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The Letters of Katherine Mansfield: Volume II

October 1920

Oh, if you knew what a joy your Shakespeare was. I straightway dipped in The Tempest and discovered Ariel riding on curléd clouds. Isn't that adjective perfect? I'd missed it before. I do think The Tempest is the most radiant, delicate, exquisite play. The atmosphere is exactly the atmosphere of an island after a storm—an island re-born out of the sea with Caliban tossed up for sea wrack and Ariel blowing in a shell. Oh, my divine Shakespeare!! Oh, most blessed genius. Again I read of the love of Ferdinand and Miranda, how they met and recognised each other and their hearts spake. Everything —everything is new born and golden. God knows there are desert islands enough to go round—the difficulty is to sail away from them—but dream islands … they are rare, rare.

Just as I folded that I had callers. A M. et Madame showed on to the Terrace very gracious but Oh Dear! What a ghastly idea it is. What can one say? I can't play ‘ladies’ unless I know the children I'm playing with.

page 52

Now there's an asp come out of a hole—a slender creature, red, about twelve inches long. It lies moving its quick head. It is very evil looking but how much nicer than a caller. I was warned yesterday against attempting to kill them. (Do you see me trying to kill them?) But they spring at you—if you do. However, I'll catch this one for you at the risk of my life and put it in your Shakespeare for a marker at the scene where the old man carries in the basket of figs. You will have to hold your Shakespeare very firmly to prevent it wriggling, Anthony darling.

Lovingly yours,

Egypt.