Imagine, my friend, what I then set about? O my dear Chamisso! even to
thee I blush to mention what follows.

I drew the ill-fated purse from my bosom; and, in a sort of frenzy that
raged like a self-fed fire within me, I took out gold--gold--gold--more
and more, till I strewed it on the floor, trampled upon it, and feasting
on its very sound and brilliancy, added coins to coins, rolling and
revelling on the gorgeous bed, until I sank exhausted.

Thus passed away that day and evening; and as my door remained locked,
night found me still lying on the gold, where, at last, sleep
overpowered me.

Then I dreamed of thee, and fancied I stood behind the glass door of thy
little room, and saw thee seated at thy table between a skeleton and a
bunch of dried plants; before thee lay open the works of Haller,
Humboldt, and Linnaeus; on thy sofa a volume of Goethe, and the
Enchanted Ring. I stood a long time contemplating thee, and everything
in thy apartment; and again turning my gaze upon thee, I perceived that
thou wast motionless--thou didst not breathe--thou wast dead.

I awoke--it seemed yet early--my watch had stopped. I felt thirsty,
faint, and worn out; for since the preceding morning I had not tasted
food. I now cast from me, with loathing and disgust, the very gold with
which but a short time before I had satiated my foolish heart. Now I
knew not where to put it--I dared not leave it lying there. I examined
my purse to see if it would hold it,-- impossible! Neither of my windows
opened on the sea. I had no other resource but, with toil and great
fatigue, to drag it to a huge chest which stood in a closet in my room;