★ 73 ★
towards her father. Her confirmation. She once received a whack from Ma chère. Je reviens. Her fear of ghosts. Her thrift. Heynemann. Three horsemen rode around the tower. How she wanted to stop the thief. Her face after a smutty joke. Her talent for mimicry. Her charitableness. Judgements about her. She is modest—charitable. She is irritable—sensible. Her desire to be educated. Her abhorrence of teasing, gossip; her attentiveness to the judgement of strangers. Her power of observation. Love of children. Orderliness. Bossiness. Her care and passion for seemly things.—She wants me to be liked everywhere. She got upset that I went to her parents too soon, and I let them become aware of it too early and too publically. She likes to hear stories. She will not let herself be embarrassed by my love. My love often suffocates her. She is consistently cold.—(Tremendous imagination, gift for concealment that women actually have. Her fine sense of observation. Her very proper tactfulness.)—(All women have this, which Schlegel has disparaged as a beautiful soul.) They are more perfect than us. More free than us. Usually, we are better. They perceive better than us. Their nature appears to be our art—our nature their art. They are born artists. They individualize, we universalize. She does not believe in any future life, but in the transmigration of souls. Schlegel interests her. She cannot suffer too much attention and takes offense at being neglected. She dreads spiders and mice. She always wants to please me. I shall not see her wound. She will not let me address her familiarly. Her H on her cheek. Her favorite dishes—herb soup—beef and beans—eel. She likes to drink wine. She likes to see anything, loves comedy. She thinks more about others than about herself.
