Gertrude by Hermann Hesse Page A

during the next interval I said: “Teiser, where are you going this summer?”
    Thereupon he laughed bashfully and flushed as red as an engaged girl who is asked about her wedding day and said: “Dear me, that’s a long way off yet, but look, I have the tickets already.” He took them out of his waistcoat pocket. “This time I start from Bodensee; then the Rhine Valley, Fürstentum Liechtenstein, Chur, Albula, Upper Engadine, Maloja, Bergell and Lake Como. I don’t know about the return journey yet.”
    He picked up his violin and looked at me with pride and delight shining out of his blue-gray, childlike eyes, which seemed never to have seen any of the filth and sorrow in the world. I felt a sense of kinship with him and the way he looked forward to his long walking holiday, to freedom and carefree unity with sun, air and earth. In the same way I felt renewed pleasure at the thought of all the paths in my life which lay before me as if illumined by a brilliant new sun, and which I thought I could travel along steadily with bright eyes and a pure heart.
    Now, when I look back, it all seems very remote, but I am still conscious of some of the former light, even if it is not so dazzling. Even now, as in the past, it is a comfort to me in times of depression and disperses the dust from my soul when I pronounce the name Gertrude and think of how she came up to me in the music room of her father’s house, as lightly as a bird and as naturally as a friend.
    That day I visited Muoth, whom I had been avoiding as much as possible since Lottie’s painful confession. He had noticed it and was, I knew, too proud and too indifferent to do anything about it, so we had not been alone together for months. Now that I had renewed faith in life and was full of good intentions, it seemed very important to me to approach my neglected friend again. A new song that I had composed gave me an excuse for doing so. I decided to dedicate it to him. It was similar to the Avalanche Song, which he liked, and the words were as follows:
    The hour was late, I blew out my candle;
    By the open window I greeted the night.
    It embraced me gently, called me brother
    And promised me friendship in my sad plight.
    We were sick with the same yearning,
    Our dreams were gloomy and long,
    We whispered about the days of old
    When we were young and hope was strong.
    I made a copy of it and wrote above it: “Dedicated to my friend, Heinrich Muoth.”
    Then I went to see him at a time when I knew he would be at home. I heard him singing as he walked up and down rehearsing in his stately rooms. He received me coolly.
    â€œGood heavens, it’s Mr. Kuhn! I thought you would not come any more.”
    â€œWell,” I said, “here I am. How are you?”
    â€œThe same as ever. Good of you to come and see me again.”
    â€œYes, I haven’t been very loyal recently…”
    â€œIt has been very evident and I know why.”
    â€œI don’t think so.”
    â€œYes, I do. Lottie once went to see you, didn’t she?”
    â€œYes, but I don’t want to talk about it.”
    â€œIt isn’t at all necessary. Anyway, here you are again.”
    â€œI have brought something with me.” I gave him the music.
    â€œOh, a new song! That is good. I was afraid you might devote yourself solely to dreary string music. There’s a dedication on it already. What, to me! Do you mean it?”
    I was surprised that it seemed to give him so much pleasure. I had somehow expected a joke about the dedication.
    â€œOf course I am pleased,” he said sincerely. “I am always glad when worthwhile people think of me, and particularly you. I had really struck you off my list.”
    â€œHave you a list?”
    â€œOh yes, when one has or has had as many friends as I … I could make quite a catalogue. I have always thought most of the highly moral ones and those are always the ones who