smart and correct
and wooden that I wondered why he was there till he began to play, and
then I knew; and as soon as I started I forgot the people sitting round
so close to me, so awkwardly and embarrassingly near. The Strad
fascinated me. It seemed to be playing by itself, singing to me,
telling me strange and beautiful secrets. I stood there just listening
to it.

They were all very kind and enthusiastic, and talked eagerly to each
other of a new star, a _trouvaille_. Think of your Chris, only the
other day being put in a corner by you in just expiation of her
offensiveness--it really feels as if it were yesterday--think of her
being a new, or anything else, star! But I won't be too proud, because
people are always easily kind after supper, and besides they had been
greatly stirred all the evening at the concert by Kloster's playing.
He was pleased too, and said some encouraging and delightful things.
The Junker lady was very kind, and asked me to lunch with her, and I'm
going tomorrow. The young man who played the accompaniment bowed,
clicked his heels together, caught up my hand, and kissed it. He
didn't say anything. Kloster says he is passionately devoted to music,
and so good at it that he would easily have been a first-rate musician
if he hadn't happened to have been born a Junker, and therefore has to
be an officer. It's a tragedy, apparently, for Kloster says he hates
soldiering, and is ill if he is kept away long from music. He went
away soon after that.

Grafin Koseritz brought me back in her car and dropped me at Frau
Berg's on her way home. She lives in the Sommerstrasse, next to the
Brandenburger Thor, so she isn't very far from me. She shuddered when
she looked up at Frau Berg's house. It did look very dismal.

_Bedtime_.

I'm so sleepy, precious mother, so sleepy that I must go straight to
bed. I can't hold my head up or my eyes open. I think it's the
weather--it was very hot today. Good night and bless you, my sweetest
mother.

Your own Chris who loves you.

_Berlin, Sunday, June 28th. Evening_.

Beloved little mother,

I didn't write this morning, but went for a whole day into the woods,
because it was such a hot day and I longed to get away from Berlin.
I've been wandering about Potsdam. It is only half an hour away in the
train, and is full of woods and stretches of water, as well as palaces.
Palaces weren't the mood I was in. I wanted to walk and walk, an