“Tell me the ground of your joy, dearest Franka ... let us speak of your future.”
Franka had not changed her position. Her eyes were still closed, her head leaning back: “No, no, nothing of the future now. I wanted to anchor my joyous feeling in the present, that only safe anchorage.... But I am willing”—she sat erect and withdrew her hand—“I am willing ... let us talk of my future plans. I decided day before yesterday to withdraw from publicity. That address is to be my last.”
“Is that his wish?”
“Whose wish?... Oh, I see what you mean.... You are mistaken. If what you imagine had come about, then, of course, the lecture trips would have had to cease, but it has not come about.”
“It will,” interrupted Frau Eleonore, “if you mean by this mysterious reference the threatened proposal of the violet prince.”
“Even in that case it is a question how I should deal with it,” retorted Franka.
A stone fell from Chlodwig’s heart.... Now he, too, felt flooded with the joy of the present.
“My decision,” pursued Franka, “is quite independent of these eventualities. It takes its rise from entirely new views, intuitions, and wishes which have come to me here during this wonderful week.”
“And you are going to give up your activity?”
“Traveling and public speaking, yes. I see before me other possibilities of work. And, besides, did you not advise pretty much the same thing after my last address?”