Part 23 (2/2)

The climax of the scene in the garden of Gethsemane will be a vision in which looms up before him the whole history of Christianity; and that will be the last agony. It will be then that he sweats blood.

That will be something, I think.

September 13th.

To-morrow is the last time I shall ever go into that h.e.l.lish place!

To-morrow is the last time in all my life that I shall ever have to say, ”We have this same quality in ninety-pound paper at four sixty-nine!”

Throughout all this thing it seemed to me that when I came out I should no longer have a soul. But it is not so; I shall still keep at it grimly.

September 14th.

And now to-day I make my plans. I must keep near a library; but I shall hunt out a room uptown. There I can be near the Park, and I shall suffer a little less from these hideous noises. I shall go over there and spend every day--find out some place where there are not too many nurse-girls!

I can not begin any other book; I must stand or fall by The Captive. I shall be a ”h.o.m.o unius libri”!

But I can not attempt to write again--ever--in these circ.u.mstances. It is not that my force is spent--I am only at the beginning of my life, I see everything in the future. But I could not wrestle with these outside things again--it took all my courage and all my strength to do it once.

There is no reason why I should worry about that. I have fifty-six dollars, and I am free for four months, barring accidents. And surely I shall have found some one to love my book by that time!

And so I set to work reading.

September 15th.

A slight preliminary, of course. I spent a ghastly day hunting for a room.

I found one in a sufficiently dirty and cheap place, and then I spent another hour finding a man who would take my trunk for a quarter. Having succeeded in that, I walked up there to save five cents; and when the trunk came the driver tried to charge me fifty cents!

Picture me haggling and arguing on the steps--”Didn't know it was so far--Man didn't understand”--G.o.d knows what else! And then he tries to carry off the trunk--and I rus.h.i.+ng behind, looking for a policeman! Again more arguing, and a crowd, of course. At last it appears that I have to pay him what he asks and go down to the City Hall and make my complaint--hadn't told him how many steps there were, etc. So finally I agree to carry it up the steps myself, if he'll only leave it for a quarter!

Next you must picture me breaking my back and tearing my fingers and the d.a.m.ned wall paper--while the d.a.m.ned frowsy-headed landlady yells and the d.a.m.ned frowsy-headed boarders stick out their heads! And so in the end I get into my steaming hot room and shut the door and fall down on the bed and burst into tears.

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