Tagore said: "The eyes are raining for her, but the heart is carrying an umbrella for her, this is love." The sweetest is love, and the most bitter is love. Love is two people who miss each other, accompany each other, ask for warmth, and look forward to a better future together. However, in the famous work "Letter from a Strange Woman" by the Austrian writer Zweig, we see a different kind of love, which makes people sigh and sigh and cry...
Among the many letters, a letter twenty or thirty pages thick aroused the curiosity of the famous novelist R. The letter was handwritten by a strange woman, and neither the envelope nor the letterhead had the address and signature of the letter writer. This made R feel even more strange, so he began to read the letter, and it was only then that this heart-wrenching story came to light...
<h1 class= "pgc-h-arrow-right" > ignorant childhood, a quietly budding love. </h1>
Her father died early, and she and her mother and mother depended on each other for their lives. At the age of thirteen, the novelist R moved her home to the same floor as hers, right door to door. When she moved, she saw that his house had all kinds of unique furniture, books in different national languages, and huge oil paintings with bright colors. In her young heart, she was full of freshness and curiosity about its owner. In her imagination he was so learned, so rich. She couldn't help but feel an otherworldly reverence. She imagined R as an old gentleman with glasses and a long white beard. However, when he saw R, he realized that he was only twenty-five years old. Young and lively, handsome and handsome, and charming.
From then on, the child was like a demon. She was eager to study, and her grades jumped to the top of the class, because she knew that R liked books, and she suddenly practiced the piano, because she knew that R loved music. She brushed her clothes every day just to look clean in front of R. Every day, she looked into R's whereabouts in the peephole in her door. Sitting on the icy porch, waiting for R to appear.
She recognized every tie and every outfit of R,each of his friends. Although from time to time a woman visited his home, she didn't care. It was all happening quietly, how absurd it seemed, and no one but herself knew. R barely made a face-to-face look at her, let alone said a word. Every time she met R on the stairs, she blushed and hurried away.
When she was sixteen years old, her mother remarried, and she had no choice but to leave Vienna and move to Innsbruck. On her last night here, she was determined to see R again, snuggling tightly to R's side. That night, she stood guard on the porch of her house. There was no stool, she was on the ground, and a cold wind blew through the crack of the door, and she was sleepy and cold, and her body was cold and painful. At two or three o'clock in the morning, R finally came home, but he came back with a woman, and she didn't know how she survived this night...
During Sbruck's two years, she missed R all the time. She bought all the books R had written. After reading and reading, almost every line in the book can be memorized. At the age of 18, she finally returned to Vienna and worked as a clerk in a clothing store. After a busy, tiring job. Every night she came to R's room and waited quietly. I only wish I could see him and see him.
One day, she finally got her wish. On the road in front of R's house, they met. He noticed her, and at this time, she was no longer the thin little girl she had been, but had grown into a big girl with Tingting Yuli. Of course R didn't recognize her, and she didn't tell him to keep this secret in her heart forever. Later, they had dinner together and spent the Spring Festival together. At this moment, she feels that she is the luckiest and happiest person in the world. After three soul-destroying nights together, R was leaving for a trip. How unbearable she was to part, she left her address for R, hoping he would come home and write to herself. However, R did not give her a word, and since then there has been no news...
<h1 class = "pgc-h-arrow-right" > a lifelong obsession, a dream. </h1>
She was pregnant with R's child, but she didn't want to tell him and didn't go to him. She was afraid that he would suspect that she was a casual woman, afraid that he would say that it was not his own flesh and blood, that she had come to him for money. She understands that R only likes to enjoy the relaxed and pleasant male and female love, and she is afraid of becoming a stress and burden to him. She was even afraid he would let her beat up the baby. It was her flesh and bones, another incarnation of R, the crystallization of her love for him.
She did not dare to tell her family about this, and she stood up alone. In the months after giving birth, she could not go to work, had no income, and had to sell her first hat in exchange for a meager income. In the end, he was impoverished and had to be admitted to the worst maternity hospital, mixed with the lowest classes such as prostitutes and wanderers.
After the child is born, how hard it is for a woman to raise the child alone. In order to give her children a good educational environment, she betrayed herself, and she always had rich lovers around her. She just wants more money from those men. Some of them also moved their true feelings and proposed to her. However, her heart is only full of R, and she will spend her life waiting for him, waiting for his call at any time.
In the years that followed, a few times, in the opera house. She recognized R, and even they sat next to each other in the box, very close. But R may not have noticed her or recognized her.
Ten years after her and R separated, once she and her friends went to a dance party. Unexpectedly met R. This time, she dressed up gorgeously and beautifully, and exuded the charm of a mature woman. She caught R's eye. But sadly, he still didn't recognize her, he just treated her like a new woman, a new prey. They spent her unforgettable fourth night together, and she thought R would remember who she was. However, dawn soon came, and she was long gone from R's memory. Not only did he not recognize her, but when he left, he sent her money and treated her like a prostitute. This insult made her miserable, and her tears came out of her eyes...
A day earlier, their son had died of the flu. She felt a chill in her body and a high fever. She estimated that she was dying, so she picked up her pen and wrote this letter to R.
<h1 class = "pgc-h-arrow-right" > if love is not mutually pleasing, why bother torturing yourself with your life. </h1>
Looking at Zweig's work, it is touching to tears that the heroine's pure and sincere love. Her love is pure, she does not seek material things, she does not seek fame. Only for the sake of the beloved, silently pay, regardless of return. Even if the people she loved didn't know her name and didn't remember her countenance, she was obsessed with him all her life.
After reading this story, there is also an unspeakable heartache. The man that the hostess has devoted her life to loving is just a bubble of her own love. She was just a passer-by in his life, a erotic game, and left no trace in his life. Beautiful love is the heart of the heart, the two are happy. A person's unrequited love cannot enjoy the sweetness and warmth of love, but only tortures himself, meaningless. A woman's sincerity should be given to someone who knows how to cherish it, what do you think?