“What poet?” Christian asked innocently.
“Almost any,” Crammon answered.
“Do you read poetry?” Christian was curious.
“Now and then,” Crammon answered, “when prose gets stale. Thus I pay my debts to the world-spirit.”
They sat down on a bench under a great plantain. Christian watched the scene silently for a while. Then he asked suddenly, “Tell me, Bernard, what is this seriousness of life that most people make such a fuss about?”
Crammon laughed softly to himself. “Patience, my dear boy, patience! You’ll find out for yourself.”
He laughed again and folded his hands comfortably over his abdomen. But over the lovely landscape and the lovely night there fell a veil of melancholy.
IX
Christian wanted Crammon to accompany him and Alfred Meerholz, the general’s son, to St. Moritz for the winter sports; but Crammon had to attend Konrad von Westernach’s wedding in Vienna. So they agreed to meet in Wiesbaden, where Frau Wahnschaffe and Judith would join them in the spring.