MYSTERY IN LOVE

lled her Teresa. She was a tallish, powerfully built brunette with black bushy eyebrows and a large coarse face as if carved out by hatchet. The best gleam of her dark eyes, her thick

ce was confused and supplicatory. It was a very unusual sort of face for her. "Sir, I want to beg a favor of you. Will you grant it me." I layed there silent and thought to myself. "Gracious courage, my boy. I want to send a letter home. That's what it is." She said. Her voice was beseeching, soft and timid. I thought, but up I jumped sat down at my table. Took a sheet of paper and said. "Come here, sit down and dictate." She came sat down very gingerly on a chair and looked at me with a guilty look. " Well, to whom do you want to write to.?" " To my brother." "Well, fire away." I said. " My dear Bowls. My darling, my faithful lover may the mother of God protect yo there. With heart of gold, I write to you even if I have not written for such a long time to you, I have sorrowing little love to you." She started dictating. I narrowly bursted out laughing a sorrowing little dove more than 5 feet high with fists, a stone and more in weight and as black a face as if the little dove had

me another letter." "Very well, the balls are there." I replied. " No, this time it is from him." How stupid that I am."?" I asked. "It is not for me, Mr man. I beg your pardon. It is for a friend of mine that is to say not a friend, but an acquaintance, a man acquaintance. He is a sweetheart just like me here." Teresa, that is you. I will write for you." I said. "Sir write a letter to this to this frieyof mine please." I looked at her her face, was troubled, her fingers were trembling. I was a bit fogged at first and then I guessed how it was. "Look here my lady". I

my story, I always feel horribly awkward and idiotic. Well, well. Listen to me please". I added. She leaped from her seat, came towards me with flashing eyes and laying her hands on my shoulders, began to whisper her rather to hum in her peculiar base voice. " Look, you now it is like this, (using gestures), there is no balls at all and there is no Teresa either, but what is that to you? Is it a hard thing for you to draw your pen over paper? A you not that little fair haired boy? There is nobody at all, neither bowls nor any other. It is only me. I did not understand it at

, of course, yet no harm was done to anyone by my writing to him that I can see." I understood at last. I felt so sick, so miserable, so ashamed somehow alongside of me, not three yards away, lived a human creature who had nobody in the world to treat her kindly, affectionately and this human being had invented a friend for herself. "Look, now you wrote me a letter to balls

s. I had my socks, shirts and other articles of clothing. Subsequently, about three months after this history began, they put her in prison for something or other. No doubt by this time she is dead. My acquaintance shook the ash from his cigarette, looked pensively up at the sky and thus concluded. Well, well, the more a human

d this day after day for ages and we actually listen and the devil only knows how hideous the whole thing it is. Or are we completely depraved by the loud sermonizing of humanism. In reality, we also are fallen folks. And so far as I can