"
"Ah, Sigmund, life is a cruel extinguisher of lights."
"Certainly, but there are flames which life does not extinguish. Only
death----"
A few months had passed since the meeting of the two friends. Sigmund
Friese was again in Washington, teaching mathematics, when one day he
received the following letter from Wolf Breuning.
"DEAREST SIGMUND:--
"What wonderful things chance can bring to pass in the capital! I am
writing to you under the fresh impression of the incident. You will
open your eyes! I was walking through the Rue Rochechouart about two
o'clock this afternoon when an elegantly dressed lady, coming from the
opposite direction, suddenly stopped just in front of me. As I was
absorbed in thought, at first I took no notice but passed on. After a
few steps the fleeting perception became a distinct consciousness, and
I involuntarily turned. There the lady still stood, as if rooted to
the spot, looking after me. I went back somewhat hesitatingly, though
curious, she hastily advanced to meet me and, ere I could distinguish
her features through the thick veil, she cried in a stifled voice: 'I
was not mistaken! It is really you! What good luck! What good luck!'
As she spoke she stretched out both hands, clasped mine, pressed them,
and continued to hold them.
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