m. We human
beings are impudent enough to judge everything by the standard of our
own taste, and yet Mistress Frog will, very justly, find no music so
sweet to her ears as the song of Master Frog.

"I feel so grateful, dear Emma, that I can write everything to you. You
cannot imagine what a relief it is to me.

"I am a spy on my own heart; there are many wild spirits in
it--adventurers and fortune-hunters and, with them all, a nun. I am
quite curious to know how so mixed a company will get on together.

"My behavior toward the whole court is so free and independent, because
I have a secret daily task: writing to you.

"But my thoughts go out to you a thousand times oftener:

There's not an hour in the silent night.
But what my thoughts go out to thee.

"Do you remember it? It was your favorite song. I sing it, for your
sake, at least once every day. You and my piano are all in all to me.
You patiently await my coming. All the music of all the masters that
ever were. Or ever will be, dwells within you, and you only await the
coming of the one whose touch can release those tones.

"I have a dual soul. In its one phase, the piano--in its other, the
zither. The one is easily moved from place to place; the other not. The
one requires that the fingers touch the strings. But ah, dear Emma, I
scarce know what I am writing. I wish I could get rid of the habit of
thinking. I wish I were Zenza's daughter and the poacher were my
brother. But no; our thieves and rogues who have been at school long
enough to know the seven cardinal sins and the whole of the catechism
by heart, are timid and cowardly; they drop the petition for pardon
into their mother's lap, while they stand by whining: Forgive us, we
have done nothing wrong. All the world over, there is no longer genuine
scorn of nature. Methinks the 'Italian robber behind the rock' that you
once worked in wools, has, in these days, ceased to be more than a
traditional pattern for embroidery. The arts simply serve to gloss over
life.

"Good-night--good-night."

"_A day later_,

"I never read what I have once written. I do not care to be reminded of
it again. Yesterday's sun does not shine to-day.--But that was not what
I meant. The sun is the same, but the light is ever new, and I am happy
to-day and do not care for all the churches and palaces, men and women,
frogs and crocodiles in the world.