Letter from Arnold Majorek, still staying in Chylice, on one sheet with fine perforation along the top edge (bottom edge for the verso side). Notes are in the addressee’s hand: three times "5" at the top edge of the recto page – indication of the letter number. Actually, this is the fourth letter sent before the one first dated 4 July 1943, which Majorek did not finish writing and completed in August, to send it only then.
Full text of the letter:
Darling,
the latest pause in our correspondence has been long. It is not my fault. The reasons are no longer psychological (as I very ineptly tried to explain to you, out of fear of excessive emotionality on your end), but simply technical: after the last "outpouring" of my old regrets, I had to be more zealous in my duties as an educator and, what is worse, "mounsieur de compagnie" (masculine form of "dame de compagnie").
While we have seen each other quite often recently, I missed your letters. Have you noticed, Renia, that our personal contact and our correspondence flow somewhat parallel to each other but, as it were, in different dimensions. It is funny, but each of us has a sort of double character. I find it more distinct in you. How different you are "in the original", in the daylight (but almost always in greater company) – and how different in the letters that bring you to me extremely tender, delicate, sensitive and... a bit emotional (please forgive me in the name of my grey hair). The same goes, of course, for me. And since I cannot write to you in any other way than with utmost sincerity and truthfulness, I need a lot of time and peace to write to Renia (my innate pedantry makes me look for the most accurate expression of my thoughts). At the moment, anyway, I am completely distressed because of a terrible noise, but I want to send this letter to you tomorrow.
Coming back to Renia "in the original", I am worried about your spiritual state: not shiny at all. This may be partly due to the "inborn shyness" (I know these things, but by God, would I be so intimidating ?!), but there is definitely something at the bottom, some "catastrophe" that you are living through on your own, deep inside and secretly; you are exhausting and tormenting yourself, stifling it all within you [.]
After all, there are people (for sure) you can share your worries with. I know for myself how much relief it brings, and how lighter the burden of these disasters seems afterwards. You ask me if I know what friendship is.
I know, Renia, I know, I have known friendship many times with all the ups and downs [the word underlined] (most often apparent [the word underlined], when excessive idealism crashes against reality) and I know that friendship means giving and taking. In the most sincere, warmest, heartfelt, unlimited, unreserved way, without conventions that are meant for ordinary people. I know it well and I have experienced it painfully more than once that it is impossible to say everything completely, that dreams of a full, perfect spiritual union remain, unfortunately, just dreams in life. But we say to one another: here I am [crossed out: "bare"] open to the very core of my soul, here are all my "things of blood", bad, good, vile, cruel, noble – human. Take me as I give myself to you, and know that I am clean, because if there is meanness and littleness in me, they make me suffer beyond their measure.
Yesterday I spent a few carefree and hearty hours with all of you, but you have remained in my memory as worried and downcast, and somehow separated from me (still shyness?). So if the "original" is troubled and pressed by something and cannot talk about it, let her write it down.
Write, my dear, write, because I need your letters too. And I don’t want you to be oppressed by anything.
I kiss your eyes
a
