but you stick in stinking back streets full of rubbish and dirty puddles. So it was with me.
In this scarcely refined way I was destined to become lonely and to put between myself and my childhood a locked door of Eden
over against which stood merciless sentinels on guard in beaming rays of light.
It was a beginning, an awakening of that homesickness, that longing to return to my true self.
I was terribly frightened when my father, alarmed by a letter from my house master,
appeared for the first time in St. —— and faced me unexpectedly.
When he came for the second time, towards the end of that winter, I was hard and indifferent,
I let him heap blame on me, I let him beg me to think of my mother, I was unmoved.
Finally he grew very angry and said that if I did not turn over a new leaf
he would have me disgraced and chased out of the school, and would have me placed in a reformatory.
Little I cared! When he went away I felt sorry for him, but he had accomplished nothing;
he had found no approach to me, and for a few moments I felt that it served him right.
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