Lothar asked me quite naively if he might not go with us. "You rascal!" I said. "Off home with you!" At the right time and place, gentlemen, I can be very severe. * * * * * It was striking half-past four as I got back to Ilgenstein. I was beastly tired. My legs were hanging from my body like pieces of dead wood. Everything was quiet, as I had sent the whole household to bed before going. Walking along the corridor, where the lights were still burning, I saw a door decorated with wreaths. It led to the bridal chamber which my sister had kept locked up till then as a surprise. Moved by curiosity I opened the door and looked in. I beheld a purple sepulchral vault, a mixture of strange scents almost choked me. Everything was hung with curtains and draperies, and from the ceiling swung a real lighted church lamp. In the background, on a raised dais, there had been erected a sort of catafalque with golden ornaments and silken covers. It was there that I should have had to sleep! "B-r-r-r!" I said and shut the door and ran away as quickly as my limping legs would carry me. And then I came to my own room and lit my lovely bright students' lamp. It smiled at me like the sun itself. In the corner stood my old narrow camp bed with its red-stained posts, the grey straw bag, and the worn deerskin robe. Well, gentlemen, you can imagine how delicious I felt. I undressed, lit a good cigar, jumped into bed, and read an interesting chapter of the history of the Franco-Prussian War. And I can assure you, gentlemen, that I never slept more soundly than on my bridal night. THE WOMAN WHO WAS HIS FRIEND Oh, how tired I am, dear lady! I've been writing New Year's letters the whole day and have disposed of everything that has gone unanswered the entire year. Goodness, what ancient debts turned up! And what an awful lazybones I've been! The number of good friends that I've insulted through sheer neglect, the number of little thorns I've left sticking in people's flesh! But enough said. I sent out New Year's cards, too, and you will also receive my card on New Year's morning with a stiff "Many wishes for a Happy New Year" and not so much as even a sugary little verse beside the 1/1/86. Don't laugh. On second thought 1/1 is a highly significant figure, and we oughtn't to make fun of it the way I did. The day it designates is a turning-point for people's hearts. On that day love changes its residence. Not always, of course. Many people have a contract for a number of years, for life even, and it's a good snug berth that love falls into in homey dwelling-places like that. But the giddy creatures, the butterflies--if one may speak of butterflies at New Year--the ones that have been evicted and all the others who are looking for new quarters either out of choice or out of necessity--you see them preparing at New Year's time for moving in or moving out.