I arrived early in the morning and found Minna still in bed. She
was anxious to know whether I had returned simply out of pity;
but I quickly succeeded in obtaining her promise that she would
never again refer to what had taken place. She was soon quite
herself again when she began to show me the progress she had made
in arranging the rooms.

Our position had for some years been growing more comfortable, in
spite of the fact that at this time various difficulties again
arose, and our domestic happiness seemed tolerably secure. Yet I
could never quite master a restless inclination to deviate from
anything that was regarded as conventional.

Our two pets, Peps and Papo, largely helped to make our lodgings
homelike; both were very fond of me, and were sometimes even too
obtrusive in showing their affection. Peps would always lie
behind me in the armchair while I was working, and Papo, after
repeatedly calling out 'Richard' in vain, would often come
fluttering into my study if I stayed away from the sitting-room
too long. He would then settle down on my desk and vigorously
shuffle about the papers and pens. He was so well trained that he
never uttered the ordinary cry of a bird, but expressed his
sentiments only by talking or singing. As soon as he heard my
step on the staircase he would begin whistling a tune, as, for
instance, the great march in the finale of the Symphony in C
minor, the beginning of the Eighth Symphony in F major, or even a
bright bit out of the Rienzi Overture. Peps, our little dog, on
the other hand, was a highly sensitive and nervous creature. My
friends used to call him 'Peps the petulant,' and there were