Sigmund Friese,
shorter in stature, with a gentle, somewhat sensitive face, a short,
fair, curly beard, and hair aristocratically thin, which already
suggested a diplomatic bald head, was teaching mathematics in an
American university. Both were natives of South Germany, friends from
childhood, and had once plunged into the flood of life from the same
spot on the shore, but were afterward washed far apart.
After a long absence, Sigmund had come from Washington to Europe to
attend his sister's wedding, and availed himself of the opportunity, on
the way from Havre to Mannheim, to visit his friend Wolf in Paris. The
latter met him at the station and took him to his pleasant bachelor
lodgings in the Rue Notre Dame de Lorette. Now, scarcely an hour
later, the first overflow of mutual confidences had been exchanged, and
the friends were seated comfortably at dinner.
"Do you know that it is thirteen years since our last meeting?" asked
Wolf.
"Thirteen years!" sighed Sigmund. "How many more times shall we
experience such a period?"
"Never again," replied Wolf, "the period from the twenty-fourth to the
thirty-seventh year.
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