I have spent it chiefly in trying to win her love.
Is she, after all, only a child, and is this love of mine but a monstrous passion?
What is to be done?
Life is beginning to be a torture.

If I send her away, I shall eat my heart out.

If she stays, fuel is but added to the fire.

Her caressing ways will drive me mad.

To repulse her were brutal--she loves to be fondled; she can scarcely speak to me without touching me, leaning over me, thus filling me with the sense of her.