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The Letters of Katherine Mansfield: Volume I

Saturday — March 23, 1918

Saturday
March 23, 1918

It is simply horrible, but it can't be helped and I must just go on, trusting that they will finally let me through…. I have written to Bedford Square, applied at the Police for permission to return and now there is nothing to do but wait.

This place is in a queer frame of mind. I came out of page 162 the restaurant last night into plein noir—all the cafés shut, all the houses. Couldn't understand it. Looked up and saw a very lovely aeroplane with blue lights (“couleur d'espoir,” said an old man, pointing to it) and at the door of the hotel was met by the manager and made to descend to the caves. There had been an alerte. About 50 people came, and there we stayed more than long enough. It was a cold place and I was tired. At eight this morning as I lay in bed—bang! whizz!—off they went again. I washed and dressed and just had time to get downstairs before the cannons started. Well, that alerte n'est pas encore finie. It's now 3.45! Most of the shops are shut—all the post offices—the shops that are not quite have a hole in the shutters, and you put your arms over your head and dive through. The curse is the post office, as I have to register my letter to Bedford Square, and now I've lost a whole day. I have gone out, between the showers, to the police and fixed all that up, thank goodness—and now, as soon as I can post this letter, there will be rien à faire qu'attendre. C'est joliment assez!

I look out at the lovely day and think: I might have been at Havre by now…. This waste of life here. Why should the Lord treat us so. It's not fair.

[Note added by J. Middleton Murry:]

[K. M. did not arrive in London until April 11th.]