This whole day passed so that one could not have wished it better. We
were merry as children. Assja was very lovable and natural. It was a
pleasure for Gagin to see her. It was late when I went away. In the
middle of the Rhine I told the ferryman to leave the boat to the
current. The old man drew in his oars and the majestic stream bore us
onward. While I looked about me and listened, and called forgotten
things to memory, I felt a sense of unrest in my heart. I turned my eyes
to the heavens, but in the heavens was no rest; with its glittering host
of stars it was in steady motion, revolving, trembling. I bent to the
river, but there also in the dark, cool depths the stars were dancing
and flickering; everywhere the restless spirit of life met me, and the
restlessness in my own heart grew stronger. I leaned over the side of
the boat. The murmuring of the breeze in my ears, the low splash of the
water against the stern of the boat, excited me, and the freshness of
the waves did not cool me. Somewhere on the shore a nightingale began
her song, and this music worked upon me like a sweet poison. Tears
filled my eyes, but not the tears of an indefinite rapture. What I
experienced was not the vague feeling of boundless longing in which it
seems as if the heart could embrace everything: no. In me arose a
burning desire for happiness. Only as yet I did not dare call this
happiness by its real name. But bliss--bliss to overflowing was what I
longed for. The boat drifted further and further, and the old ferryman
sat bowed over his oars and fast asleep.
* * * * *
On my way to the Gagins the following day I did not ask myself if I was
in love with Assja, but I thought of her continually; her destiny
absorbed me, and I rejoiced over our unhoped-for meeting. I felt that I
had known her only since yesterday. Until then she had always avoided
me. And now that she had finally admitted me to her friendship, in what
a bewitching light did her image appear to me; what a mysterious charm
streamed from it to me.
Hastily I sprang up the well-known path, straining my eyes for a glimpse
of the little white house in the distance. I did not think of the
future; I did not think even of the morrow; but my heart was light in
me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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