and have never been able to get further with the letter. Very likely I shall remain here two days longer, and I shall lose nothing by doing so, for I have never yet found the old man so cheerful and amiable as now, nor so sympathetic and full of talk. But the real reason for my stopping is a fine one, and makes me almost vain, I should rather say, proud; I will not conceal it from you. Goethe sent me yesterday a letter addressed to a painter here, which I was to deliver myself, and Ottilie told me in confidence it contained a commission to paint my portrait, which Goethe wished to add to a collection of portraits of his acquaintance which he has long been making. The thing rejoiced my heart (almost in the Biblical sense); but as I have not yet encountered my kindly painter, nor he me, it is clear that I must stop till the day after to-morrow; I don’t regret it, as I said before, for I am having a glorious time here, and feel such delight in being near my old hero. I have dined with him every day till now, and my presence is required again to-morrow morning. This evening he gives a party, at which I am to play; he talks about everything, asks questions about everything; it is a delight to hear him. But now I must give you a reasonable and orderly account of my proceedings, so that you may know all I have to tell.
The first morning I went to visit Ottilie, whom I found indeed still in weak health, and complaining sometimes, but just as amiable and charming to me as ever. We have been together almost perpetu-
