instant my horse was saddled; and I hurried away in mad vexation, galloping toward Drusenheim, then through that place, and still farther on.
Now, thinking myself in safety, I rode more slowly, and now first felt how infinitely against my will I was going away. But I resigned myself to my fate, made present to my mind the promenade of yesterday evening with the greatest calmness, and cherished the secret hope of seeing her soon again. But this quiet feeling soon changed again to impatience; and I now determined to ride rapidly into the city, change my dress, take a good, fresh horse, since then, as my passion made me believe, I could at all events return before dinner, or, as was more probable, for dessert, or toward evening, and beg my forgiveness.
I was just about to put spurs to my horse to execute this plan, when another, and, as seemed to me, very happy thought, passed through my mind. In the tavern at Drusenheim, the day before, I had noticed a son of the landlord very nicely dressed, who, early this morning, being busied about his rural arrangements, had saluted me from his courtyard. He was of my figure, and had for the moment reminded me of myself. No sooner thought than done! My horse was hardly turned round, when I found myself in Drusenheim: I brought him into the stable, and in a few words made the fellow my proposal, namely, that he should lend me his clothes, as I had something merry on foot at Sesenheim. I had no need to talk long: he agreed to the proposition with joy, and praised me for wishing to make some sport for the Mamsells; they were, he said, such capital people, especially Mamselle Reikchen;[1] and the parents, too, liked to see everything go on merrily and pleasantly. He looked at me attentively; and as from my appearance he might have taken me for a poor starveling, he said,
- ↑ Abbreviation for Frederica.—Trans.
