servant to-bed, sat down in her "inspiration corner," as Edwin
called one end of the sofa (the little lamp burned brightly on the
table before her, illuminating the profile of Demosthenes on the
bookcase, the writing desk so long without a master, and all the other
witnesses of their bright young happiness) for the first time she was
overpowered by the consciousness that many things would soon be
changed, that when the young life under her heart looked forth into the
world with two bright eyes and gave utterance to its joys and sorrows,
this room, where silent thoughts and lovely flowers peacefully unfolded
side by side, could no longer be her one and all. She thought of the
words with which Edwin had tried to console his childless wife, how he
had said that two people in their situation lived in a state of
perpetual betrothal, and that any third person, even were it their own
child, at first came between them like a stranger. "No," she said to
herself, "it's a part of ourselves too, it's only like a mirror,
wherein we see both our faces melted into one. Besides, he didn't mean
it seriously, it was only before he knew--"

She now became absorbed in thinking how everything would be, how she
would manage to always remain near Edwin, without disturbing him by the
little sprawling screaming creature, and whenever she thought with
secret terror of the two unruly black haired twins, from whom no corner
of her friend's large house was secure, she consoled herself with the
memory of quiet, fair-haired little Riekchen, beside whom one might
solve the most difficult mathematical problems undisturbed. It would
have fair hair, she thought, smiling in blissful anticipation, it must
resemble Edwin feature for feature, possess the same beautiful blue
eyes, the same grave brow. Now her thoughts wandered from the little
stranger to him whom she knew as well, nay better than herself, and as
with all the powers of her soul she conjured up his image to the
smallest detail, a passionate longing suddenly overpowered her, a
painful sense of loneliness, mingled with such an enthusiastic
admiration of the beloved, that she started up and paced to and fro in
a sort of ecstacy, connecting his name with loving, tender words, such
as she had never addressed to him in person. She suddenly thought it a
sin that when he was with her, she had maintained such a strange
reserve, and never allowed herself to frankly show him the inmost
depths of her heart