R. W. 225.
DEAR FRANZ,
Believe me, by all that is sacred to you and me, that I am ill, and require the most perfect rest and care today, in order, let us hope, to enjoy you again tomorrow. A very considerable, though welcome and wholesome, catarrh weighs down my limbs like lead. It developed during last night, together with an inflamed throat and other addenda. The slightest excitement would impede my recovery.
Au revoir in a rational matter tomorrow.
Yours,
W. R.
226.
MY DEAREST FRANZ,
I must think it really fortunate that you this time cultivate a few other acquaintances, and that I may therefore disappear for a short time without attracting too much attention.
My catarrh has developed so thoroughly and nobly, that I may hope it will rid me of my usual winter illness, if I take proper care of it; even now I perceive the beneficial effect of nature's self-relief, although I feel as if leaden fetters were on me. I am sure that I shall be better in a few days, and am looking forward to offering you the fruits of my recovery in the shape of an excellent temper.