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The Letters of Katherine Mansfield: Volume I

Nearly the end of the year — December 24, 1915 —

Nearly the end of the year
December 24, 1915

To S. S. Koteliansky

My extremely wicked and neglectful and utterly faithless friend!

At last you have sent me a letter and although it only arrived a few moments ago and you certainly do not deserve an answer I will just write two words to prove once and for all my complete superiority of nature over you. You need not bother to write me letters if it is a trouble to you; it's enough if, occasionally you send me a little card and tell me that you have not forgotten. For I shall not forget you. I often think of you. I wish you would come into my room now and smoke a cigarette with me. It is very quiet here and outside the window the sea is trembling under the moon. My room smells faintly of wood from the fire—you would like it.

page 54

I am very happy here. The place is so beautiful and the sun shines—or it doesn't—There is the sea and a wild beautiful coast—and behind the village there are woods and mountains. Already I have so many ‘secret’ places—The people are awfully nice too. They are honest; one can be oneself with them. You know, you can lean over the fence and talk to the old man who is cutting flowers or you can sit on a rock and talk to the old, old woman who is cutting heather—and you are “at home.” There are many fishermen, too; fishermen are always very true.

Oh, my God! I am very happy. When I shut my eyes I cannot help smiling—You know what joy it is to give your heart—freely—freely. Everything that happens is an adventure. When the wind blows I go to the windiest possible place and I feel the cold come flying under my arms—When the sea is high I go down among the rocks where the spray reaches and I have games with the sea like I used to years ago. And to see the sun rise and set seems miracle enough.

When I first came here I was really very ill and unhappy but that is over now—and London, you know seems remote—remote—as though it did not exist. Those last hateful and wasted months are blotted out. Next time we see each other really we will be happy. Don't always remember the ‘wicked’ me. But one day we shall see each other again and be frightfully happy—Let us promise each other. I want to tell you all about the people here (but that would fill books) and all about the place (and that would not interest you). So pretend I have told you. At any rate it is too dark to see anything or anybody now. My brother is here often, laughing, and calling “Do you remember, Katy?”

It is a beautiful night—so beautiful that you are half afraid to take it into your breast when you breathe.

This is not a letter at all—only a message—Take care of yourself. I do not know why but just this moment I see awfully clearly the elephant on your big inkstand. page 55 And I want a reply immediately but you won't send me one. You will be wise and severe with me as you always are—Goodnight.