In that I concurred.
“Why did you not drink to the first half of my toast, Martha?”
“Because I can have no wish about a campaign, except that it may never occur.”
When we had got back into the hotel, and into our bedroom, I threw myself on Frederick’s neck.
“My own one! Frederick! Frederick!”
“What is the matter with you, Martha? You are weeping; and to-day—on New-Year’s night! Why then salute the New Year with tears? Are you not happy? Have I given you any offence?”
“You? Oh no! no! You make me only too happy—much too happy—and that makes me anxious——”
“Superstitious, Martha? Do you then conjure up for yourself envious gods, who destroy men’s happiness when it is too great?”
“Not gods; it is senseless men who call misery down on themselves.”
“You are hinting at this possible war. But it is certainly not settled as yet. Why then this premature grief? Who knows whether it will come to blows? and who knows, if so, whether I shall be called out? Come here, my darling, and let us sit down,” and he drew me to the sofa by his side. “Do not spend your tears on a bare possibility.”