The Diaries of Sofia Tolstoy by Cathy Porter Read Free Book Online

though she never loved him? As if I had ever, for one moment, regretted my past, or could dream of not loving him. Does he enjoy seeing me cry when I realize how difficult our relations are, and how we shall gradually drift further apart spiritually? Toys for the cat are tears for the mouse. But this toy is fragile, and if he breaks it, it will be he who cries. I cannot bear the way he is wearing me down. Yet he is a wonderful, good person. He too loathes everything evil, he cannot bear it. I used to love everything beautiful, my soul knew the meaning of ecstasy—now all that has died in me. No sooner am I happy than he crushes me.
    Â 
    9th October . Yesterday we opened our hearts and I feel much better. We went horse riding today, which was splendid, but I feel downcast all the same. I had a depressing dream last night and it is weighing on me, although I don’t remember it in detail. I thought of Maman today and grew dreadfully sad, but I don’t regret my past, I shall always bless it, for I have known great happiness. My husband seems much calmer now and I think he trusts me again, God willing. It’s true, I realize I do not make him very happy. I seem to be asleep all the time and unable to wake up. If I did, I am sure I would be a completely different person, but I don’t know how. Then he would realize how much I love him, for I should be able to tell him of my love. I should be able to see into his soul as I used to, and know how to make him happy again. I must wake up at once, I must. I am frightened of being on my own. He won’t let me into his room, which makes me very sad. All physical things disgust him.
    Â 
    11th October . I am terribly sad, and am withdrawing further and further into myself. My husband is ill and out of sorts and doesn’t love me. I expected this, but never imagined it would be so terrible. He grows colder and colder every day, while I love him more and more. His coldness will soon be unbearable to me. Of course, he is much too honest to deceive me. If he doesn’t love me he would never pretend to do so, but when he does love me I can see it in his every movement. Lyovochka is a wonderful man, and I feel everything is my fault, yet I am afraid to show him how sad I am for I know how bored men are by foolish melancholy. I used to console myself that it would pass and everything would be all right again, but now I feel things will never get better and will become a great deal worse. Papa writesto me: “Your husband loves you passionately.” It’s true, he did love me passionately , but passion passes, and what nobody realized is that he was attracted to me without loving me. Why have I ruined this dear man whom everybody loves so much?
    â€œYou’ll be happy, you’ll see,” people used to tease me. “Don’t worry so much!” Now I have lost everything, all my energy for work, life and household tasks has been wasted, and I want only to sit in silence all day, thinking bitter thoughts. I wanted to do some work, but couldn’t; why should I dress up in that stupid bonnet which makes my head ache? I long to play the piano but it’s so awkward; upstairs you can be heard all over the house and downstairs the piano is too bad to play. I can hear him now playing a piano duet upstairs with Olga. Poor man, he is always looking for something to divert him and take him away from me. What is the point of living?
    Â 
    13th November . An unlucky date. But I have spoken to him, and like a true egoist, I always feel much better after I have had him in my room and set my mind at rest.
    It is true, I cannot find anything to occupy me. He is fortunate because he is talented and clever. I am neither. One cannot live by love alone, but I am too stupid to do anything but sit and think about him. He has only to feel slightly under the weather and I think, “What if he dies?” and these hideous thoughts make me wretched for the next