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The house in which I live stands in a sort of park, or forest, or wilderness, whatever one wants to call it, and is very solitary

Its sole inhabitants are , and Madarows older and s that li cat that continually plays with a ball of yarn This ball of yarn, I believe, belongs to the

She is said to be really beautiful, this , still very young, twenty-four at the most, and very rich She dwells in the first story, and I on the ground floor She always keeps the green blinds drawn, and has a balcony entirely overgroith green cli- plants I for my part down below have a comfortable, intimate arbor of honeysuckle, in which I read and write and paint and sing like a bird as I can look up on the balcony Soown gleareen network

Really the beautiful woman up there doesn't interest me very much, for I am in love with someone else, and terribly unhappy at that; faror the Chevalier in Manon l'Escault, because the object of arden, in the tiny wilderness, there is a graceful little raze peacefully On this inal of which, I believe, is in Florence This Venus is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in all nify much, for I have seen few beautiful women, or rather feoot beyond the preparation, the first act

But why talk in superlatives, as if so that is beautiful could be surpassed?

It is sufficient to say that this Venus is beautiful I love her passionately with a morbid intensity; madly as one can only love a wo but an eternally uniform, eternally cal under the leafy covering of a young birch when the sun broods over the forest Often I visit that cold, cruel ht and lie on ainst the cold pedestal on which her feet rest, and o up to her