Tomorrow Editions

Katherine Mansfield

13 February 1922 – 19 February 1922

13 February 1922

Felt ill all day. Feeling of violent con- fusion in my body and head. I feel more ill now than ever, so it seems. J. went out and bought a tea-pot and so on; arranged a game of chess and we started playing. But the pains in my back and so on make my prison almost unendurable. I manage to get up, to dress, to make a show of getting to the restaurant and back without being discovered. But that is literally all. The rest is rather like being a beetle shut in a book, so shackled that one can do nothing but lie down. And even to lie down becomes a kind of agony. The worst of it is I have again lost hope. I don't, I can't believe this will change. I have got off the ship again and am swept here and there by the sea.
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14 February 1922

Another hellish day. But J. found some pastilles which help my throat, and it seemed to me they had a calming effect on my heart. I had one of my perfect dreams. I was at sea, sailing with my parasol opened to just a ' freshet ' of wind. Heavenly the sea, the sky, the land — parasol pink — boat pale pink. If I could only get over my discouragement! But who is going to help with that! Now that L.M. is going I have more to do — all my clothes and so on to put away and pull out, as well as a bowl or two to wash. The effort uses what remains of my strength. By 5 o'clock I am finished and must go to bed again. It is a very dull day. The canaries sing. I have been reading Bunin's stories. He is not a sympathetic soul, but it is good to read him ... he carries one away.
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17 February 1922

Went to the clinique. I felt that all was wrong there. M. was distrait and a little angry. D. as usual sailed over everything. But that means noth- ing. It seemed to me there had been some trouble or some trouble was brewing. The servant there is a very beautiful plump woman with a ravishing smile. Her eyes are grey. She curls her hair in a small fringe and she wears a little grey shawl, an apron, and a pair of rather high boots; stepping lightly, with one small plump hand holding the shawl, she opens the door.
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