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Thursday morning

March 25, 1915

YESTERDAY I had your letters at last…. You seem to have done perfect wonders with the rooms.⁴ The carpentering job I saw and heard as plain as if I'd been there, to the very sand-papering. All the things are floating in my brain on a sea of blue Ripolin. I feel those rooms will be lovely.

I had a great day yesterday. The Muses descended in a ring like the angels on the Botticelli Nativity roof, or so it seemed to “humble” little Tig, and I fell into the open arms of my first novel. I have finished a huge chunk, but I shall have to copy it on thin paper for you. I expect you will think I am a dotty when you read it; but, tell me what you think, won't you? It's queer stuff. It's the spring makes me write like this. Yesterday I had a fair wallow in it, and then I shut up shop and went for a long walk along the Quai—very far. It was dusk when I started, but dark when I got home. The lights came out as I walked, and the boats danced by. Leaning over the bridge I suddenly discovered that one of those boats was exactly what I want my novel to be. Not big, almost grotesque in shape—I mean perhaps heavy—with people rather dark and seen strangely as they move in the sharp light and shadow; and I want bright shivering lights in it, and the sound of water. (This, my lad, by way of uplift.)—But I think the novel will be all right. Of course, it's not what you could call serious—but then I can't be, just at this time of year, and I've always felt that a spring novel would be lovely to write.

To-day I went to Cook's with my last golden sovereign in my hand to be changed. I am getting on all right as regards money and being very careful. Cooked vegetables for supper at 20 c. the demi-livre are a great find and I drink trois sous de lait a day. This place is perfect for working.

I read your letter yesterday in the Luxembourg Gardens. An old gentleman, seeing my tender smiles, offered me half his umbrella, and I found that it was raining; but as he had on a pair of tangerine coloured eyeglasses, I declined. I thought he was a Conrad spy.

I have adopted Stendhal. Every night I read him now, and first thing in the morning.

⁴ Two top-rooms in Elgin Crescent which I was preparing.