot erase his name from my lips, nor forget the pain of my heart. O God, I cry out to you, don't leave me alone in pain. "Everything you will ask of the Father in my name..." Oh God!I dare not in your name... Even if I stop praying, don't you understand my heart's delusion? Since this morning, it has been very calm.Thinking, praying almost all night last night.Suddenly, I felt a bright and clear tranquility surge around me and sneak into my heart, just like the Holy Spirit I imagined when I was a child.I lay down immediately, lest this joy be but a momentary excitement.Soon I fell asleep and carried this pleasure to sleep.Woke up this morning with the same feeling.now i'm sure he's coming Jerome!I still call you brother, my friend, but I love you more than brotherhood... How many times have I called your name in the beech woods! ...Every day at dusk, I go out through the small gate of the vegetable garden and walk onto the darkened tree-lined road... You may answer suddenly and appear behind the stone slope that my eyes can see, or I will go far away. Seeing you from afar, seeing you sitting on the bench waiting for me, my heart won't beat wildly... on the contrary, I'm a little strange not seeing you. Still no sign of anyone.The sun sinks into the sky of incomparable purity.I'm still waiting, and I'm sure it won't be long until I'm sitting next to him on that bench...and I'm already listening to him.I love hearing him call my name...he will come!My hand will be in his, and my forehead will rest on his shoulder.I'm going to sit next to him and breathe.Yesterday, I took a few of his letters with me and planned to read them again, but I was so full of thoughts about him that I didn't read them.I still carried the amethyst cross that he loved, and I remember wearing the little cross every night one summer when I didn't want him to go. I intend to return the cross to him.This dream has been around for a long time: he is married, his first daughter is named little Alyssa, and I am godmother and give her this jewel... Why have I never dared to tell him? Today I am in a light and cheerful mood, like a little bird that has built its nest in the sky.He's coming today, I have the feeling, I know it's bound to happen; I really want to shout it out to everybody, and I need to write it down.I no longer want to hide my joy.Even Robert, who has always been absent-minded and indifferent to me, noticed the change in my mood. His questions made me flustered and I didn't know how to answer.How can I wait tonight? ... Somehow it seemed to me that I wore a lens; it focused all the light of love on the single hot spot of my heart, and everywhere showed me his enlarged image. oh!Waiting like this, how tired I am! Oh God!The door of happiness, please open it for me for a moment. well!The lights are all extinguished!Like a shadow, he fled from my arms.It turned out that he was here!He is here!I can still feel him.I call out to him.My hands, my lips, searched for him in vain in the night... I could neither settle down to pray nor sleep peacefully.I went out again, into the dark garden, and felt afraid no matter whether I stayed in the room or in the small building.In agony, I went up to the little door by which I had parted from him, and opened it again, wishing wildly that he would come back again.I call, groping in the dark.I went back to my room and wrote him a letter.I cannot bear my grief. What the hell happened!What did I say to him?What did my husband do?In front of him, why always exaggerate your own virtue?How valuable is a virtue which my heart utterly denies?I've secretly disobeyed what God taught me to say... I'm full of things on my mind, but I don't say a word.Jerome!Jerome, my miserable friend, I am heartbroken when I am with you, and I am sick when I am without you; hear only what my love tells you of what I have just told you. I tore and wrote the letter... It was daybreak, gray and soaked with tears, as sad as my thoughts... I heard the head of the farmhouse rattling, everything fell asleep and moved again... "Now, wake up , the time has come..." This letter will not be sent. Jealous God, since you have stripped me of everything, take my heart also.From now on, this heart will have no enthusiasm, no interest in anything.Help me to overcome my poor remnant.This house, this garden, excited my love intolerably.I'm going to flee to a place where I can only see you. You will help me to distribute all my wealth to your poor, but let me leave the Fengsmaar estate to Robert, and I will not have the heart to sell it.I did write a will, but most of the necessary formalities are unclear.Yesterday, I couldn't talk to the notary thoroughly, lest he guess my decision, I will inform Juliet or Robert... I will make it up after I arrive in Paris. Arriving here, I was so exhausted that I had to stay in bed for the first two days. Against my objections, they called in a doctor.The doctor thinks that surgery is necessary.What is the use of the hard top?It didn't take much for me to convince him that I was terribly afraid of surgery and hoped to wait until I "recovered a little bit." I withheld my name and address.But I paid the sanitarium office a large sum of money, enough for them to take me in with pleasure, and to live here as long as God saw fit. I quite like this room.The interior is so clean that there is no need to decorate the walls.I was amazed; my mood was almost happy, which indicated that I no longer expected anything from life.It also shows that now I have to think only of God, whose love is only wonderful when it occupies our whole being... I carry only the Bible with me; but today, a voice in my heart that is higher than the words I read, is this unvoiced cry of Pascal: "Whatever isn't from God doesn't meet my expectations." oh!I have a careless heart that desires earthly pleasures... Is this the cry, Lord, that You have placed me in despair? Come and dominate!Come and rule my heart, come and be my only master, rule my whole being.I don't want to bargain with you again with this heart. My mind seems to be very old, but still maintains a special childishness.I am still the little girl back then, the room must be tidy, and the dresses I take off must be folded and placed on the bedside, so that I can fall asleep... When I die, I intend to do the same. Read this diary again, and then destroy it. "Great minds should not spread their bewilderment." These beautiful words, I think, came from Clotilde de Vaux. ① Clotilde (475-545), queen of France, wife of Clovis I, she once persuaded her husband to convert to Catholicism. I was about to throw the diary into the fire, but was stopped by a warning: I felt that the diary was no longer my own, it was written entirely for Jerome, and I had no right to take it from him.All my worries and misgivings seem ridiculous today, and it is impossible to take them seriously, and I will not believe that Jerome will be disturbed after reading them.My God, let him also discover the clumsy tones of a heart that longs to the point of madness, and lifts him to a height of virtue that I myself can hardly attain. "My God, take me to this top of the rock that I can't reach." "Joy, joy, joy, tears of joy①..."① Quoted from Pascal's "Last Words". Yes, above all earthly joys, above all pains, I feel this incomparable joy.The top of the rock I cannot reach, I know has a name: Happiness... And I know that if I do not seek this happiness, my life is wasted... But, Lord!You promised to the pure soul who renounced the world: "Instant happiness," says your holy word, "Instant happiness, who dies in the arms of the Lord." Must I wait until death?It was here that my faith was shaken.Oh God!I cry out to you with all my might.I am in the night; I wait for the dawn.I cry out to you until I die.Come quench the thirst of my heart, pa.This happiness, I long for at once...or should I be sure of it?Perhaps like the impatient little bird that crows before dawn, calling instead of announcing the dawn, don't I wait for the dawn to sing? Jerome, I want to show you what perfect joy is. This morning, I turned my stomach and vomited for a while, and immediately felt extremely weak, and I expected to die soon.But it is not.At first, my whole body was extremely calm; then, a feeling of anxiety and anxiety came to my heart, which made my body and soul tremble, as if suddenly awakened, and suddenly realized my whole life.It seemed to me for the first time that I noticed that the bare walls of my room were horrible.I'm scared.Now I am still writing, just to comfort myself and keep calm.Oh God!I hope I die without uttering a single outrageous word. I can still get out of bed.I got down on my knees like a child... Now I want to die, die fast, before I realize I'm alone again. Last year I saw Juliet again.More than ten years have passed since I received the letter from her telling me about Alyssa's death.Once I was traveling in Provence, I took the opportunity to stop in Nîmes.The Tessier family's house was quite handsome, located on Fisher Street in the central downtown area.Although I had written to inform, I was still quite excited when I stepped through the threshold. A maid took me upstairs into the drawing room, and after a short wait Juliet came out to me.I thought I saw Aunt Plantier: the same gait, the same fullness, the same breathless enthusiasm.She immediately asked me about my situation, one question after another, without waiting for my answer: she asked me about my shameful career, how was my residence in Paris, what did I do, what kind of contacts did I have, and what did I not do in the South?Why not go further, to Egg-Weaver?Edward would be very glad to see me... Then she told me about everyone, her husband, and the children, and her brother, and last year's harvest, and the bad business... so I It was learned that Robert had sold the Fengsmar Grange and moved to Egg-Weaver, and now he became Edward's partner. He stayed in the vineyard, improved the varieties and expanded the planting area, and Edward would be free. Come and go outside, mainly in charge of sales. As I spoke, my eyes searched restlessly for objects of remembrance, and among the new furniture in the living room I recognized several pieces of Fengsmaar's furniture.However, events from the past that still tug at my heartstrings now seem to be on the back of Juliet's mind, or are purposely kept silent. There were two boys playing on the stairs, twelve or thirteen years old, and Juliet called over and introduced me.The eldest daughter, Liz, went to Egg-Weaver with her father.Presently came back a ten-year-old boy, the very one Juliet had said was about to be born when she wrote me the sad news.It was a difficult labor, and Juliet hadn't recovered for a long time. It wasn't until last year that she seemed happy and gave birth to another girl, who she said was her favorite child. "She sleeps in my room next door," she said, "go and see." As she led me there, she added: "Jerome, I dare not write to you... would you Be this little girl's godfather?" "If you like it, of course I will," I said, slightly surprised; and leaning over the cradle, I asked again: "What's the name of my goddaughter?" "Alyssa..." Juliet whispered. "The kid looks a little like her, don't you think?" I shook Juliet's hand without answering.Little Alyssa was picked up by her mother, opened her eyes, and I was in my arms. "What a father you would be if you had a family!" Juliet said with a smile. "What are you waiting for, get married soon?" "Wait until I forget a lot of things." I saw her blushing. "Do you wish to forget soon?" "I hope never to forget." "Follow me," she said suddenly, and, walking ahead, led me into a still smaller room: it was already dark, and one door led to her bedroom, and the other to the drawing-room. "When I have a little free time, I hide here. It's the quietest room in the house, and here I feel a little bit of escaping life." This small living room is different from other houses, the window is not a busy city, but a yard with trees. "Let's sit down," she said, sinking into an arm-chair. "If I understand correctly, you must be loyal to Alyssa and miss her forever." I didn't answer right away, but after a while I said, "Maybe it's better to be true to what she thinks of me... No, don't take that as one of my strengths. I don't think I could have done otherwise. If I married someone else A woman can only pretend to love others." "Oh!" She replied, as if disapproving.Then, she turned her face away and bent down to the ground, as if she was looking for something lost: "So, do you think that a hopeless love can be kept in your heart for a long time?" "Yes, Juliet." "And the wind of life blows over it every day, but it won't blow it out? . . . " The twilight is getting thicker, like a gray tide, rushing up, submerging every item, and all the items seem to be resurrected in the darkness, whispering about their past.I saw Alyssa's room again: my sister's furniture, all gathered here by Juliet.Now, her face turned to me again, I couldn't see her face clearly, whether her eyes were closed or not.I think she is beautiful.Neither of us spoke. "Okay!" she said at last, "it's time to wake up..." I saw her stand up, take a step forward, and fell down on the chair next to her, covering her face with her hands. It seemed that she was crying. At this time, a maid entered the room and brought an oil lamp.
I saw him again.He is in this small building.I see the light from his window onto the lawn.When I wrote these few lines, he hadn't fallen asleep, maybe he was still thinking about me.He hasn't changed; he says it, and it feels the same to me.Can I behave according to my own decision so as to cause him to withdraw his love for me? ... oh!What a cruel conversation, I pretended to be indifferent and cold, while my heart was intoxicated... Before that, I just avoided him.This morning I felt God has given me strength enough to win, and it would be cowardly to avoid the struggle.Am I victorious?Does Jerome love me any less? ……Ugh!It's something I both hope and fear...I love him more than ever. Lord, save him from me, and if I must be destroyed, do it! ... "Come into my heart and soul, so that you may take away my pain and bear in me what remains of your persecution." We talked about Pascal... what can I say to him?What shameful and ridiculous words!I am pained as I speak, and regret this evening as if it were blasphemy.I picked up the heavy "Thoughts" again, and the book opened automatically. It was the part of the letter to Miss de Roanez: "When we voluntarily follow those who drag us down, we don't feel bound. If we start to resist and turn our backs, it will be very painful." These words directly touched me; I had not the courage to read any further, so I turned to another place, and found a wonderful passage, which I had never read, and copied it. This concludes the first diary.The second must have been destroyed; for Alyssa's surviving text was written in Fengesmar three years later, in September, shortly before our last meeting.The last diary begins with this. God, you know I need him to love you. Give me him, God, and I will give you my heart. God, let me see him again. God, I promise you my heart, and you will give me what my love asks, and I will give you all the rest of my life. God, forgive me this despicable entreaty.Bah, but I cannot erase his name from my lips, nor forget the pain of my heart. O God, I cry out to you, don't leave me alone in pain. "Everything you will ask of the Father in my name..." Oh God!I dare not in your name... Even if I stop praying, don't you understand my heart's delusion? Since this morning, it has been very calm.Thinking, praying almost all night last night.Suddenly, I felt a bright and clear tranquility surge around me and sneak into my heart, just like the Holy Spirit I imagined when I was a child.I lay down immediately, lest this joy be but a momentary excitement.Soon I fell asleep and carried this pleasure to sleep.Woke up this morning with the same feeling.now i'm sure he's coming Jerome!I still call you brother, my friend, but I love you more than brotherhood... How many times have I called your name in the beech woods! ...Every day at dusk, I go out through the small gate of the vegetable garden and walk onto the darkened tree-lined road... You may answer suddenly and appear behind the stone slope that my eyes can see, or I will go far away. Seeing you from afar, seeing you sitting on the bench waiting for me, my heart won't beat wildly... on the contrary, I'm a little strange not seeing you. Still no sign of anyone.The sun sinks into the sky of incomparable purity.I'm still waiting, and I'm sure it won't be long until I'm sitting next to him on that bench...and I'm already listening to him.I love hearing him call my name...he will come!My hand will be in his, and my forehead will rest on his shoulder.I'm going to sit next to him and breathe.Yesterday, I took a few of his letters with me and planned to read them again, but I was so full of thoughts about him that I didn't read them.I still carried the amethyst cross that he loved, and I remember wearing the little cross every night one summer when I didn't want him to go. I intend to return the cross to him.This dream has been around for a long time: he is married, his first daughter is named little Alyssa, and I am godmother and give her this jewel... Why have I never dared to tell him? Today I am in a light and cheerful mood, like a little bird that has built its nest in the sky.He's coming today, I have the feeling, I know it's bound to happen; I really want to shout it out to everybody, and I need to write it down.I no longer want to hide my joy.Even Robert, who has always been absent-minded and indifferent to me, noticed the change in my mood. His questions made me flustered and I didn't know how to answer.How can I wait tonight? ... Somehow it seemed to me that I wore a lens; it focused all the light of love on the single hot spot of my heart, and everywhere showed me his enlarged image. oh!Waiting like this, how tired I am! Oh God!The door of happiness, please open it for me for a moment. well!The lights are all extinguished!Like a shadow, he fled from my arms.It turned out that he was here!He is here!I can still feel him.I call out to him.My hands, my lips, searched for him in vain in the night... I could neither settle down to pray nor sleep peacefully.I went out again, into the dark garden, and felt afraid no matter whether I stayed in the room or in the small building.In agony, I went up to the little door by which I had parted from him, and opened it again, wishing wildly that he would come back again.I call, groping in the dark.I went back to my room and wrote him a letter.I cannot bear my grief. What the hell happened!What did I say to him?What did my husband do?In front of him, why always exaggerate your own virtue?How valuable is a virtue which my heart utterly denies?I've secretly disobeyed what God taught me to say... I'm full of things on my mind, but I don't say a word.Jerome!Jerome, my miserable friend, I am heartbroken when I am with you, and I am sick when I am without you; hear only what my love tells you of what I have just told you. I tore and wrote the letter... It was daybreak, gray and soaked with tears, as sad as my thoughts... I heard the head of the farmhouse rattling, everything fell asleep and moved again... "Now, wake up , the time has come..." This letter will not be sent. Jealous God, since you have stripped me of everything, take my heart also.From now on, this heart will have no enthusiasm, no interest in anything.Help me to overcome my poor remnant.This house, this garden, excited my love intolerably.I'm going to flee to a place where I can only see you. You will help me to distribute all my wealth to your poor, but let me leave the Fengsmaar estate to Robert, and I will not have the heart to sell it.I did write a will, but most of the necessary formalities are unclear.Yesterday, I couldn't talk to the notary thoroughly, lest he guess my decision, I will inform Juliet or Robert... I will make it up after I arrive in Paris. Arriving here, I was so exhausted that I had to stay in bed for the first two days. Against my objections, they called in a doctor.The doctor thinks that surgery is necessary.What is the use of the hard top?It didn't take much for me to convince him that I was terribly afraid of surgery and hoped to wait until I "recovered a little bit." I withheld my name and address.But I paid the sanitarium office a large sum of money, enough for them to take me in with pleasure, and to live here as long as God saw fit. I quite like this room.The interior is so clean that there is no need to decorate the walls.I was amazed; my mood was almost happy, which indicated that I no longer expected anything from life.It also shows that now I have to think only of God, whose love is only wonderful when it occupies our whole being... I carry only the Bible with me; but today, a voice in my heart that is higher than the words I read, is this unvoiced cry of Pascal: "Whatever isn't from God doesn't meet my expectations." oh!I have a careless heart that desires earthly pleasures... Is this the cry, Lord, that You have placed me in despair? Come and dominate!Come and rule my heart, come and be my only master, rule my whole being.I don't want to bargain with you again with this heart. My mind seems to be very old, but still maintains a special childishness.I am still the little girl back then, the room must be tidy, and the dresses I take off must be folded and placed on the bedside, so that I can fall asleep... When I die, I intend to do the same. Read this diary again, and then destroy it. "Great minds should not spread their bewilderment." These beautiful words, I think, came from Clotilde de Vaux. ① Clotilde (475-545), queen of France, wife of Clovis I, she once persuaded her husband to convert to Catholicism. I was about to throw the diary into the fire, but was stopped by a warning: I felt that the diary was no longer my own, it was written entirely for Jerome, and I had no right to take it from him.All my worries and misgivings seem ridiculous today, and it is impossible to take them seriously, and I will not believe that Jerome will be disturbed after reading them.My God, let him also discover the clumsy tones of a heart that longs to the point of madness, and lifts him to a height of virtue that I myself can hardly attain. "My God, take me to this top of the rock that I can't reach." "Joy, joy, joy, tears of joy①..."① Quoted from Pascal's "Last Words". Yes, above all earthly joys, above all pains, I feel this incomparable joy.The top of the rock I cannot reach, I know has a name: Happiness... And I know that if I do not seek this happiness, my life is wasted... But, Lord!You promised to the pure soul who renounced the world: "Instant happiness," says your holy word, "Instant happiness, who dies in the arms of the Lord." Must I wait until death?It was here that my faith was shaken.Oh God!I cry out to you with all my might.I am in the night; I wait for the dawn.I cry out to you until I die.Come quench the thirst of my heart, pa.This happiness, I long for at once...or should I be sure of it?Perhaps like the impatient little bird that crows before dawn, calling instead of announcing the dawn, don't I wait for the dawn to sing? Jerome, I want to show you what perfect joy is. This morning, I turned my stomach and vomited for a while, and immediately felt extremely weak, and I expected to die soon.But it is not.At first, my whole body was extremely calm; then, a feeling of anxiety and anxiety came to my heart, which made my body and soul tremble, as if suddenly awakened, and suddenly realized my whole life.It seemed to me for the first time that I noticed that the bare walls of my room were horrible.I'm scared.Now I am still writing, just to comfort myself and keep calm.Oh God!I hope I die without uttering a single outrageous word. I can still get out of bed.I got down on my knees like a child... Now I want to die, die fast, before I realize I'm alone again. Last year I saw Juliet again.More than ten years have passed since I received the letter from her telling me about Alyssa's death.Once I was traveling in Provence, I took the opportunity to stop in Nîmes.The Tessier family's house was quite handsome, located on Fisher Street in the central downtown area.Although I had written to inform, I was still quite excited when I stepped through the threshold. A maid took me upstairs into the drawing room, and after a short wait Juliet came out to me.I thought I saw Aunt Plantier: the same gait, the same fullness, the same breathless enthusiasm.She immediately asked me about my situation, one question after another, without waiting for my answer: she asked me about my shameful career, how was my residence in Paris, what did I do, what kind of contacts did I have, and what did I not do in the South?Why not go further, to Egg-Weaver?Edward would be very glad to see me... Then she told me about everyone, her husband, and the children, and her brother, and last year's harvest, and the bad business... so I It was learned that Robert had sold the Fengsmar Grange and moved to Egg-Weaver, and now he became Edward's partner. He stayed in the vineyard, improved the varieties and expanded the planting area, and Edward would be free. Come and go outside, mainly in charge of sales. As I spoke, my eyes searched restlessly for objects of remembrance, and among the new furniture in the living room I recognized several pieces of Fengsmaar's furniture.However, events from the past that still tug at my heartstrings now seem to be on the back of Juliet's mind, or are purposely kept silent. There were two boys playing on the stairs, twelve or thirteen years old, and Juliet called over and introduced me.The eldest daughter, Liz, went to Egg-Weaver with her father.Presently came back a ten-year-old boy, the very one Juliet had said was about to be born when she wrote me the sad news.It was a difficult labor, and Juliet hadn't recovered for a long time. It wasn't until last year that she seemed happy and gave birth to another girl, who she said was her favorite child. "She sleeps in my room next door," she said, "go and see." As she led me there, she added: "Jerome, I dare not write to you... would you Be this little girl's godfather?" "If you like it, of course I will," I said, slightly surprised; and leaning over the cradle, I asked again: "What's the name of my goddaughter?" "Alyssa..." Juliet whispered. "The kid looks a little like her, don't you think?" I shook Juliet's hand without answering.Little Alyssa was picked up by her mother, opened her eyes, and I was in my arms. "What a father you would be if you had a family!" Juliet said with a smile. "What are you waiting for, get married soon?" "Wait until I forget a lot of things." I saw her blushing. "Do you wish to forget soon?" "I hope never to forget." "Follow me," she said suddenly, and, walking ahead, led me into a still smaller room: it was already dark, and one door led to her bedroom, and the other to the drawing-room. "When I have a little free time, I hide here. It's the quietest room in the house, and here I feel a little bit of escaping life." This small living room is different from other houses, the window is not a busy city, but a yard with trees. "Let's sit down," she said, sinking into an arm-chair. "If I understand correctly, you must be loyal to Alyssa and miss her forever." I didn't answer right away, but after a while I said, "Maybe it's better to be true to what she thinks of me... No, don't take that as one of my strengths. I don't think I could have done otherwise. If I married someone else A woman can only pretend to love others." "Oh!" She replied, as if disapproving.Then, she turned her face away and bent down to the ground, as if she was looking for something lost: "So, do you think that a hopeless love can be kept in your heart for a long time?" "Yes, Juliet." "And the wind of life blows over it every day, but it won't blow it out? . . . " The twilight is getting thicker, like a gray tide, rushing up, submerging every item, and all the items seem to be resurrected in the darkness, whispering about their past.I saw Alyssa's room again: my sister's furniture, all gathered here by Juliet.Now, her face turned to me again, I couldn't see her face clearly, whether her eyes were closed or not.I think she is beautiful.Neither of us spoke. "Okay!" she said at last, "it's time to wake up..." I saw her stand up, take a step forward, and fell down on the chair next to her, covering her face with her hands. It seemed that she was crying. At this time, a maid entered the room and brought an oil lamp.