The night between 19th-20th March.
The last embers died out in the fireplace: I began to shiver, yet I did not move. I sat in my chair in front of my writing-table and felt shudders running down my back.
I ought to have written my last manifesto in the name of the Association. I began it, but at the end of the first sentence the pen stopped in my hand, would not go on, drew aimless lines, and went on scratching when the ink had dried on it. Then it fell from my hand and rolled on the table. I took up a book at random, held it for a long time in my hands, and looked at its lettering. I don’t know what it was. I closed it and shut my eyes. One hears better like that, and I am waiting.
The hours struck one after the other. Twelve, one, half-past one, a quarter to two.... I put out the lamp and opened the window.
I went back to my table. The cold was streaming in through the open window and made me shiver. The silence quivered, and it seemed to me as though a huge artery was throbbing in the air.
The clock struck two.
It is time now.... Every nerve in my body was at high tension, my neck became rigid.
I don’t know how long it lasted. I felt colder and colder. The clock struck again. Perhaps it was fast.... About half an hour may have passed. My stiffness began to relax, as if the very bones of my body had melted; my head drooped.
So they have postponed it again!