LDV100

BEATRICE BERRUT 23 This sky reminds him a little of her, fiery, telluric, yet distant. It is true that he never allows himself to be distracted from his work by what he considers to be superficial occupations, because the time he can devote to composing is too limited; he neglects Alma a great deal, and she makes sure he is aware of the fact. Yet his feelings for her were ardent. He asked her to marry him the day after they met! She will be happy to know that I am happy, he thinks to reassure his conscience, and the Adagietto I sketched earlier is a hymn to our love and her self-sacrifice. Relieved by this thought, he feels the tension ebb from his body. He shakes himself and rubs his hands against his frayed shirt-tails. This ink is hard to get rid of, he thinks. He kicks aside twigs that have fallen from the trees and observes for a moment this world vibrant with life. Birds fly off a branch above him, knocking a few icy drops onto his head. Surprised, he wipes his brow with the back of his sleeve and decides to turn back. When the day disappears, his door is closed and he is once again bent over his work, his forehead tense and his body filled with anxiety.