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SPRING FLOODS
SPRING FLOODS
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Scanned, proofed and corrected from the original hardcover edition for enjoyable reading.
***
An excerpt from the beginning of the first chapter:
"Merry years, Happy days --
As spring floods. They passed away."
—From An Old Romance.
BETWEEN one and two o'clock at night he returned to his rooms. He dismissed the servant, who had lighted the candles, and, throwing himself into an armchair near the fire, hid his face in his hands.
Never had he felt such bodily and mental fatigue. He had been the whole evening in the company of charming women and educated men; some of the women were pretty, nearly all the men excelled in intellect and talents—he himself had conversed successfully, and even brilliantly, . . but, in spite of all this, never had the tœdium vitæ, spoken of by the Romans, that "aversion to life," possessed him with such an overwhelming force, and suffocated him. Had he been some years younger he would have burst out crying from grief, weariness, and excitement; a sharp and burning bitterness, as the bitterness of wormwood, filled his whole soul. A disagreeable sensation, which he could not repress, something grievously repulsive, beset him on all sides, like the darkness of an autumn night; and he did not know how to shake off this gloom, this bitterness. It was useless to rely on sleep; he knew he would not sleep.
He began to meditate... slowly, undecidedly, and resentfully.
***
An excerpt from the beginning of the first chapter:
"Merry years, Happy days --
As spring floods. They passed away."
—From An Old Romance.
BETWEEN one and two o'clock at night he returned to his rooms. He dismissed the servant, who had lighted the candles, and, throwing himself into an armchair near the fire, hid his face in his hands.
Never had he felt such bodily and mental fatigue. He had been the whole evening in the company of charming women and educated men; some of the women were pretty, nearly all the men excelled in intellect and talents—he himself had conversed successfully, and even brilliantly, . . but, in spite of all this, never had the tœdium vitæ, spoken of by the Romans, that "aversion to life," possessed him with such an overwhelming force, and suffocated him. Had he been some years younger he would have burst out crying from grief, weariness, and excitement; a sharp and burning bitterness, as the bitterness of wormwood, filled his whole soul. A disagreeable sensation, which he could not repress, something grievously repulsive, beset him on all sides, like the darkness of an autumn night; and he did not know how to shake off this gloom, this bitterness. It was useless to rely on sleep; he knew he would not sleep.
He began to meditate... slowly, undecidedly, and resentfully.
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