You are not only a clever and capable man, you are kind, and an entertaining companion; in short, you have many excellent qualities which Lili exalted to the skies. But your nature is not very poetical; you are, in fact, rather prosaic, and only believe what you see.
Contrast this with Lili’s immense forbearance. You remember how we used to laugh when she defended some criminal who was beyond all defence or apology. Something intense and far-seeing came into her expression, and her heart, prompted such a line of argument which reason could not support. She stood all alone in her sympathy, facing cold and incredulous people.
Then recollect the pleasure it gave her to discuss religious and philosophical questions.
She was not “religious” in the common acceptation of the word. But she liked to get at the bottom of things, and to use her imagination. We others were indifferent or frankly bored.
And Lili was so gentle she gave way to us.
Recall, too, her passion for flowers. She felt a physical pang to see cut flowers with their stalks out of water. Once I saw her buy up a flower girl’s whole stock, because the poor things wanted water. You and your children have no love of flowers. As a doctor, you are inclined to think it unhealthy to have plants in your rooms; consequently there were none and Lili never grumbled.
Lili did not care for modern music. César Franck wearied her, and Wagner gave her a headache. An old-fashioned harpsichord would be her favourite instrument, whereas at home her daughters thundered out Rubinstein and Wagner upon a concert grand, and you, dear Professor, when in a good humour, strode about the house whistling horribly out of tune.
Finally, Lili liked quiet, musical speech, and she was surrounded by people who talked at the top of their voices.
... She was happy because she willed to be happy. She had made up her mind that she was the luckiest woman in existence ... happy in everything, and she was deeply grateful to you. But in the depths of her heart—so deep down that it never rose to the surface even as a dream—lay that secret trouble which has caused the present mischief.
I know nothing of her relations to Schlegel, but I think I may venture to say that they were chiefly limited to intercourse of the soul; ... and so were fatal. Have you ever noticed the timbre of Schlegel’s voice? He spoke slowly and so softly; I can quite believe it attracted your wife in the beginning; and that afterwards gradually, and almost imperceptibly, she gravitated towards him.