was as if some disillusion had frozen upon her； a hard
disbelief。 Part of her had gone cold； apathetic。 She was too
young； too baffled to understand； or even to know that she
suffered much。 And she was too deeply hurt to submit。
She had her blind agonies； when she wanted him； she wanted
him。 But from the moment of his departure； he had bee a
visionary thing of her own。 All her roused torment and passion
and yearning she turned to him。
She kept a diary； in which she wrote impulsive thoughts。
Seeing the moon in the sky； her own heart surcharged； she went
and wrote：
〃If I were the moon； I know where I would fall down。〃
It meant so much to her； that sentence……she put into it
all the anguish of her youth and her young passion and yearning。
She called to him from her heart wherever she went； her limbs
vibrated with anguish towards him wherever she was； the
radiating force of her soul seemed to travel to him； endlessly；
endlessly； and in her soul's own creation； find him。
But who was he； and where did he exist？ In her own desire
only。
She received a post…card from him； and she put it in her
bosom。 It did not mean much to her； really。 The second day； she
lost it； and never even remembered she had had it； till some
days afterwards。
The long weeks went by。 There came the constant bad news of
the war。 And she f