in Reinfeld, in Berlin, or on the train.  If you fall sick, I shall be a sluggard in Reinfeld all the autumn, or however long our marriage would be postponed, and cannot even associate with you quite unconstrainedly before the ceremony.  This matter of a betrothed couple seventy miles apart is not defensible; and, especially when I know you are ailing, I shall take the journey to see you, of course, as often as my public and private affairs permit.  It seems to me quite necessary to have the ceremony at the time already appointed; otherwise I should be much distressed, and I see no reason for it.  Don’t sell Brunette just now; you will ride her again soon.  I must be in Berlin at noon for a consultation about plans for tomorrow.  Farewell.  God strengthen you for joy and hope.

Your most faithful B.

Tomorrow I’ll send you a hat.[15]

Berlin, Sunday, May 30, ’47.

Tres Chere Jeanneton,—­Your letter of day before yesterday, which I have just received, has given me profound pleasure and poured into me a refreshing and more joyous essence:  your happier love of life is shared by me immediately.  I shall begin by reassuring you about your gloomy forebodings of Thursday evening.  At the very time when you were afflicted by them I was rejoicing in the happiness I had long missed, of living once more in a comfortable Schoenhaus bed, after I had suffered for weeks from the furnished-apartments couch in Berlin.  I slept very soundly, although with bad dreams—­nightmares—­which I ascribed to a late and heavy dinner, inasmuch as the peaceful occupations of the previous day—­consisting in viewing many promising crops and well-fed sheep, together with catching up with all sorts of police arrangements relating to dike, fire, and roads—­could not have occasioned them.  You see how little you can depend upon the maternal inheritance of forebodings.  Also in regard to the injurious effects of the Landtag excitement upon my health, I can completely reassure you.  I have discovered what I needed—­physical exercise—­to offset mental excitement and irregular diet.  Yesterday I spent in Potsdam, to be present at the water carnival—­a lively picture.  The great blue basins of the Havel, with the splendid surroundings of castles, bridges, churches, enlivened with several hundred gayly decorated boats, whose occupants, elegantly dressed gentlemen and ladies, bombard one another lavishly with bouquets when they can reach each other in passing or drawing up alongside.  The royal pair, the whole court, Potsdam’s fashionable people, and half of Berlin whirled in the skein of boats merrily, pell-mell; royalists and liberals all threw dry or wet flowers at the neighbor within reach.  Three steamboats at anchor, with musical choruses, constituted the centre of the ever-changing groups.  I had the opportunity to salute, hurriedly and with surprise, and throw flowers at, many acquaintances whom I had not seen for a long time.  My friend Schaffgotsch