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Vienna, Saturday
September 8, 1883
My precious Marty
What can it be that you want and do not dare to mention? I am so filled with curiosity, especially since Schoönberg tells me there is something similar on his horizon. What on earth can it be, then? A tooth out of the Caliph's jaw, a jewel from Queen Victoria's crown, a giant's autograph, or something equally fantastic which would mean putting on my armor at once and setting out for the Orient?
Or is my sweetheart's desire nearer home; could it possibly be a deed of self-conquest? Am I to fast at Yom Kippur or reconcile myself to someone I don't like? Surely not. My Marty would not abuse her power and persuade me to actions that lack sense as well as honesty. I hope she wants something for herself and I hope I can catch it and give it her….
My greatest concern at the moment is to get Schoönberg away for the winter;1 one of his brothers is making difficulties; I am waiting for the arrival of the other to see what I can do; there's even a vague possibility of his going to the Riviera as a tutor independent of the brothers. But I think I might be able to do something with the brothers. Your confession about your reading, princess, amused me greatly. It seems as though you don't quite want to bite-like the peasant in the old proverb: “What he doesn't know he won't eat.”
But do finish Don Quixote; the second part contains many fewer of the shocking qualities than the first and is far more fantastic. I also quite agree that in winter, or when the weather begins to get bad, you should write only every other day, so as to get some exercise; after all, I am sure of you and think of you with gay and unclouded happiness. But Marty, you will then have to write a little more every other day, otherwise I might develop an uncontrollable hunger for news of you.