Confessions of an Author

Chapter Three. FIRST LOVE

One thing remained with me for a long time after this first great adventure: a certain fear for all those well-dressed women belonging to the higher classes. I returned to those secret sins of my youth, alone with my own nudity in the bathroom, and had so many orgasms that I started to suffer from nervous exhaustion.

But then I met a poor little salesgirl and she was the first woman with whom I had relations again. It was only a short interlude of such little duration that I would not have remembered it were it not for the fact that I have it written down in my diary. And while I am writing this the memory of this entire little episode comes back to me.

I can see again the badly undernourished body of the little one, her shrunken breasts. I really do not understand now, especially after having been used to Rita's voluptuous charms, how I could possibly have become excited at the sight of this poor miserable creature. And yet, it happened! I was aimlessly wandering through the city and I saw the girl go into the cathedral. She moved like a shadow up the steps and disappeared through the half-opened door into the church. It is probably that, at that moment, desire for female company had awakened in me again, and the half-child with its poverty-stricken look excited me. I don't know, but I went after her.

She had knelt in front of a saint's statue whose name I was unable to find out. He stood on his pedestal wearing only a loincloth and at his feet stood a raven or a crow or something. A small lamp lit her face with a reddish glow and to me she appeared at that moment remarkably beautiful. She looked up at the almost-nude saint, her hands folded in prayer and her breathing was rapid and very audible. I kneeled next to her, brushing against her as if by accident.

“What's the name of that saint?” I whispered softly.

“I don't know,” she answered.

She glanced in my direction when she said that and smiled at me. I moved a little bit closer arid my hand pressed against her thigh. No response. I moved closer again. And then she whispered at me, “Why don't we sit down on a bench?”

She got up and went to one of those low benches that are completely hidden in the darkness. I went after her. For a while we sat there, quietly and without moving, then my hand went out to her, searching, feeling and caressing. She raised herself a little bit, lifted her skirt and sat down again. When I went with my hand under her skirt, I felt naked flesh. It upset me, but quietly, as if walking a forbidden path, my hand moved on. I touched her belly. I went lower. The girl opened up her thighs, she grabbed my finger and helped it penetrate her. After a while her head lolled and her body started to spasm. Then she pulled my hand away from under her skirt and brought it to her lips, kissing it. She started to nibble on my fingers, groaning, and at the same time I felt her hand groping for the bulge that had formed in my trousers.

I just sat there without moving and I knew that even with Rita I had never known such delight. She tried to unbutton my trousers, but suddenly she said, “Let's go.” It sounded so softly, yet so passionately, longing. At the door she dipped her fingers in the holy water and crossed herself. We walked up and down the quiet side street next to the cathedral. There were no people in sight We were both incapable of bringing out a word; the excitement had made our throats dry. Finally the girl pushed me into a hallway and there she embraced me, kissing me sweetly and reverently … Rita had never kissed me like that!

“Do you want me?” she asked shyly. I held her tightly. And then she told me that she knew about a little inn near the railroad station where we could be together without being disturbed. After we had walked along for about ten minutes, she suddenly stopped.

“Oh, wait a moment,” she said, “I first have to see if I have enough money with me.” She pulled out a small purse.

I laughed. “Don't be silly, I have enough money with me.”

But she did not want to hear about that. She did not want me to pay. “If I want you with me, then it shouldn't cost you anything.”

At first I revolted. Wasn't that exactly like Rita? If I want you with me! Do I only exist to be wanted by rutting females? But my desire for this girl was stronger than my objections to being used again and I said only, “But I walked after you into the cathedral; I was the one who talked to you first; I wanted to have you!”

But she hooked her arm into mine and nuzzled up to me.

Later, when we were together in bed in the simple hotel room, and after she had kissed my whole body during a scene of fervent passion, she looked up at me, putting her hand under her chin, and said sadly, “You know that you are the first one who wanted to have me. Oh, every time when I cannot stand it any longer I have taken a boy to this place. It is not difficult with all those poor students who don't have money enough to get themselves a girl. They are always grateful. And I only like the very young ones; the older ones make me sick.”

I bragged to her about my previous affair, of course, without mentioning Rita's name. But the little one laughed and told me the name. She said that she had heard it from a couple of high school boys with whom she had been to this little inn. They had told her about this incredibly beautiful woman who was absolutely insatiable and who sometimes took on two boys at the same time, either in bed or in her bathtub. And the little girl freely admitted that she would do exactly the same if she had the money, even two at the same time … no, that … never! You really couldn't love two at the same time, and to do it without love wasn't worth doing it. She started to kiss me all over again and exclaimed, “I want you! Please, love me! Please, feel me …” And, after we had reached our full satisfaction, she took my hands and kissed them, assuring me that she could not think of anything more beautiful. “I would rather have even less money but more often a good-looking boy like you.”

Before we parted, she said, “I will go back to the cathedral for sure tomorrow; I have to thank that darling little nude saint who has helped me in getting you.” And then she confessed to me that she always went there and that she, if nobody would talk to her and go with her, at least could look at the saint's nakedness. She would rub her thighs together and get at least some satisfaction. We made a date to see each other again in the little hotel.

“If you really show up, then I will promise to remain faithful to you,” she said, looking at me with a very honest expression on her face. I think what attracted me most to her was her honesty and her gratitude for being with me.

We met a few dozen more times in the little hotel where I had become an honored guest.

But finally it turned into a mere habit and the desire for someone more beautiful had overcome me. I was no longer passionate with her. Sometimes I did not stay longer than a half-hour with the girl in that hotel and I often caught myself trying to remember Rita's voluptuous body while I was on top of the girl, because I needed something to get me excited.

After all, the girl only wanted me for her own pleasure and she was grateful for the release I gave her. However, she did nothing to me any longer which evoked any release from my emotional tensions. And it frequently became too much for me when I happened to see a well-built girl walk past me in the street with a pretty face and a happy smile. And one day my little girl said to me, “You are not any longer like you used to be.” Her face was a little sad and she gave me her hand, “But it was beautiful while it lasted.” She left without making an agreement to see me and we never met again. I don't know what has become of her. The poor thing, with her unquenchable desire for happiness which seemed to elude her always.

It was around the same time that my mother finally got the impression that I had grown into manhood and that I had become fully initiated. I mean, fully knowledgeable about the facts of life, especially hers. I can now fully realize the difficult internal struggle she must have suffered between the desire to live her own life and her sense of duty. Oh, how I hate that word “duty,” which prevents us from realizing our hottest passions and which ties and strangles us and forces us to deaden our truest feelings. Thank the Lord that my Mother had a strong will and that she refused to sacrifice herself at her young age.

I must admit that her material situation allowed her to give a better upbringing and education to her children than she could possibly do herself. She was only excellent for the most noble lust for life, she was only good as a giver of joy because I know that giving and taking were mixed with equal proportions in her personality. Wherever she enjoyed living, she loved with body and soul. To look at her was sheer delight and to hear her deep, soft voice was utter ecstasy. To have scaled with her the heights of passion must have been pure joy of paradise.

And especially during that time which I spent, finally unwillingly, in the embraces of the poor girl, my gazes lingered more frequently than usual, full of admiration, upon the beautiful form of Mama. Without any particular reason I would hold her hand and press a passionate kiss upon it, I would take her in my arms and hold her tightly. It really came as a shock to me when she told me she was going on a long voyage around the world. She ruffled my hair with her adorable hand and said, “It has to be that way!” She pulled me close to her and kissed me upon the mouth. The delightful shiver running through my body impressed me so greatly that it made me write one of the few poems I ever composed in my life. I wrote it for myself, and for myself only, and I have taken great pains to see to it that it will be buried with me.

For the duration of Mama's voyage, my little brother was to live with our grandmother whose lands were near the western border. I remained as Lord of the Manor in our own house, occasionally visited by my dear departed father's only brother, with whom I had absolutely nothing in common.

In the beginning I suffered from loneliness and the wild desire to see Mama again. I hardly noticed the people around me. Our housekeeper looked after the house, and Old Joseph, our gardener and manservant, stayed on to look after me. But dinner was served by a young, almost seventeen-year-old girl with beautiful red cheeks and a well-formed body which seemed untouched. The old housekeeper, who had been with us since Papa's death, had hired the girl to help her with the household chores a few days after Mama's departure. But as soon as darkness set in, and my tutor had left for the day, the old woman would retire to her room and Joseph left for the coach house. The young girl was left alone to take care of me. She did this shyly and without making much sound so that I hardly ever noticed her at all. But one night, after I returned from the theater, I could not help but take a good look at her.

It must have been around ten o'clock and she was sitting in the well-lit living room. She asked me if I still wanted her to serve my dinner. My God, she was beautiful! Deep black shining hair, a soft snow-white skin, flushing red cheeks, a veritable picture of beautiful health. I must have stared at her a mite too long and longingly because she blushed deep red.

She served supper and left the room quietly.

I hastily drank a glass of wine or two, maybe three. After I had finished eating, I leaned back in my chair and felt terribly lonely in that dining room with only one light burning on the table. Suddenly I imagined that I was suffering from incredible thirst which could only be slaked by a tall glass of ice cold water. I did not want to drink that wine. My hand automatically reached for the bell, and equally as automatically, did not ring it. Instead I got up and walked slowly toward the door. I opened it, called out softly, “Marie!” Then I went back into the room and closed the door. A few moments later she entered.

“Did you call, Sir?”

“Yes, Marie.”

“I am sorry I didn't hear you ring.”

“No, Marie, I did not ring … I did not want to wake up the old woman.”

I had walked up to her as closely as I dared but I could not bring myself to touch her, even with one finger. We just stood there, standing close together, without uttering a sound. Finally she started to move one foot.

“I would — love to have a glass of water, Marie.”

“Very well, Sir.”

She left, returned right away and poured me a glass of water. Then she started to take away the dishes.

“I just cannot stand it any longer to just sit here all by myself, Marie. Please stay with me for a while. Please, sit down, Marie.”

I suddenly took her hand in mine. She did not pull back, but she did turn away her head. I began to get warm. “Why don't you sit down, Marie? Are you afraid of me?” She shook her head and allowed me to pull her toward me on my chair. I stroked her beautiful black hair, caressed her lovely cheeks. I suddenly had to take off my tie and loosen my collar. Then I unbuttoned my shirt, because I thought I was going to choke. I put the girl's hand under my shirt upon my naked chest and I could feel how she shuddered.

She said softly, “Please, no, dear Sir.” She tried to take her hand out of mine but I did not let go of her. But, during this slight struggle I happened to touch her full and firm breasts. That was enough to drive me out of my mind. I embraced the girl wildly and kissed her passionately on the mouth. Her arms relaxed and fell slack to her side. I held her that way for a long time, whispering, “I won't let you go!” I kissed her again and again.

But suddenly she seemed to regain her senses and pulled herself away from me rather roughly. I went after her. She had almost left the room, but I went down upon my knees before her and embraced her thighs, pressing my face against her. She bent over me, took my head in her hands and put her feverishly glowing cheeks against mine. I reached for her breasts and in doing so I tore the blouse she was wearing, exposing two full and firm globes with rapidly hardening nipples. I stared avidly at them while she stood up and stretched herself voluptuously.

“Take off your clothes, oh sweetheart,” I panted.

Suddenly she embraced me tightly. I pulled her down upon the sofa, took one of her breasts in both hands, kissed it, licked it and sucked the little nipple. Then I took the other breast. The girl squirmed and groaned. I pulled out my member and let her touch it. She grasped it and squeezed so firmly that tears came to my eyes. Suddenly she buried her face in her hands and called out, “But I couldn't, Sir!”

I was unable to contain myself. I kneeled over her and tried to take off her skirt, but she resisted with all her power. I held her firmly and tried to lay down on top of her but she pressed both hands against the seat of her shame. Then I tore her blouse completely and uncovered her bosom fully. It was there … right in front of me, in all its unspoiled splendor. I laid my swollen member in between those youthful breasts, pushing them together with both hands. I groaned and panted and finally achieved some relief. But right away I became terribly ashamed of myself. I got up, put my member back in my trousers, turned around and went wordlessly into my darkened bedroom which was next to the dining room. Suddenly I felt myself embraced from behind, a cheek brushed past mine and warm and willing lips pressed upon my mouth.

“You poor, dear boy.”

Mechanically, I pulled her closer to me and rested my head against her shoulder. We just stood there and did not move. A few times she murmured, pity in her voice, “Poor boy.”

Then she rushed out, cleared the table and when she had finished she stuck her head around the bedroom door, whispering, “I'll bring you some fresh water in a minute.”

I switched on the light on my nightstand and waited. For what? I could not keep my thoughts straight. When I had waited too long, I started to undress and lay down upon the bed, smoking a cigarette, taking long, deep drags. A soft noise near the door jarred me out of my thoughts. I looked up. The girl tiptoed into the room holding a carafe with fresh water. She put it down on the table and looked in my direction. I noticed that she had made herself comfortable. She was without shoes and wore only a light dress.

“Make it dark,” she whispered.

When I did not move, because only looking at her would stir new passions, she walked over to the nightstand and turned the light off herself. My hand groped for the beauties of this young body. But I, wanted to look and see. I sat up and turned the light on again. She pushed her face into the pillow, turning onto her belly. I loosened her skirt bands and unbuttoned her top. Now she lay there next to me in all her naked glory. The freshness of her body made my head spin. She did not look like any of the girls I had ever seen.

I moved my face across those beautifully rounded and firm twin pillows. I kissed them. She whimpered, “I am so ashamed.” Her body was aglow. I tried to turn her around, but she absolutely refused. I tore the long nightgown off my body and moved and squirmed my nakedness all over her. The girl shuddered and whimpered with excitement but she kept her thighs tightly closed with all the force that was in her and I did not succeed in prying them apart. I became angry and asked her why on earth she had come to me in the first place, if all she wanted to do was to tantalize and tease me. She started to cry. I begged her to at least turn her beautiful breasts toward me. She turned her upper body just a little bit, but I grabbed her roughly and threw her on her back. I lunged upon her breasts, avidly kissing them, licking them. I licked her lips, licked her clenched teeth and sank down, completely exhausted.

Now she became nice and tender: she kissed me, took my greatly swollen, over-excited member in her hand, squeezed it gently, then she lay down on top of me and held her breasts against my lips. Now that I was exhausted, she was no longer afraid. And then she opened up her thighs. When she noticed that I did not even pay attention to it, she became more bold and guided my hand to her inner thighs. When she noticed that I had become moody, she grabbed for her blouse, put it on and then stepped into her skirt. Before she left, she kissed me and said, “Don't be mad at me, kind Sir, I cannot do anymore. If I were to get with child …”

I perked my ears. A child? It had never occurred to me that anybody with whom I had anything to do could ever get a child. And obviously, the females with whom I had consorted had never had that thought, either. It is possible that these women had nothing to be afraid of, and that the one who now was bending over me was an entirely different type, one who had to give and receive in an entirely different way. This thought made me very sentimental. I caressed her cheeks softly and kissed her almost reverently. And it seemed to make a greater impression upon her than my former abandon.

After a particularly long and passionate kiss, she stood up and stretched herself. She glanced down upon my nude body. She held her bosom and exclaimed, “God, how beautiful!” Hesitantly she sank down and brushed her lips across my chest, then planted a kiss between my thighs. Hastily she left the room.

I stayed awake for a long time. Being together with this girl, without having experienced any physical satisfaction excited me tremendously. I was contemplating whether I should sneak up to her room. No, her exclamation at the sight of my nude body was more than enough to indicate that she had seen such a thing for the first time, and her fear of getting pregnant was a sure sign that she had not yet surrendered to any man. I was slowly getting mad at myself. I had terribly insulted this innocent virgin! All the tenderness that was within me welled up and I wanted to caress her and beg her forgiveness. I even believe that my eyes got moist.

I finally fell asleep, of course, without turning off the electric light. I fortunately woke up in the morning before Old Joseph had come in to bring me my clothes and shoes, because otherwise he would have seen me stark naked lying on top of my blanket.

At first I thought I had dreamed, but slowly everything that had gone on the previous night became clear to me. And when I had realized fully that it was not a dream, a tender feeling came over me which I had never known before. If the girl had walked in at that moment, I would have embraced her and kissed her like one makes love only to his beloved. But she did not walk in, and even during the time that I was in the house, I could not as much as catch a glimpse of her.

To have a reason to be late for supper, I made an absolutely unnecessary visit to my uncle and I phoned the old housekeeper that I would not be home till around nine o'clock. I was hoping, of course, that she would go to bed without waiting for me to come home. I did not have the slightest intention of taking advantage of the girl. All I wanted to do was just sit there with the girl, talk to her and tell her that I loved her and that she should love me, and also, I wanted to kiss her. I wanted that most of all.

I have never, before or since, experienced a night like that. But I have often longed for one. I still have that longing.

When I walked into the room, Old Joseph was just about to leave. My eyes darted around … the girl was not there! I quickly said goodnight to the old man.

She was in the dining room, setting the table. Without looking around at me she greeted me. I walked over to her, grabbed her hand and pulled her toward me. I kissed her. She blushed deep red, pulled away and left for the kitchen to get my dinner. After serving me, she wanted to leave again without having said a word to me. I held her back. I pleaded with her not to be angry with me and I promised her that I would never again be as brutal to her as I had been … never, never, never. And please, now, sit down and talk to me. But she said, “You are absolutely right. A person who has behaved herself the way I behaved myself toward you, does not even deserve to be looked at.” And she tenderly took my head in her hands, kissed me quickly and walked out of the room.

I felt very sad, my meal did not taste good at all, I shoved my plate away and started to smoke. I picked up a book and began to read. But it did not work. I could not take my mind off this girl. And I kept repeating over and over as if to console myself, “She has kissed me.”

I must have sat there for over an hour and when Marie returned to clear the table, I took her hand and said, “Please, forgive me, Marie.”

“I do not want you to be sad, young Sir, and please, do not make yourself feel guilty.”

And suddenly she embraced me, held my head firmly against her bosom and she kissed me tenderly. “Please, don't be sad,” she said several times over. With a deep sigh she stroked my hair, picked up the dishes and went. I had the feeling that the most beautiful thing had just happened to me. I was happy and I smiled like one who is at peace with himself and the world. That was the mood I was in when I went to bed, turned out the light and really, I pressed my lips against my pillow, kissed it passionately and said, “Good night, Marie!”

Wait a minute! Didn't somebody slip through the half-opened bedroom door? No, nothing! But suddenly I felt a hand on my face, a nude body in my bed! Marie!!

She snuggled up to me closely and whispered, “I could not take it any longer. I don't want to be alone!”

She felt around, caught my head and kissed, kissed and kissed.

“I promise not to do anything, Marie. I promise. Oh, you sweetheart. Oh, my angel!”

It felt as if her whole body dissolved, she rested peacefully on her back, all her muscles relaxed and then … she opened her thighs! I threw my arms around her, kissed her lovely face, her neck, her breasts, her entire body. She threw her legs apart, I felt her hands under my armpits, she tugged at me and drew me across her body. What happened then? I heard small outcries of pain and got terribly scared.

“Do you want me to go away?” I stammered. “I am a terrible brute, Marie!”

She held-on to me tightly, her panting breath came haltingly, she stretched her thighs even wider than before and I felt both her hands search for my member, grab it and pull as if she wanted to pull my entire body inside her. No longer in control of myself, I pushed forcefully — a suppressed scream — I put my mouth upon hers. My head sank next to hers on the pillow, but I did not let go of her. A wild feeling surged over me, but also over her. It was a sort of terrible hunger. She clamped her legs around me as if she had to keep me tight and tighter and her lips locked onto mine. It seemed as if we never could be separated again, we held on tightly to each other and stayed that way for quite a long time.

Finally I slid exhausted off her hot body, burying my face between her breasts. I heard her soft breathing and could feel the passion ebbing away. We lay there for some time and then I asked, “Can I switch on the light?”

She did not answer, but her hands caressed my body softly. I switched on the light. There she was, her eyes closed, but with an expression of intense happiness. Then we looked at each other, laughing like happy children. She lifted her arms and stretched them toward me. I let myself be embraced by her.

“Oh, what else can I give you, my darling,” she sighed.

No, the happiness of that night, the delight of those weeks … I'll never find them again. Even the life of the most blessed person is sadly lacking bliss like that.

I do believe that Marie is the only girl, with the exception of my beautiful mother, that I have ever deeply and truly loved. Our togetherness was tender and timidly intimate and even the storms of passion that raged between us were very sacred. There was nothing in our words and deeds that was unclean, and there was not a hint of the lasciviousness which used to whip me into a frenzy whenever I was with Rita.

And the day on which Marie admitted to me that she was to become a mother, belongs to the very few real sacred ones in my entire life. We were absolutely not worried. I remember that she lifted her beautiful face up to me, and smiled with shining eyes. I looked deep into her eyes and said, “My girl.”

She anticipated our child with joy. She only did not want her parents to know about it. After it had arrived she would show it to her mother and then I had to be there too. Oh, it was all arranged and so beautiful. Throughout that whole period I did not dare to embrace her firmly because I was afraid she would break. But she just laughed at me and came to me night after night.

One day she said to me that she had to leave the house because it had become increasingly difficult to hide her situation. She wanted to rent a room in one of the suburbs and there she would deliver our child. “And after that you can be with me forever,” she said. That was our tragedy. It could not be. I started to think. It was impossible for me to imagine the days and nights that I could not be with her. With a thousand kisses I talked her into staying. She finally gave in.

This was where Mama had to help us.

I had long since decided to tell her everything. Fortunately for us, her trip around the world proceeded very slowly, and at that particular time she was still on the Continent. Surely, she must have had ecstatic times now and then and could understand the trembling with which her son now asked for her assistance. I wrote her everything. That, at first, I had had the bad luck to fall into the hands of a female to whom I was nothing more than an instrument to satisfy her insatiable demands, and that finally, after a few other trials and efforts, the desire which brings man and woman together had overcome me. I can still remember word for word the letter I wrote to Mama. And, even though some of the things I said now seem to be rather childish, one thing was for sure: I had painted a very accurate picture of my relations with Marie.

What I have written down on the previous pages is nothing but a faint copy of what I have written to Mama. And what still amazes me to this day is that I could write all this to that marvelous woman. I did not have to wait long for an answer. The next day I had a telegram from Mama: “Dear Boy, Your Confidence Made Me Happy, Letter With My Proposed Arrangements On Its Way, Greet Marie, Kisses From, Mama.”

Marie had some trouble regaining her self-control after she had read Mama's telegram. She kissed it, she kissed my hands and she implored me to tell her what she could also do to make me happy. My God, she was so sweet when she offered me her body. I did not notice any changes, and I put my ear to her belly, listening for any possible sounds that might come from the movements of our baby. We smiled happily at each other.

According to Mama's preparations, Marie moved in with an old woman who had been Mama's wet nurse and who had lived for years on a small farm outside the city. When we went to see her, the old lady knew about everything from Mama and she was very nice to Marie and me. She talked about Mama as if it were her own daughter.

“You can stay here for the night, you bad boy! The two of you have gone — well — as far as you have gone, and I don't think that you both will say the rosary when you sleep here tonight,” and saying this she patted me shamelessly on the crotch, adding, “Such a knave. But it felt good, didn't it?” She squeezed Marie's blushing cheeks and left the two of us together. But I no longer dared to touch Marie. It seemed to me as if she had become a higher being.

Week after week passed. I often kneeled in front of her and kissed her hands and then I left her with a feeling of sacred elation and shyness.

And then a day arrived … it would be sacrilege to attempt to describe it.

As usual, after school hours, I walked out to the little dwelling of the old woman. She opened the door with a very worried look on her face and did not want to let me in to see Marie. At that moment I heard her cry out for me. Marie had had an accident and the six-month-old fruit of her womb had been destroyed. A few days later she died in agony after she had touchingly said her farewell to me.

I was destroyed. I did not know how to hide my feelings and often paraded them for everyone to see. They could not prevent me from walking behind the coffin with Marie's parents. And obviously, my fellow burghers knew soon what had transpired. The most venomous gossip went from one to the other. The little provincial town had its sensation of the year. Without any shame these people said, “It's obvious! The mother is doing exactly the same!”

How I hated those dogs. They have as little respect for love as they have for suffering. They drool and slaver the very moment a human emotion shows itself unveiled. Their morals are like a changeling conceived by jealousy and irritation over the fact that their own dulled senses can only be stirred by vile and disgusting fantasies.

Fortunately for them, I was so immersed in my own grief that I did not pay any attention whatsoever to their vile whispering, or else I might have knocked several people's teeth out. It did not even make any impression upon me when my tutor, who was also one of my school teachers, told me that he had taken the liberty of announcing my withdrawal from that institution to save me the embarrassment of being expelled. It's obvious that one should expel a derelict like me. May the devil get them all.

Mama was in Japan at that time. How could she have come to my aid quickly? My uncle, my father's brother, took me under his wings. He did not ask any questions, the “facts” were enough for this little Philistine. Oddly enough, today I am very grateful to him. He bought me everything he could think of and then he dropped me off at the railway station. “Travel! It makes no difference where,” was his opinion. Nice Philistines like him are always of the opinion that a young man who has been in trouble should travel. He did not know any better.

First I went to my grandmother to see my little brother again. I really longed to see him. After all, he was part of my Mama. Then I went on to France, to Spain, with the boat to Sardinia, Italy, and finally to Switzerland. That's where I stayed because I was tired of running. I took up residence in one of the respectable and expensive hotels.