It is done!—
I wrote that at three o'clock this morning, and then I lay back and laughed and sobbed, and in the end I fell asleep in the chair.
I was not ill—my relief was so great. I was only happy. I lay back and closed my eyes. I have born my child.
It is done! It is done! I realize it, and then I am like a crazy person. I do not know what I am doing—I only wander around and sit down in the woods and laugh and talk to myself. O God, I am so happy!
I have only to write the end—the last scene in the dungeon. And that is nothing. “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course!”
July 4th.
I have only to write the echoes that are in my heart, the stammering words of thanksgiving. It is nothing—I have been over them. My whole being is melted with the woe of them—but I can do them anywhere—anyhow.
—And a sudden wild longing has come over me for the city. I must take all the world into my arms—I am so happy—I love it so!
Ah, I have done it! I have done it! I am free! Free! FREE!