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I
leant
back
and
looked
at
the
retreating
figure
that
seemed
to
shrink
at
each
step
as
it
passed
away
.
I
do
not
know
from
where
the
impression
came
,
but
it
appeared
to
me
that
I
had
never
in
my
life
seen
a
more
vile
back
than
this
one
,
and
I
did
not
regret
that
I
had
abused
the
creature
before
he
left
me
.
The
day
began
to
decline
,
the
sun
sank
,
it
commenced
to
rustle
lightly
in
the
trees
around
,
and
the
nursemaids
who
sat
in
groups
near
the
parallel
bars
made
ready
to
wheel
their
perambulators
home
.
I
was
calmed
and
in
good
spirit
.
The
excitement
I
had
just
laboured
under
quieted
down
little
by
little
,
and
I
grew
weaker
,
more
languid
,
and
began
to
feel
drowsy
.
Neither
did
the
quantity
of
bread
I
had
eaten
cause
me
any
longer
any
particular
distress
.
I
leant
against
the
back
of
the
seat
in
the
best
of
humours
,
closed
my
eyes
,
and
got
more
and
more
sleepy
.
I
dozed
,
and
was
just
on
the
point
of
falling
asleep
,
when
a
park-keeper
put
his
hand
on
my
shoulder
and
said
:
"
You
must
not
sit
here
and
go
to
sleep
!
"
"
No
?
"
I
said
,
and
sprang
immediately
up
,
my
unfortunate
position
rising
all
at
once
vividly
before
my
eyes
.
I
must
do
something
;
find
some
way
or
another
out
of
it
.
To
look
for
situations
had
been
of
no
avail
to
me
.
Even
the
recommendations
I
showed
had
grown
a
little
old
,
and
were
written
by
people
all
too
little
known
to
be
of
much
use
;
besides
that
,
constant
refusals
all
through
the
summer
had
somewhat
disheartened
me
.
At
all
events
,
my
rent
was
due
,
and
I
must
raise
the
wind
for
that
;
the
rest
would
have
to
wait
a
little
.
Quite
involuntarily
I
had
got
paper
and
pencil
into
my
hand
again
,
and
I
sat
and
wrote
mechanically
the
date
,
1848
,
in
each
corner
.
If
only
now
one
single
effervescing
thought
would
grip
me
powerfully
,
and
put
words
into
my
mouth
.
Why
,
I
had
known
hours
when
I
could
write
a
long
piece
,
without
the
least
exertion
,
and
turn
it
off
capitally
,
too
.
I
am
sitting
on
the
seat
,
and
I
write
,
scores
of
times
,
1848
.
I
write
this
date
criss-cross
,
in
all
possible
fashions
,
and
wait
until
a
workable
idea
shall
occur
to
me
.
A
swarm
of
loose
thoughts
flutter
about
in
my
head
.
The
feeling
of
declining
day
makes
me
downcast
,
sentimental
;
autumn
is
here
,
and
has
already
begun
to
hush
everything
into
sleep
and
torpor
.
The
flies
and
insects
have
received
their
first
warning
.
Up
in
the
trees
and
down
in
the
fields
the
sounds
of
struggling
life
can
be
heard
rustling
,
murmuring
,
restless
;
labouring
not
to
perish
.
The
down-trodden
existence
of
the
whole
insect
world
is
astir
for
yet
a
little
while
.
They
poke
their
yellow
heads
up
from
the
turf
,
lift
their
legs
,
feel
their
way
with
long
feelers
and
then
collapse
suddenly
,
roll
over
,
and
turn
their
bellies
in
the
air
.
Every
growing
thing
has
received
its
peculiar
impress
:
the
delicately
blown
breath
of
the
first
cold
.
The
stubbles
straggle
wanly
sunwards
,
and
the
falling
leaves
rustle
to
the
earth
,
with
a
sound
as
of
errant
silkworms
.
It
is
the
reign
of
Autumn
,
the
height
of
the
Carnival
of
Decay
,
the
roses
have
got
inflammation
in
their
blushes
,
an
uncanny
hectic
tinge
,
through
their
soft
damask
.
I
felt
myself
like
a
creeping
thing
on
the
verge
of
destruction
,
gripped
by
ruin
in
the
midst
of
a
whole
world
ready
for
lethargic
sleep
.
I
rose
,
oppressed
by
weird
terrors
,
and
took
some
furious
strides
down
the
path
.
"
No
!
"
I
cried
out
,
clutching
both
my
hands
;
"
there
must
be
an
end
to
this
,
"
and
I
reseated
myself
,
grasped
the
pencil
,
and
set
seriously
to
work
at
an
article
.
