th and death!
To die--to be laid in the earth, and to know that the eyes that once
glowed with life, and the lips that once smiled, are to decay. The very
idea is a barbarous one. Why do we know of death? We must be immortal,
or else it were terrible that we human beings should alone know that we
must die. The moth-fly did not know it. It simply thought the burning
light was a lovely flower, and died in that belief.

"Since last evening, we have been greatly concerned for the queen,
indeed, for a double life. She was so good, so angelic.--But no, she
still is, and will remain so. She will live. I have prayed for it with
all my heart. Away with doubts! My prayer must avail.

"When I met the king to-day he scarcely looked at me, and it is better
for me, that it should be thus. A feeling was beginning to bud within
me, and now I pluck it out by the roots. It dare not be. I will be his
comrade; his good, his best comrade.

"My piano, my music, my pictures, my statuettes, my bird--all seem
strange to me. A human being, a two-fold life, is in mortal danger.
What does all the trumpery in the world amount to now? All of it
together cannot save a human life. Is original sin a truth, and is it
because of that, that man must pass through the throes of death before
he can behold the light?

"I would like to read, but there is no book that can serve one in such
moments. One cannot even think. Nothing, nothing can be done. All the
wisdom in all the books is of no avail."

"_June 16th_.

"Hallelujah! I have just come from church. Oh, that my song could reach
you. I have just sung the Hallelujah as if I were pouring out my whole
soul to God above.

"Hallelujah!

"AH is well!

"The crown prince is born!

"The queen is doing well. The king is happy! the world is bright, and
the blue sky overhead is cloudless.

"God be praised, that I have so soon escaped from my perplexing doubts.
Perhaps it was all imagination, after all. There was not the slightest
ground for my alarm.

"I am but a silly cloister plant, after all, and do not yet understand
the ways of the court. Is it not so? I see you laughing at me, and see
the dimples in your cheeks. I send you many kisses. Ah, all are so good
and pious, and holy, and happy, and-- If I could only compose, I should
produce some great work. A mute Beethoven dwells within my soul."