vening a quantity of curious things happened, which Wilhelm so
far had not observed in spite of his studies in natural science. He
could not touch his dinner, and Herr and Frau Ellrich's voices, against
all the laws of acoustics, seemed to come from the far distance, and
several minutes elapsed before the sounds reached his ears, although he
sat close to the speakers. The waiters and hotel guests looked odd, and
seemed to swim in a kind of rosy twilight. In the sky there seemed to
be three times as many stars as usual. When the Ellrichs had withdrawn
he went toward midnight alone into the fir woods, and heard unknown
birds sing, caught strange and magic harmonies in the rustling of the
branches, and felt as if he walked on air. He went to bed in the gray
of early dawn, after writing from his overflowing heart the following
letter to his friend Haber in Berlin:

"MY DEAREST PAUL: I am happy as I never thought of being happy. I love
an unspeakably beautiful sweet brown maiden, and I really think she
loves me too. Do not ask me to describe her. No words or brush could do
it. You will see her and worship her. Oh, Paul, I could shout and jump
or cry like a child. It is too foolish, and yet so unspeakably
splendid, I can hardly understand how the dull, stupid people in this
house can sleep so indifferently while she is under the same roof. If
only you were here! I can hardly bear my happiness alone. I write this
in great haste. Always your

"WlLHELM."

Four days later the post brought this answer from his friend:

"Well, you are done for, that is certain, my dear Wilhelm. Confound it,
you have gone in for it with a vengeance! I always thought that when
you did catch fire, you would give no end of a blaze. So all your
philosophy of abnegation, all your contempt for appearance go for
nothing. What is your sweet brown maiden but a charming appearance!
Nevertheless you have fallen completely in love with her, for which I
wish you happiness with all my heart. I do not doubt that she loves
you, because I should have been in love with you long ago if I had been
a sweet brown maiden, you shockingly beautiful man. One thing is very
like you, you say no word on what would most interest a Philistine like
myself, viz., the worldly circumstances of the adored one. I must know
her name, her relations, her descent. For all this you have naturally
no curiosity. A name is smoke and empty sound. Now don't let your love
go too far--sl