We went to the Frauensee and crossed over to the convent. Among the nuns, I saw my beloved Emma, who makes a yearly pilgrimage to my gravestone. For the first time in many years, I prayed with her. What difference does it make whether one still lives or is dead, as long as the thought--
My hand trembles while I write, but I will....
I had left the convent and was returning across the lake, when the thought flashed upon me: "I expiate in freedom! That is my only pride. My will holds me as fast as the bolts of the convent gate would do, and I--I--work--"
Everything was carried out just as I had determined. I saw the whole world once more and bade it adieu.
We journeyed to the capital. The city noises and the rapid driving alarmed me.
When I again heard the rustling of a silk gown, for the first time, the sound quite affected me. I felt as if impelled to accost the first lady I met in a fashionable bonnet and veil. These people seemed to belong to me. I felt as if returning from the lower regions into sunlight.
I stopped to read the placards that were posted up at the corners of the streets. Am I still living in the same world?
There is music, singing, etc. One amuses the other. No one finds life's joys within himself.
All things in this world are related to each other. Thou hast lost the connecting link.
I was sitting in a small inn, while I looked on at the bustling life of the city.