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Vienna, January 26, 1900
IX., Berggasse 19
Dear Wilhelm,
I assume that being preoccupied with three generations of blood relatives, you find little time to write and therefore I shall not wait any longer. In my case the dearth of material requiring communication runs counter to writing. The children either have measles or are about to come down with it. Martin is almost done with it; Ernst, like his predecessor, has had a sore throat with fever for three days; he is now merry and will be regarded as due in the next few days. To judge by her looks, Annerl will be the next one. Mathilde is staying with her grandmother so as not to have to miss school. Thus our lives are even more lonely than normal.
Nothing is happening, really. When I remind myself that I have had only one new case since May 1899, one you know, and that again I am to lose four patients between April and May, I am not exactly in a cheerful mood. How I shall manage I do not yet know, but I am determined to stick it out. My not wanting to complain is another reason for my writing less often. The book has not been mentioned since the review in the Zeit,1 which was lacking in understanding but unfortunately not in impertinent disrespect. For the summer we are again trying to get rooms at Bellevue in Grinzing; I have given up as hopeless the project of finding summer work.