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Updated: May 25, 2025
Maurice took a glad advantage of her willingness to please him, and they had several pleasant walks together: to Napoleon's battlefields; along the GRUNE GASSE and the POETENWEG to Schiller's house at Gohlis; and into the heart of the ROSENTAL DAS WILDE ROSENTAL where it was very solitary, and where the great trees seemed to stagger under their load of stained leaves.
In the ROSENTAL, it was no better; the paths were so soaked that they squashed under her feet; on both sides, lay layers of rotten leaves from the autumn; the trees were only a net-work of blackened twigs, their trunks surrounded by an undergrowth that was as ragged as unkempt hair. And everything was mouldering: the smell of moist, earthy decay reminded her of open graves.
The wind was hardly more than a breath, which curled the tips of thin branches, and fluttered the loose ends of veils and laces. In the ROSENTAL, where the meadow-slopes were emerald-green, and each branch bore its complement of delicately curled leaves, the paths were so crowded that there could be no question of a connected conversation. But again, Louise was not in a hurry to begin.
In the street again, she said she was hungry, and, glad to be able to add his mite to her pleasure, he took her by the arm and steered her to the CAFE FRANCAIS, where they had coffee and ices. The church-steeples were booming eleven when they emerged; it did not seem worth while going home and settling down to work. Instead, they went to the ROSENTAL.
"But she'll have to buy another piano, and she might have kept the one I gave her. It is extraordinary how religion hardens the heart, Harding. Do you see that fellow, a great nose, lumpy shoulders, trousers too short for him, a Hebrew barrel of grease Rosental. You know him; I bought that clock from him.
"He wants to speak to her; and she knows it; and is trying to avoid it," said Johanna to herself; and her heart beat fast for both of them. But she was alone with Maurice; she must not lose the chance of sounding him a little. "Where do you think of going for a walk?" she asked, and her voice had an odd tone to her ears. "Where? Oh, to the ROSENTAL or the SCHEIBENHOLZ or along the river. Anywhere.
Oh, it was cruel of you!" and wept afresh. Word by word, Maurice drew her story from her. There was not very much to tell. She had gone out, and had walked hurriedly along quiet by-streets to the ROSENTAL. But before she had advanced a hundred yards, her courage began to fail, and the further she went, the more her spirits sank.
Another day, when they were walking in the ROSENTAL, she made him extremely unhappy by disagreeing with him. "If one could just take a sponge and wipe the past out, like figures from a slate!" he said moodily. But, jaded by his persistency, Louise would not admit it. "We should have nothing to remember." "That's just it." "But it belongs to us!"
Meanwhile, as Madeleine sat thinking these and similar things, Maurice was tramping through the ROSENTAL. The May afternoon, of lucent sunshine and heaped, fleecy clouds, had tempted a host of people into the great park, but he soon left them all behind him, for he walked as though he were pursued.
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