I knew at once and exactly what it was that I was living over again.It all came back. I was living again an hour of the last years of my boyhood, a Sunday afternoon in early Spring, the day that on a lonely walk I met Rosa Kreisler and greeted her so shyly and fell in Love with her so madly.
In that moment was contained the shock and forewarning of enormous possiblitties and promises, nameless delight, unthinkable bewilderments, anguish, suffering, release to the innermost and deepest guilt. Oh, how sharp was the bitter taste of Spring on my tongue! And how the wind streamed playfully through the loose hair beside her rosy cheeks! She was close now. She looked up and recognized me. For a moment she blushed a little and looked aside; but when I took off my cap, she was self posessed at once and, raising her head, returned my greeting with a smile that was quite grown-up. Then, etirely mistress of the situation, she went slowly on, in a halo of the thousand wishes, hopes and adorations that I sent after her.
We clasped hands, and hand in hand walked slowly on as happy as we were embarrassed. We did not not know what to do or to say, so we began to walk faster from embarrasment and then broke into a run, and ran till we lost our breath and had to stand still. But we did not let our hands go. We were both still children and did not know quite what to do with each other.
All was at it was then, and it seemed to me that I had never in my life Loved as I had Loved Rosa that day.
We climbed one little step up on the ladder of Love. And thus, beginning from Rosa and our violets, I lived again through all the loves of my life- but under happier stars. Rosa I lost, and Irmagard appeared; and the sun was warmer and the stars less steady, But Irmagard no more than Rosa was mine. Step by step I had to climb. There was much to live through and much to learn; and I had to lose Irmagard and Anna too. Every girl that I had once loved in my youth, I loved again, But now I was able to inspire each with Love. There was something I could give to each, something each could give to me.
I was nothing now but the lover and I breathed no other happiness and no other suffering than Love. Irmagard had already taught me to dance and Ida to kiss, and it was Emma first, the most beautifull of them all, who on an autumn evening beneath a swaying elm gave me her brown breasts to kiss and the cup of passion to drink.
All the girls I had ever loved were mine. Each gave me what she alone had to give and to each I gave what she alone knew how to take. Much love, much happiness, much indulgence, and much bewilderment,too, and suffering fell to my share. All the Love that I had missed in my life bloomed magically in my garden during this hour of dreams.
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