ear.

"Not here, Wilhelm," she said quickly, "not here. You do not know my
parents well enough yet. Wait till we are in Berlin."

"I will do as you like," sighed he, and took leave of her with an
eloquent glance, as they reached the hotel.

On this evening a quantity of curious things happened, which Wilhelm
so far had not observed in spite of his studies in natural science.
He could not touch his dinner, and Herr and Frau Ellrich's voices,
against all the laws of acoustics, seemed to come from the far
distance, and several minutes elapsed before the sounds reached his
ears, although he sat close to the speakers. The waiters and hotel
guests looked odd, and seemed to swim in a kind of rosy twilight. In
the sky there seemed to be three times as many stars as usual. When
the Ellrichs had withdrawn he went toward midnight alone into the
fir woods, and heard unknown birds sing, caught strange and magic
harmonies in the rustling of the branches, and felt as if he walked
on air. He went to bed in the gray of early dawn, after writing from
his overflowing heart the following letter to his friend Haber in
Berlin:

"MY DEAREST PAUL: I am happy as I never thought of being happy. I
love an unspeakably beautiful sweet brown maiden, and I really think
she loves me too. Do not ask me to describe her. No words or brush
could do it. You will see her and worship her. Oh, Paul, I could
shout and jump or cry like a child. It is too foolish, and yet so
unspeakably splendid, I can hardly understand how the dull, stupid
people in this house can sleep so indifferently while she is under