to her dearest Wilhelm.”  So he gathered from her frivolous letters much that was unspoken, and through signs and indications believed that her feeling for him was there and gained strength.  His answers were short and rather compressed.  The knowledge that they would be seen by her prosaic parents, and that Loulou herself would hardly trouble to read anything in the midst of her whirl of gayety, deprived him of words, stopped the flow of his feelings, and turned his expressions into mere Philistinisms.  But, on the other Land, Loulou’s mother was delighted to have another correspondent, and so she wrote to him often.  These perfumed letters from Ostend refreshed him by the remembrance of the lovable face with the dimples, bringing back again the whole charm of the Hornberg days.

At the end of September came the announcement that the Ellrichs had left Ostend, and were going to pay a visit for a fortnight to friends in England, and toward the middle of October a letter, bearing the Berlin postmark, arrived in Loulou’s handwriting.  It said: 

“Dearest Wilhem:  We came home to-day.  I cannot sleep until I have written to you.  Come to see me quite soon.  Will you not?  How glad I am!  Are you glad too?  A thousand greetings.  Loulou.”

He would like to have gone directly to the Lennestrasse, but etiquette stood between him and his fiancee, and showed him in its cold fashion that they were now in the city and not in the forest, that nature had nothing to do with them here, and had handed them over to the laws of society.  However, as soon as he dared venture, he went and rang at the door-bell.  This first visit was a combination of painful feelings for Wilhelm, for while his heart beat, that now he was near the dearest one on earth, he was conscious that here he was a stranger.  A servant dressed in black who opened the door did not seem to expect him, and asked him whom he wanted.  When Wilhelm asked for Frau Ellrich, he said shortly that she was not at home.  In spite of this Wilhelm took out his card, and holding it out said, “Will you kindly announce me, as I am expected.”  The man left him in an anteroom, and after a short pause took him into the drawing-room.  He soon returned, with a manner entirely changed, and submissively asked Wilhelm to follow him to a little blue boudoir, where Loulou received him with a joyful exclamation, but the first greetings, owing to the servant’s presence, were exchanged without an embrace, and when they were alone Wilhelm only found sufficient courage to kiss her hand.

It was quite different now from the old times at the Scloss hotel, and in the woodland paths at Hornberg.  Wilhelm had to keep to visiting hours, and was seldom alone with Loulou.  He took courage then to say “Du,” but it was forbidden before other people.  To kiss her in those drawing rooms with their betraying mirrors, and their portieres, and carpets was hardly possible.  He was frequently