of you is ever present
with me. I have often conversed in thought with you and your dear family,
though not always in the happy mood I could have wished, for that fatal
misunderstanding still hovered before me, and my conduct at that time is
now hateful in my sight. But so it was, and how much would I give to have
the power wholly to obliterate from my life a mode of acting so degrading
to myself, and so contrary to the usual tenor of my character!

Many circumstances, indeed, contributed to estrange us, and I suspect that
those tale-bearers who repeated alternately to you and to me our mutual
expressions were the chief obstacles to any good understanding between us.
Each believed that what was said proceeded from deliberate conviction,
whereas it arose only from anger, fanned by others; so we were both
mistaken. Your good and noble disposition, my dear friend, is sufficient
security that you have long since forgiven me. We are told that the best
proof of sincere contrition is to acknowledge our faults; and this is what
I wish to do. Let us now draw a veil over the whole affair, learning one
lesson from it,--that when friends are at variance, it is always better to
employ no mediator, but to communicate directly with each other.

With this you will receive a dedication from me [the variations on "Se vuol
ballare"]. My sole wish is that the work were greater and more worthy of
you. I was applied to here to publish this little work, and I take
advantage of the opportunity, my beloved Eleonore, to give you a proof of
my regard and friendship for yourself, and also a token of my enduring
remembrance of your family. Pray then accept this trifle, and do not forget
that it is offered by a devoted friend. Oh! if it only gives you pleasure,
my wishes will be fulfilled. May it in some degree recall the time when I
passed so many happy hours in your house! Perhaps it may serve to remind
you of me till I return, though this is indeed a distant prospect. Oh! how
we shall then rejoice together, my dear Eleonore! You will, I trust, find
your friend a happier man, all former forbidding, careworn furrows smoothed
away by time and better fortune.

When you see B. Koch [subsequently Countess Belderbusch], pray say that it
is unkind in her never once to have written to me. I wrote to her twice,
and three times to Malchus (afterwards Westphalian Minister of Finance),
but no answer. Tell her that if she does not choose to write herself, I be