I will not cry again to-day. I will not think of my burial again.----Melchior will lay a wreath on my coffin. Pastor Kahlbauch will console my parents. Rector Sonnenstich will cite examples from history.----It is possible that I shall not have a tombstone. I had wanted a snow-white marble urn on a pedestal of black syenite.----Thank God, I shall not miss them. Monuments are for the living, not for the dead. I should need a whole year to say farewell to everything in my thoughts. I will not cry again. I am so happy to be able to look back without bitterness. How many beautiful evenings I have passed with Melchior!----under the osiers; at the forester's house; on the highway where the five lindens stand; on the Schlossberg, among the restful ruins of the Runenburg.----When the hour comes, I will think with all my might of whipped cream. Whipped cream doesn't stay firm. It falls and leaves a pleasant after-taste.----I had thought men were infinitely worse. I haven't found one who didn't want to do his best. Many have suffered with me on my own account. I wander to the altar like the ancient Etrurian youth whose dying rattle bought his brothers' prosperity for the coming year.----I experience bit by bit the mysterious awe of liberation. I sob with sorrow over my lot.----Life has turned its cold shoulder to me. I see earnest, friendly glances luring me there in the distance, the headless queen, the headless queen--compassion awaiting me with open arms----Your commands concern minors; I carry my free ticket in myself. If the shell sinks, the butterfly flits from it; the delusion no longer holds.----You should drive no mad bargain with the swindle! The mists close in; life is bitter on the tongue. ILSE. (_In torn clothing, a bright cloth about her head, grabs him by the shoulder from behind._) What have you lost? MORITZ. Ilse! ILSE. What are you hunting here? MORITZ. Why did you frighten me so? ILSE. What are you hunting?----What have you lost? MORITZ. Why did you frighten me so fearfully? ILSE. I'm coming from town.----I'm going home. MORITZ. I don't know what I've lost. ILSE. Then seeking won't help you. MORITZ. Sakerment, sakerment! ILSE. I haven't been home for four days. MORITZ. Restless as a cat! ILSE. Because I have on my dancing slippers----Mother will make eyes!----Come to our house with me! MORITZ. Where have you been strolling again? ILSE. With the Priapia! MORITZ. Priapia? ILSE. With Nohl, with Fehrendorf, with Padinsky, with Lenz, Rank, Spühler--with all of them possible! Kling, kling----things were lively! MORITZ. Do they paint you? ILSE.