Life must begin again for both of us, and already I breathe more freely. The Rubicon is passed. I believe that you will congratulate me. PROF. MAX WIEGAND TO DR. GUSTAV STRAUCH. BERLIN, December 12. Dear Gustav--Pardon me that I have so long delayed thanking you for your answer of friendly sympathy to my last letter. I have been in no condition to write, and even now find it difficult. You congratulate me without reserve on a step which you regard as essential to my welfare and to my intellectual development, but you do not take into consideration what it means to separate from one who has for eleven years been one’s constant companion, day and night. Indeed, it is only during these last dreary weeks that I, myself, have realized what the change signifies to me. Habit is all powerful, especially with men who, like you and me, live in the intellectual world and so require a solid substructure. How are we to take observations from the tower battlements when its foundations are not firmly established? Of course, I am as certain as ever I was that our decision is for the best interests of us both, but in this queer world of ours we can take no step without unlooked-for results. I am bothered from morn till night with trifles to which I have never given a thought since my bachelor days--things which I will not mention, so absurdly insignificant are they--and yet they rob me of my time and destroy my peace. I am at a loss what steps to take to rid myself of the thousand petty cares and annoyances which my wife has hitherto borne for me. These servants! Now that the cat is away they think that they can do just as they please, and you have no idea of the silly obstacles over which I am continually stumbling, of the wretched pitfalls which beset my path. Here is one instance out of many: For several days it has been very cold, and I can not find my fur coat. With the chambermaid’s assistance I have turned the whole house upside down, until she finally remembered that my wife, last spring, sent it to a furrier’s to be kept from the moth. But to which furrier? I have been to a dozen and can not find it. If I had only not agreed with my wife that we were, under no circumstances, to write to each other, I should simply ask her--but it is best so. No strain of the commonplace must mingle with the sad echoes of our farewell. No--a farce never follows a drama. Perhaps she might even imagine that I seize the first pretext to renew relations with her. Never! To-day it is six below zero. PROF. MAX WIEGAND TO FRAU EMMA WIEGAND. BERLIN, December 14.