ht German a language pleasing to the ear when he
heard it from Hartmann's lips.

These qualities soon won the heart of Frau Puricelli, who had at first
been very averse to making his acquaintance. The devout, conservative
lady had heard enough of his religious and political views to consider
him detestable. But after Hartmann had talked and read aloud to her and
her daughter in his charming way, she said to me, "What vexes me is that
in my old age I can't help liking such a red Democrat."

During that summer was formed the bond of friendship which, to his
life's premature end, united me to Moritz Hartmann, and led to a
correspondence which afforded me the greater pleasure the more certain
I became that he understood me. We met again in Wildbad the second and
third summers, and with what pleasure I remember our conversations in
the stillness of the shady woods! But we also shared a noisy amusement,
that of pistol practice, to which we daily devoted an hour. I was
obliged to fire from a wheel-chair, yet, like Hartmann, I could boast
of many a good shot; but the skill of Herr Rodiger, the author's
father-in-law, was really wonderful. Though his hand trembled constantly
from an attack of palsy, I don't know now how many times he pierced the
centre of the ace of hearts.

It was Hartmann, too, who constantly urged me to write. With all due
regard for science, he said he could not admit its right to prison
poesy when the latter showed so strong an impulse towards expression. I
secretly admitted the truth of his remark, but whenever I yielded to the
impulse to write I felt as if I were being disloyal to the mistress to
whom I had devoted all my physical and mental powers.

The conflict which for a long time stirred my whole soul began. I could
say much more of the first years I spent at Wildbad, but up to the fifth
season they bore too much resemblance to one another to be described in
detail.

A more brilliant summer than that of 1860 the quiet valley of the Enz
will hardly witness again, for during that season the invalid widow of
the Czar Nicholas of Russia came to the springs with a numerous suite,
and her presence attracted many other crowned heads--the King of
Prussia, afterwards the Emperor William I, her royal brother; her
beautiful daughter, Queen Olga of Wurtemberg, who, when she walked
through the grounds with her greyhound, called to mind the haughty
Artemis; the Queen of Bavaria--But I will not enumerate all t