But then, you know,
Geert is one of the councillors."
"Read, read."
"Dear Effi: The nearer we come to our wedding day, the more scanty
your letters grow. When the mail arrives I always look first of all
for your handwriting, but, as you know, all in vain, as a rule, and
yet I did not ask to have it otherwise. The workmen are now in the
house who are to prepare the rooms, few in number, to be sure, for
your coming. The best part of the work will doubtless not be done till
we are on our journey. Paper-hanger Madelung, who is to furnish
everything, is an odd original. I shall tell you about him the next
time. Now I must tell you first of all how happy I am over you, over
my sweet little Effi. The very ground beneath my feet here is on fire,
and yet our good city is growing more and more quiet and lonesome. The
last summer guest left yesterday. Toward the end he went swimming at
nine degrees above zero (Centigrade), and the attendants were always
rejoiced when he came out alive. For they feared a stroke of apoplexy,
which would give the baths a bad reputation, as though the water were
worse here than elsewhere. I rejoice when I think that in four weeks I
shall row with you from the Piazzetta out to the Lido or to Murano,
where they make glass beads and beautiful jewelry. And the most
beautiful shall be yours. Many greetings to your parents and the
tenderest kiss for yourself from your Geert."
Effi folded the letter and put it back into the envelope.
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