u have no reason
for being anything else. For you, life is like a long and pleasant day
spent in a hammock under a shady tree--your husband at the head and your
children at the foot of your couch.

You ought to have been a mother stork, dwelling in an old cart-wheel on
the roof of some peasant's cottage.

For you, life is fair and sweet, and all humanity angelic. Your
relations with the outer world are calm and equable, without temptation
to any passions but such as are perfectly legal. At eighty you will
still be the virtuous mate of your husband.

Don't you see that I envy you? Not on account of your husband--you may
keep him and welcome! Not on account of your lanky maypoles of
daughters--for I have not the least wish to be five times running a
mother-in-law, a fate which will probably overtake you. No! I envy your
superb balance and your imperturbable joy in life.

I am out of sorts to-day. We have dined out twice running, and you know
I cannot endure too much light and racket.

We shall meet no more, you and I. How strange it will seem. We had so
much in common besides our portly dressmaker and our masseuse with her
shiny, greasy hands! Well, anyhow, let us be thankful to the masseuse
for our slender hips.

I shall miss you. Wherever you were, the atmosphere was cordial. Even on
the summit of the Blocksberg, the chillest, barest spot on earth, you
would impart some warmth.

Lillie Rothe, dear cousin, do not have a fit on reading my news:
_Richard and I are going to be divorced_.

Or rather, we _are_ divorced.

Thanks to the kindly intervention of the Minister of Justice, the affair
was managed quickly and without fuss, as you see. After twenty-two years
of married life, almost as exemplary as your own, we are going our
separate ways.

You are crying, Lillie, because you are such a kind, heaven-sent,
tender-hearted creature. But spare your tears. You are really fond of
me, and when I tell you that all has happened for the best, you will
believe me, and dry your eyes.

There is no special reason for our divorce. None at least that is
palpable, or explicable, to the world. As far as I know, Richard has no
entanglements; and I have no lover. Neither have we lost our wits, nor
become religious maniacs. There is no shadow of scandal connected with
our separation beyond that which must inevitably arise when two
middle-aged partners throw down the cards in the middle of the rubber.

It has cost my vanity a