questions of etiquette--that is my fixed resolve. You may be sure of
this, that I have long been helping you pray that the Lord may free
you from useless despondency and bestow upon you a heart cheerful and
submissive to God--and upon me, also; and I have the firm confidence
that He will grant our requests and guide us both in the paths that
lead to Him. Even though yours may often go to the left around the
mountain, and mine to the right, yet they will meet beyond.

The salt water has already gone from here. If you are too weak for
riding, then take a drive every day. When you are writing to me, and
begin to feel badly in the least, stop immediately; give me only a
short bulletin of your health, even if it is but three lines, for,
thank Heaven, words can be dispensed with between us--they cannot add
or take away anything, since our hearts look into each other, eye to
eye, to the very bottom, and though here and there, behind a fold,
some new thing is discovered, a strange thing it is not. Dear heart,
what stuff you talk (excuse my rudeness) when you say I must not come
if I would rather stop in Zimmerhausen or Angermünde at Whitsuntide!
How can I take pleasure anywhere while I know that you are suffering,
and moreover, am uncertain in what degree? With us two it is a
question, not of amusing and entertaining, but only of loving and
being together, spiritually, and, if possible, corporeally; and if you
should lie speechless for four weeks--sleep, or something else--I
would be nowhere else, provided nothing but my wish were to decide. If
I could only "come to your door," I would still rather be there than
with my dear sister; and the sadder and sicker you are, so much the
more. But the door will not separate me from you, however ill you may
be. That is a situation in which the slave mutinies against his
mistress. * * *