n't teach me any more if I don't go. He was quite angry
at last when I begged, and said it wouldn't be worth his while to go on
teaching any one so stale with over-practising when they weren't fit to
practise, and that if I didn't stop, all I'd ever be able to do would
be to play in the second row of violins--(not even the first!)--at a
pantomime. That shrivelled me up into silence. Horror-stricken
silence. Then he got kind again, and said I had this precious
gift--God, he said, alone knew why I had got it, I a woman; what, he
asked, staring prawnishly, is the good of a woman's having such a
stroke of luck?--and that it was a great responsibility, and I wasn't
to suppose it was my gift only, to spoil and mess up as I chose, but
that it belonged to the world. When he said that, cold shivers
trickled down my spine. He looked so solemn, and he made me feel so
solemn, as though I were being turned, like Wordsworth in The Prelude,
into a dedicated spirit.

But I expect he is right, and it is time I went where it is cooler for
a little while. I've been getting steadily angrier at nothing all the
week, and more and more fretted by the flies, and one day--would you
believe it--I actually sat down and cried with irritation because of
those silly flies. I've had to promise not to touch a fiddle for the
first week I'm away, and during the second week not to work more than
two hours a day, and then I may come back if I feel quite well again.
He says he'll be at Heringsdorf, which is a seaside place not very far
away from where I shall be, for ten days himself, and will come over
and see if I'm being good. He says the Koseritz's country place isn't
far from where I shall be, so I shan't feel as if I didn't know a soul
anywhere. The Koseritz party at which I was to play never came off. I
was glad of that. I didn't a bit want to play at it, or bother about
it, or anything else. The hot weather drove the Grafin into the
country, Herr von Inster told me, He too seems to think I ought to go
away. I saw him this afternoon after being with Kloster, and he says
he'll go down to his aunt's--that is Grafin Koseritz--while I'm in the
neighbourhood, and will ride over and see me. I'm sure you'd like him
very much. My address will be:

_bei Herrn Oberforster Bornsted
Schuppenfelde
Reg. Bez. Stettin_.

I don't know what Reg. Bez. means. I've copied it from a card Kloster
gave me, and I expect you had better put it