Up to the time of my little visit to La Ferte I had
innocently supposed that in referring to women as "the weaker sex" a man
was strictly within his rights. La Ferte, if it did nothing else for my
intelligence, rid it of this overpowering error. I recall, for example, a
period of sixteen days and nights spent (during my stay) by the woman
Lena in the _cabinot_. It was either toward the latter part of October or
the early part of November that this occurred, I will not be sure which.
The dampness of the Autumn was as terrible, under normal conditions--that
is to say in The Enormous Room--as any climatic eccentricity which I have
ever experienced. We had a wood-burning stove in the middle of the room,
which antiquated apparatus was kept going all day to the vast discomfort
of eyes and noses not to mention throats and lungs--the pungent smoke
filling the room with an atmosphere next to unbreathable, but tolerated
for the simple reason that it stood between ourselves and death. For even
with the stove going full blast the wall never ceased to sweat and even
trickle, so overpowering was the dampness. By night the chill was to
myself--fortunately bedded at least eighteen inches from the floor and
sleeping in my clothes; bed-roll, blankets, and all, under and over me
and around me--not merely perceptible but desolating.
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