There is but one thing, which the outer world might afford me, that I still long for, and that is the music of a large orchestra. Fortunately, I often hear it in my dreams. How strange! While sleeping, my soul plays on all instruments, and performs great orchestral works which I never entirely succeeded in committing to memory.
We lead a dual life after all.
Freedom and labor are the noblest prerogatives of man. Solitude and industry constitute my all in all.
Walpurga has never referred to the warning she once gave me. With a rude hand, she snatched me from the edge of the precipice and, in return, I scolded and deceived her, while deceiving myself. She represses everything that might remind me of that scene.
To-day, Jochem confided to me the one grief that clouds his life: "They lead old oxen and cows to the slaughter-house," said he; "old horses and old dogs they shoot, and old men they feed to death--that's all the difference."
The dwelling-house on our farm has been neglected and is sadly in need of repair; but Hansei is not inclined to begin building at once.