"You don't know yourself how right you are," Niebeldingk sighed, looking out of the corner of an eye at the knight of several honourable orders who had now taken up his station in the shelter of the house opposite.
"Oh, but I do know it," Fritz answered. "If I could describe to you the contempt with which I regard my former mode of life … everything is different … different … so much purer … nobler … I'm absolutely a stoic now…. And that gives one a feeling of such peace, such serenity! And I have you to thank for it, Herr von Niebeldingk."
"I don't understand that. To teach in the stoa is a new employment for me."
"Well, didn't you introduce me to that noble lady? Wasn't it you?"
"Aha," said Niebeldingk. The image of Alice, smiling a gentle reproach, arose before him.
In the midst of this silly and sordid business that had overtaken him, he had almost lost sight of her. More than a week had passed since he had crossed her threshold.
"How is the dear lady?" he asked.
"Oh, splendid," Fritz said, "just splendid."
"Have you seen her often?"
"Certainly," Fritz replied, "we're reading Marcus Aurelius together now."