ow.
My, Wiesike, what a business we could build up here if we could only
start such a sanatorium! Friesack the spring of forgetfulness! Well,
let us try the Riviera for the present. Mentone is the Riviera, is it
not? To be sure, the price of grain is low just now, but what must be
must be. I shall talk with my wife about it."

That he did, and his wife consented immediately, influenced in part by
her own ardent desire to see the south, particularly since she had
felt like one retired from the world. But Effi would not listen to it.
"How good you are to me! And I am selfish enough to accept the
sacrifice, if I thought it would do any good. But I am certain it
would only harm me."

"You try to make yourself think that, Effi."

"No. I have become so irritable that everything annoys me. Not here at
home, for you humor me and clear everything out of my way. But when
traveling that is impossible, the disagreeable element cannot be
eliminated so easily. It begins with the conductor and ends with the
waiter. Even when I merely think of their self-satisfied countenances
my temperature runs right up. No, no, keep me here. I don't care to
leave Hohen-Cremmen any more; my place is here. The heliotrope around
the sundial is dearer to me than Mentone."

After this conversation the plan was dropped and in spite of the great
benefit Wiesike had expected from the Riviera he said: "We must
respect these wishes, for they are not mere whims. Such patients have
a very fine sense and know with remarkable certainty what is good for
them and what not. What Mrs. Effi has said about the conductor and the
waiter is really quite correct, and there is no air with healing power
enough to counterbalance hotel annoyances, if one is at all affected
by them. So let us keep her here. If that is not the best thing, it is
certainly not the worst."

This proved to be true. Effi got better, gained a little in weight
(old von Briest belonged to the weight fanatics), and lost much of her
irritability. But her need of fresh air kept growing steadily, and
even when the west wind blew and the sky was overcast with gray
clouds, she spent many hours out of doors. On such days she would
usually go out into the fields or the marsh, often as far as two
miles, and when she grew tired would sit down on the hurdle fence,
where, lost in dreams, she would watch the ranunculi and red sorrel
waving in the wind.

"You go out so much alone," said Mrs. von Briest. "Amon