The time, as I told you, was golden twilight,
and little birds were twittering and chirping around the casement, and
I thought how he might have sat there, in some golden evening, sad and
dreamy, hearing the birds chirp, and wondering why he alone of all
creation should be so sad. I have not a doubt he has done that very
thing in this very spot.
JOURNAL--(CONTINUED.)
Monday, August 15. From Eisenach, where we dined cozily in the
railroad station house, we took the cars for Cassel. After we had
established ourselves comfortably in a _nich rauchen_ car, a
gentleman, followed by a friend, came to the door with a cigar in his
mouth. Seeing ladies, he inquired if he could smoke. Comprehending his
look and gesture, we said, "No." But as we spoke very gently, he
misunderstood us, and entered. Seeing by our looks that something was
amiss, he repeated the question more emphatically in German: "Can I
smoke? Yes, or no." "No," we answered in full chorus. Discomfited, he
retired with rather a flushed cheek. We saw him prospecting up and
down the train, hunting for a seat, followed by his _fidus
Achates_. Finally, a guard took him in tow, and after navigating a
while brought him to our door; but the gentleman recoiled, said
something in German, and passed on.
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