I have just returned from Gerolstein, where I passed three months with the
grand duke and his family. I expected to have found a letter announcing
your arrival at Oldenzaal, my dear Maximilian. Imagine my grief and
surprise, when I understood that you would be detained in Hungary several
weeks longer. I have not been able to write to you for four months, not
knowing how to direct my letters to you, thanks to your original and
adventurous manner of traveling; and yet you had, nevertheless, seriously
promised me at Vienna, at the moment of our separation, that you would be
at Oldenzaal the first of August. I must, then, renounce the pleasure of
seeing you; and never had I more desire to pour out my heart into yours, my
good Maximilian, my oldest friend; for though we are both still young, our
friendship is old--it dates from our infancy. What shall I say to you?
Within three months a great revolution has taken place in me. I have
reached one of those moments which decide a man's fate. Judge if I do not
want your presence, your advice. But you will not fail me much longer;
whatever concerns detain you in Hungary, you will come, Maximilian; you
must come, I conjure, for I shall, indeed, need the most earnest
consolation, and I cannot go to you. My father, whose health becomes more
and more feeble, has recalled me from Gerolstein. He grows weaker every
day. It is impossible for me to leave him.
Pages:
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493