12.15
י12.35
1.15.
215
3. 30.
340.
JOHN ST. JOHN
John St. John is aching all over, cannot get comfort—
able anyhow; is hungry, and has no appetite; thirsty,
and loathes the thought of drinking!
He must do something—something pretty drastic, or
he will find himself in serious trouble of body and mind,
the shadows of his soul, that is sick unto death.
For
“ where are now their gods?”
Where is the Lord, the
Lord Adonai?
The beast feels decidedly better; but whether he is
more concentrated one may doubt.
Honestly, he is
now so blind that he cannot tell!
Perhaps a “cafe, cognac, et Cigare” may tune him up
to the point of either going back to work, or across
Paris to the Hammam.
He will make the experiment, reading through his
proofs the while.
One good thing; the Chittam is moving slowly.
The
waiters all hurry him—what a contrast to last night l
Proofs read through again.
John St. John feels far
from well.
A stroll down the Boul’ Mich’ and avisit to M—’s
studio improve matters a good deal.
The cure continued.
No worry about the Work, but
an effort to put it altogether out of the mind.
A cafe creme, forty minutes at the Academic Marcelle
—a gruelling bout without the gloves—and J St. Jr
is at the Luxembourg to look at the pretty pictures.
The proof of the pudding, observes the most mystic of
discourses (surely !), is in the Eating.
117