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Vienna, June 18, 1900
IX., Berggasse 19
Dear Wilhelm,
My last letter dealt only with myself and now you force me to write about myself again, since you withhold more detailed information about your family from me. I have some notion of your difficulties with “Miss”;1 you say nothing about Conrad. So everything is left for August, when I shall most certainly speak with you, and I must once again write about myself, as though I were no longer interested in anything else.
After Ernst, who recovered quickly, the epidemic of throat infections claimed Martin, who today is beginning to totter about like a shadow. Mathilde seems to be next, but has no fever; the others are still blooming. Our stay at Bellevue naturally lacks everything that makes distance from the metropolis so delightful. There just is no such thing as a dry thaw.