“I thought ... I wanted to meet you during the hour for the walk. I wanted ... I must talk to you about so many things, so many....”
Poor, dear, O-90. Her rosy mouth was a crescent with its horns downward. But I could not tell her everything, could I, if for no other reason than that it would make her an accomplice of my crimes? I knew that she would not have the courage to report me to the Bureau of Guardians, consequently....
“My dear O-, I am sick, I am exhausted. I went again today to the Medical Bureau; but it is nothing, it will pass. But let us not talk about it;—let us forget it.”
O-90 was lying down. I kissed her gently. I kissed that childish, fluffy fold at her wrist. Her blue eyes were closed. The pink crescent of her lips was slowly blooming, more and more like a flower. I kissed her....
Suddenly I clearly realized how empty I was, how I had given away.... No, I could not—impossible! I knew I must ... but no—impossible! I ought ... but no—impossible! My lips cooled at once. The rosy crescent trembled, darkened, drew together. O-90 covered herself with the bedspread, her face hidden in the pillow.
I was sitting near the bed, on the floor. What a desperately cold floor! I sat there in silence. The terrible cold from the floor rose higher and
higher. There in the blue, silent space among the planets, there probably it is as cold.
“Please understand, dear; I did not mean...” I muttered, “With all my heart, I ...”
It was the truth. I, my real self did not mean.— ... Yet how could I express it in words? How could I explain to her that the piece of iron did not want to.... But that the law is precise, inevitable!
O-90 lifted her face from the pillow and without opening her eyes she said, “Go away.” But because she was crying she pronounced it “Oo aaa-ay.” For some reason this absurd detail will not leave my memory.