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349
The Journal of a Disappointed Man
·
W. N. P. Barbellion
253
February
16.
We
took
possession
of
our
country
cottage
to-day:
very
charming
and
overlooking
a
beautiful
Park.
Have
just
discovered
the
Journal
of
the
De
Goncourts
and
been
reading
it
greedily.
Life
has
really
been
a
commodity.
I
am
boiling
over
with
vitality,
chattering
amiably
to
everyone
about
nothing--argumentative,
sanguine,
serious,
ridiculous.
I
called
old
R----
a
Rapscallion,
a
Curmudgeon,
and
a
Scaramouche,
and
E----
a
trull,
a
drab,
a
trollop,
a
callet.
"You
certainly
are
a
unique
husband,"
said
that
sweet
little
lady,
and
I....
With
me,
one
of
the
symptoms
of
delirium
is
always
a
melodramatic
truculence!
I
shake
my
fist
in
R----'s
face
and
make
him
explode
with
laughing....
The
sun
to-day,
and
the
great,
whopping
white
clouds
all
bellied
out,
made
me
feel
inside
quite
a
bright
young
dog
wriggling
its
body
in
ecstatic
delight
let
loose
upon
the
green
sward.
"You
must
come
down
for
a
week
end,"
I
said
to
R----
at
lunch.
"Come
down
as
soon
as
you
can.
You
will
find
every
comfort.
It
is
an
enormous
house--I
have
not
succeeded
in
finding
my
way
about
it
and--it's
dangerous
to
lose
yourself--makes
you
late
for
dinner.
When
you
arrive
our
gilded
janitor
will
say:
'I
believe
Mr.
Barbellion
is
in
the
library.'"
"Black
eunuchs
wait
on
you
at
dinner,
I
suppose,"
R----
rejoined.
"Oh!
yes
and
golden
chandeliers
and
a
marble
stair-case--all
in
barbaric
splendour."
"Yes,
I
shall
certainly
be
glad
to
come
down,"
said
R----,
phlegmatically.
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