her secondary stage and Samia—my beloved child—was in the primary classes. Samia has not grown a bit past the age of ten.. in her play and her behavior; rather she has remained as I have always known her, a little beauty with no concern but play and "mischief," and everything she does that is worth any effort is her studying before the examinations. But apart from that, I do not feel that she has any interest in the serious sides of life. Love, for instance, she does not know and has not tasted, for she is ignorant of its meaning; she does not understand how people love, and how they suffer in their love.. she does not understand that I love her with all my heart, and even if I told her she would not believe me, and would pay no attention.
Would that I could feel toward her the same feeling I had last year. My feeling was the feeling of a grown young man toward a child: I would play with her, and amuse myself watching her as she skipped, or raced along the shore with the children of the quarter..
She was always the winner.. and I was the judge among them, so when she was the first to reach me I would pull her braids and lift her up between my hands, and she would try to wriggle free of me, and when she could not she would give me a sound kicking with her two little feet..
.. Perhaps that time was the turning point in my life, for I began to feel a pleasure in pulling her braids and in receiving her kicks. I began to wait for three o'clock every afternoon, to go to the sea and amuse myself with her and with her little friends, until this became a part of my daily program that I hated to break even once.
And when the summer ended I felt an enormous emptiness, and a great longing for the sea and for playing on the shore. And little by little I discovered in myself how
much I love her and how much this beautiful child means to me.
I was a fool yesterday, but tomorrow I shall broach the matter with her, and I shall see how far my attempts will succeed.
August 25
Here are days that have passed, and I have written nothing in my diary, for I have grown oblivious of everything in my attempts to draw this child to me and to make her realize the truth of my feelings. But she would give me no chance to complete them, for whenever I called her and put on a serious air with her, she would slip out of my hand and run laughing to where her mother sat with my mother..
And she has noticed in me an absentmindedness she was not used to from me, perhaps because I was always laughing with her and mocking her... So yesterday she said a word to me from which I learned that the little one
understands more than appears of her.. understands what goes on in hearts.. For yesterday she looked at me mockingly and said: "I should like to thank her from the depths of my heart, that girl who has taken away your mind and distracted you from mocking me." And she darted away laughing.. leaving me with stunned glances and open mouth.. And doubt has begun to torment me, so I have gone back to thinking to myself: does she know that I love her? Or does she not know it? Is this cursed girl mocking me while she knows the truth of my feeling?! Perhaps she thinks that I love some distant girl, and mocks me on account of that feeling, which her simple perceptions consider a trifling thing.. and so she expresses her mockery with that innocent, indifferent laugh?!
Would that I knew what goes on in her little head—then I would count myself a happy man.
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Madam...
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