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Updated: May 17, 2025
If I said Louise was a baggage, or a minx, or some other horrid thing, you would always bear me a grudge for it, so please note, I don't say it for we are going to be friends, I hope?" "I hope so, too," said the young man. They walked some distance along the unfinished end of the MOZARTSTRASSE, where only a few villas stood, in newly made gardens.
But a painful impression of the previous evening lingered in his mind. Louise would be annoyed with him for keeping her waiting; and he shrank, in advance, from the thought of another disagreeable scene. He was not in the mood to-night, to soothe and console. As he entered the MOZARTSTRASSE, he saw that there was a light in Madeleine's window. She was at home, then.
He stood irresolute, at the crossing where the MOZARTSTRASSE joined the PROMENADE. A lamp-lighter was beginning his rounds; he came up with his long pole to the lamp at the corner, and, with a mild explosion, the little flame sprang into life. Maurice turned on his heel and went to see Madeleine.
One afternoon, towards six o'clock, he rang the bell of her lodgings in the MOZARTSTRASSE. This was a new street, the first blocks of which gave directly on the Gewandhaus square; but, at the further end, where she lived, a phalanx of redbrick and stucco fronts looked primly across at a similar line.
Maurice was nothing loath to have the meeting with her over, and so, though it was not quite three o'clock, they went together to the MOZARTSTRASSE. They found Madeleine before her writing-table, which was strewn with closely written sheets.
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