Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - Part III - XI
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222 THE CONFESSION OF A FOOL
Never !
I succumbed. She surrounded me with kindness
—
abroad, at home she had nothing for me but contempt
and insults.
I was exhausted by overwork and misery ; I suffered
much from headaches, nervous irritabihty, indigestion
. . . the doctor diagnosed catarrh of the stomach.
It was a very unexpected result of mental strain.
It was strange that the illness did not break out until
after I had decided to go abroad, the only means of
escape, so it seemed to me, from the net woven round me
by those countless friends who were everlastingly condol-
ing with my wife. The symptoms of this mysterious
malady first showed themselves on the day succeeding a
visit to the laboratory of an old friend, from where I
had taken a bottle of cyanide ; it was to bring me release,
and I had locked it in a piece of furniture belonging to
my wife.
Paralysed and depressed, I was lying on the sofa, watch-
ing my children at play, thinking of the beautiful days
that lay behind me, preparing myself for death.
I determined to leave nothing in writing which could
throw light on the cause of my death and my sinister
suspicions.
I was ready to make my exit, disappear from ken, killed
by the woman whom I forgave with my last breath.
Marie was watching me out of the corners of her eyes ;
wondering, perhaps, how much longer I should linger
on this earth, before I left her to enjoy in peace the
income which the collected works of the famous writer
would yield her, and the sum which doubtless Government
would grant her towards the education of the children.
She was a success in my play, so big a success that the
critics called her a great tragedienne. She almost burst
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