Section 7. Corydon, in the meantime, had received a copy of his play; and he was surprised at the effect it had upon her. “It is marvellous,” she wrote; “it is like a blaze of lightning from one end to the other. And yet, much as I rejoice in its power, the main feeling it brought me was of anguish; for it seemed to me as if in this play you had spoken out of your inmost soul. Can it be that you are really chafing against the bond of our love? That you feel that I have hold of you and cling to you; and that you resent it, and shrink from me? Oh Thyrsis, what can I do? Shall I bid you go, and blot the thought of you from my mind? Is that what you truly want? ‘A woman will do anything for a man but renounce him!’ Did you not shudder for me when you wrote those words? “It is two o’clock in the morning, and so far I have not been able to sleep. I have lain awake with torturing thoughts; and then the baby wakened up, and I had to put him to sleep again--any indisposition of mine always affects him. I am sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed, writing with a candle; and hoping to get myself sufficiently exhausted, so that I shall no longer lie awake. “Go and find your vision over my corpse, and may God bless you!... I wrote that hours ago, and I tried to mean it. I try to tell myself that I will take the child and go away, and crush my own hopes and yearnings, and give my life to him. But no--I cannot, I cannot! It is perfectly futile for me to think of that--I crave for life, and I cannot give up. There is that in me that will never yield, that will take no refusal. Sometimes I see myself as a woman of seventy, still seeking my life. Do you not realize that? I feel that I shall never grow old! “How strange a thing it is, Thyrsis, that you and I, who might do so much with so little chance, should have no chance at all. I read of other poets and their wives--at least they managed to have a hut on some hillside, and they did not absolutely starve. “I am tired now; perhaps I can sleep. But I will tell you something, Thyrsis--does it sound so very foolish? Not only will I never grow old, but I will never give up your love! Yes, some day you will find out how to seek your vision in spite of the fact that I am your wife!” Section 8. Another day, there would be moods of peace, and even of merriment; it was always like putting one’s hand into a grab-bag, to open a new letter from Corydon. In after years he would read them, and strange were the memories they brought! “My Thyrsis,” she wrote: “I have been reading a story of Heine in Zangwill’s “Dreamers of the Ghetto”. I did not know about Heine. He loved and married a sweet little woman of the people--Mathilde--who didn’t appreciate his writings. I am not only going to love you, but I am going to appreciate your writings! Some day I am going to be educated--and won’t it be fine when I am educated?