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Vienna, Sunday
August 17, 1884
My girl
That was sweet of you; what a lovely scent these flowers have, what memories they evoke! They lift me out of all the litter of my bookish, bachelor life! And at the same time warn me that summer is coming to an end and that we will have to hurry if we are to enjoy the autumn. And this I will certainly take to heart and nothing is going to stop me. Roughly another two weeks! A week from today the chief1 is coming back, and the price I shall have to pay to return to you and come to my senses depends on his mood. No price will seem too high. I have changed more than I myself realized. Today four young hospital colleagues insisted on my joining them on an excursion to Dornbach.2 On our way back we stopped at the same inn where you and I once spent a quiet evening. I felt very out of place; I think I can feel happy nowadays only in your presence, and I cannot imagine that I shall ever be able to enjoy myself again without you. With the exception of the minutes brightened by your letters, I have experienced during the past fourteen months only three or four happy days-when some minor piece of work of mine happened to succeed. And that is too little for a human being who is still young and yet has never felt young. And because I know it is only your going away that has hurt me so much, I feel incapable of reconciling myself to her whose heartlessness and caprice I hold responsible for your departure. And this is something you will have understood long ago, my darling.
But only another two weeks after all; I will manage to doze