His plan was to leave the letter with her, and return a little later for her answer.  The vehemence of his emotion at first prevented him from noticing that she did not greet him with her wonted heartiness; she complained of a headache, and would not hear of his coming back later that evening.  Suspecting nothing wrong, he ceased to urge her, but he felt that this was not the moment for delivering his letter.  He retained it, therefore, and, in a tumult of insatiable love, as he tore himself away from her he snatched one of her neckerchiefs, and, after pressing it madly to his lips, crushed it into his pocket.

His whole being was in a ferment of excitement as he walked aimlessly about the streets.  Midnight found him again in the neighbourhood of Mariana’s house; consciousness of the fact brought him to himself.  He went slowly away, set himself for home, and constantly turned round again; at last, with an effort, he constrained himself, and actually departed.  At the corner of the street, looking back yet once more, he imagined that he saw Mariana’s door open, and a dark figure issue from it.  He was too distant to see clearly, and in a moment the appearance was lost in the night.

On his way, he had almost effaced the unexpected delusion from his mind by the most sufficient reasons.  To soothe his heart, and put the last seal on his returning belief, ere he disrobed for the night, he took her kerchief from his pocket.  The rustle of a letter which fell from it took the kerchief from his lips; he lifted it, and read a passionate letter from another man, railing at her for her coldness on the preceding night, making an appointment for that same night, and breathing a spirit of intimate familiarity.

* * * * *

A violent fever, with its train of consequences, besides the unwearied attentions of his family, were so many fresh occupations for his mind, and formed a kind of painful entertainment.  On his recovery, he determined to abandon for ever his former leaning towards the stage, and to apply himself with greater diligence to business, and, to the great contentment of his father, no one was now more diligent in the counting-house.  For a long time he continued to show exemplary attention to his duties, and was then thought sufficiently master of his business to be sent on a long expedition on behalf of the firm.

The first part of his business successfully accomplished, Wilhelm found himself at a little mountain town called Hochdorf.  A troupe of actors had got stranded there, their exchequer empty, their properties seized as security for debts.  Wilhelm recognised among them an old man whom he recollected as having seen on the stage with Mariana.  After some hesitation, he hazarded a question concerning her.  “Do not speak to me of that baggage!” cried the old man.  “I am ashamed that I felt such a friendship for her.  Yet, had you known the girl better, you would excuse me.  I loved her