ght eyes as she was wont when I
appeared among you. Alas, how could I write to you in the distracted
mood which has hitherto disturbed my every thought! Something horrible
has crossed my path of life. Dark forebodings of a cruel, threatening,
fate spread themselves over me like dark clouds, which no friendly
sunbeam can penetrate. Now will I tell you what has befallen me. I
must do so, that I plainly see--but if I only think of it, it will
laugh out of me like mad. Ah, my dear Lothaire, how shall I begin it?
How shall I make you in any way sensible that that which occurred to me
a few days ago could really have such a fatal effect on my life? If
you were here you could see for yourself, but now you will certainly
take me for a crazy ghost-seer. In a word, the horrible thing which
happened to me, and the painful impression of which I in vain endeavour
to escape, is nothing more than this; that some days ago, namely on the
30th of October, at twelve o'clock at noon, a barometer-dealer came
into my room and offered me his wares. I bought nothing, and
threatened to throw him down stairs, upon which he took himself off of
his own accord.

You suspect that only relations of the most peculiar kind, and exerting
the greatest influence over my life can give any import to this
occurrence, nay, that the person of that unlucky dealer must have a
hostile effect upon me. So it is, indeed. I collect myself with all
my might, that patiently and quietly I may tell you so much of my early
youth as will bring all plainly and clearly in bright images before
your active mind. As I am about to begin I fancy that I hear you
laughing and Clara saying: "Childish stories indeed!" Laugh at me I
beseech you, laugh with all your heart. But, heavens, my hair stands
on end, and it seems as if I am asking you to laugh at me, in mad
despair, as Franz Moor asked Daniel.[1] But to my story.

Excepting at dinner time I and my brothers and sisters saw my father
very little during the day. He was, perhaps, busily engaged at his
ordinary occupation. After supper, which, according to the old custom
was served up at seven o'clock, we all went with my mother into my
father's work-room, and seated ourselves at the round table. My father
smoked tobacco and drank a large glass of beer. Often he told us a
number of wonderful stories, and grew so warm over them that his pipe
continually went out. I had to light it again, with burning paper,
whi