"Heaven knows, my dear, good friend, what strange feeling, half sorrowful, half glad, moves us to write to you at this hour--when our souls, like two lightsome aërial voyagers, are preparing to take flight from the world. For you must know that we had determined to leave no p.p.c. cards upon our friends and acquaintances. The reason probably is, that we have thought of you a thousand times in as many happy moments, and pictured to ourselves a thousand times how you would have laughed good-naturedly if you had seen us together in the green or the red room. Yes, the world is a strange place! It is not unfitting that we two, Jette and I, two sorrowful, melancholy beings, who have always complained of each other's coldness, should have come to love each other dearly, the best proof of which is, that we are now about to die together. "Farewell, our dear, dear friend! May you be happy here upon earth, as it is doubtless possible to be! As for us, we have no desire for the joys of this world; our dream is of the plains of heaven and the heavenly suns, in whose light we shall wander with long wings upon our shoulders. Adieu! A kiss from me, the writer, to Müller. Tell him to think of me sometimes, and to continue to be a brave soldier of God, fighting against the devil of foolishness, who holds the world in his chains." Postscript in Henriette's writing:-- "Doch, wie dies alles zugegangen, Erzähl' ich euch zur ändern Zeit, Dazu bin ich zu eilig heut.[17] "Farewell, my dear friends! And do not forget to think, in joy and in sorrow, of the two strange beings who are now about to set out on the great voyage of discovery." HENRIETTE." (In Kleist's handwriting)--"Written in the green room, on the 21st of November, 1811. H. v. K." Kleist was the most intractable character in the intellectual world of the Germany of that day; he had, moreover, too much heart, too strong feelings. After he had given up all hope of attaining to a knowledge of the truth, he tried to build upon the foundation of feeling. As author he was able to do it; his _Michael Kohlhaas_ is based upon the feeling of justice, _Käthchen von Heilbronn_ upon the feeling of absolute devotion. But the real world to which he himself belonged had no use for strong, unmixed feeling such as his. He did not find it in others, and wherever he followed it himself, the consequences were disastrous. Alas! no; nothing was quite certain on this earth, not even his own vocation!