unsigned note worded in a quaint blunt manner, insisted that it was to me
she looked. I chanced to hear the margravine, addressing Baroness
Turckems, say: 'The princess's betrothal,' what further, escaped me.
Soon after, I heard that Prince Otto was a visitor at the lake-palace.
My unknown correspondent plied me a third time.

I pasted the scrap in my neglected book of notes and reflections, where
it had ample space and about equal lucidity. It drew me to the book,
nearly driving me desperate; I was now credulous of anything, except that
the princess cared for help from me. I resolved to go home; I had no
longer any zeal for study. The desolation of the picture of England in
my mind grew congenial. It became imperative that I should go somewhere,
for news arrived of my father's approach with a French company of actors,
and deafening entertainments were at hand. On the whole, I thought it
decent to finish my course at the University, if I had not quite lost the
power of getting into the heart of books. One who studies is not being a
fool: that is an established truth. I thanked Dr. Julius for planting it
among my recollections. The bone and marrow of study form the surest
antidote to the madness of that light gambler, the heart, and distasteful
as books were, I had gained the habit of sitting down to them, which was
as good as an instinct toward the right medicine, if it would but work.

On an afternoon of great heat I rode out for a gaze at the lake-palace,
that I chose to fancy might be the last, foreseeing the possibility of
one of my fits of movement coming on me before sunset. My very pulses
throbbed 'away!' Transferring the sense of overwhelming heat to my moral
condition, I thought it the despair of silliness to stay baking in that
stagnant place, where the sky did nothing but shine, gave nothing forth.
The sky was bronze, a vast furnace dome. The folds of light and shadow
everywhere were satin-rich; shadows perforce of blackness had light in