prayer. All the angels will guard you, my beloved heart, so that we
shall soon meet again with joy. Farewell, and salute your parents. I
wrote your father this morning. Your faithful BISMARCK.


Berlin, Friday, May 15, '47.

_Dear Heart_,--Your father gave me your letter this morning at the
session, and in consequence I hardly know what subject was discussed,
or, at least, lacked energy to form a clear, conscious conception of
it. My thoughts were in Reinfeld and my heart full to overflowing of
care. I am submissive in all that may happen, but I cannot say that I
should be submissive with gladness. The chords of my soul become
relaxed and toneless when I think of all possibilities. I am not,
indeed, of that self-afflicting sort that carefully and artfully
destroys its own hope and constructs fear, and I do not believe that
it is God's will to separate us now--for every reason I cannot believe
it; but I know that you are suffering, and I am not with you, and yet
if I were there, I could perhaps contribute something to your
tranquillity, to your serenity, were it only that I should ride with
you--for you have no one else for that. It is so contrary to all my
views of gallantry, not to speak of my sentiments for you, that any
power whatever should keep me here when I know that you are suffering
and I could help and relieve you; and I am still at war with myself to
determine what my duty is before God and man. If I am not sooner
there, then it is fairly certain that I shall arrive in Reinfeld with
your father at Whitsuntide, probably a week from tomorrow. The cause
of your illness may lie deeper, or perhaps it is only that the odious
Spanish flies have affected you too powerfully. Who is this second
doctor you have called in? The frequent changing of doctors, and, on