Scarcely had I entered the cars, when the other thing began.

Those eight hours on the rail were so terrible to me that I shall never forget them in my life.

Was it because on entering the car I had a vivid imagination of having already arrived, or because the railway acts upon people in such an exciting fashion?
At any rate, after boarding the train I could no longer control my imagination, which incessantly, with extraordinary vivacity, drew pictures before my eyes, each more cynical than its predecessor, which kindled my jealousy.
And always the same things about what was happening at home during my absence.

I burned with indignation, with rage, and with a peculiar feeling which steeped me in humiliation, as I contemplated these pictures.

And I could not tear myself out of this condition.