He told me to go to sleep, so that I knew he did not know the
answer to my question. I lay at ease tranquilly turning the problem
over in my mind. Four weeks, six weeks, eight weeks; why, if I was
lucky, it would carry me through to the holidays! At all events,
school was already very far away, like a nightmare remembered at
noon. I said good-night to my brother, and received an irritated
grunt in reply. I did not mind his surliness; tomorrow when I woke
up, I would begin my dreams.
II
When I found myself in bed in the morning, already sick at heart
because even while I slept I could not forget the long torment of my
life at school, I would lie still for a minute or two and try to
concentrate my shuddering mind on something pleasant, some little
detail of the moment that seemed to justify hope. Perhaps I had some
money to spend or a holiday to look forward to; though often enough I
would find nothing to save me from realising with childish intensity
the greyness of the world in which it was my fate to move. I did not
want to go out into life; it was dull and gruel and greasy with soot.
I only wanted to stop at home in any little quiet corner out of
everybody's way and think my long, heroic thoughts. But even while I
mumbled my hasty breakfast and ran to the station to catch my train
the atmosphere of the school was all about me, and my dreamer's
courage trembled and vanished.
When I woke from sleep the morning after my good fortune, I did not
at first realise the extent of my happiness; I only knew that deep in
my heart I was conscious of some great cause for joy.
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