9 Mar
9 Mar
9 March 1920
When we reached the mountain tops we got out and lay on the grass, looking down down, into the valleys and over Monaco which is, if anything in this world is Cinnamon's capital. The palace seen from so high - with its tufts of plumy trees, the harbour basin with his yacht & a sail boat and a minute pinnace. Angelica's chemises were hanging out to dry in a royal courtyard. I saw them through the glasses. The hedge-sparrow had cushions & rugs for her. The american whose name is Bunny lay flat on her back smoking - Jinnie, never still for a moment roamed about & one heard her singing. She couldn't keep still & Connie (of course) unpacked the tea basket & fed us all & poured cream down us and then gave away the cakes to two funny little mountain children who watched us from behind a rock. We stayed there about 2 hours & then dropped down by another road to Monte. The light & the shadow were divided in the hills but the sun was still in the air all the time - the sea very rosy with a pale big moon over by Bordighera. We got home at 6.30 & there was my fire, the bed turned down - hot milk - May waiting to take off all my things. ‘Did you enjoy it Madam?' Can you imagine such a coming back to Life? Its simply incredible! But I was simply filled with thoughts of you all the time - every moment. I lay back in the car & talked to you . . . How can one repay them for all this? Its not money its not because they are rich it is the spirit of it all the way they do it, their voices and looks and tones. It is living by love. How I do scorn all that horrible old twisted existence I mean really the weekends at Garsington - the paralysis of everybody the vanity and ugliness of so much. [To J.M. Murry in Collected Letters, 4 March 1920]