spirit that we are blossoms of
one plant, or petals of one flower. We shall then know with a smile
that what we now call merely hope was really memory.

Do you know how the first seed of this idea germinated in my soul
before you and took root in yours? Thus does the religion of love
weave our love ever and ever more closely and firmly together, just as
a child, like an echo, doubles the happiness of its gentle parents.

Nothing can part us; and certainly any separation would only draw me
more powerfully to you. I bethink me how at our last embrace, you
vehemently resisting, I burst into simultaneous tears and laughter. I
tried to calm myself, and in a sort of bewilderment I would not
believe that I was separated from you until the surrounding objects
convinced me of it against my will. But then my longing grew again
irresistible, until on its wings I sank back into your arms. Suppose
words or a human being to create a misunderstanding between us! The
poignant grief would be transient and quickly resolve itself into
complete harmony. How could separation separate us, when presence
itself is to us, as it were, too present? We have to cool and mitigate
the consuming fire with jests, and thus for us the most witty of the
forms and situations of joy is also the most beautiful. One among all
is at once the wittiest and the loveliest: when we exchange roles and
with childish delight try to see who can best imitate the other;
whether you succeed best with the tender vehemence of a man, or I with
the yielding devotion of a woman. But, do you know, this sweet game
has for me quite other charms than its own. It is not merely the
delight of exhaustion or the anticipation of revenge. I see in it a
wonderful and profoundly significant allegory of the development of
man and woman into complete humanity. * * *

* * * * *

That was my dithyrambic fantasy on the loveliest situation in the
loveliest of worlds. I know right well what you thought of it and how
you took it at that time. And I think I know just as well what you
will think of it and how you will take it here, here in this little
book, in which you expect to find genuine history, plain truth and
calm reason; yes, even morality, the charming morality of love. "How
can a man wish to write anything which it is scarcely permissible to
talk about, which ought only to be felt?" I replied: "If a man feels
it, he must wish to talk about it, and what