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  • She stops over in Vienna for a day to go shopping, and particularly to buy
  • series of luxurious gowns. She continues to treat me as her servant. I follow
  • her at the respectful distance of ten paces. She hands me her packages without
  • so much as even deigning a kind look, and laden down like a donkey I pant
  • along behind.
  • Before leaving she takes all my clothes and gives them to the hotel waiters. I
  • am ordered to put on her livery. It is a Cracovian costume in her colors,
  • light-blue with red facings, and red quadrangular cap, ornamented with
  • peacock-feathers. The costume is rather becoming to me.
  • The silver buttons bear her coat of arms. I have the feeling of having been
  • sold or of having bonded myself to the devil. My fair demon leads me from
  • Vienna to Florence. Instead of linen-garbed Mazovians and greasy-haired Jews,
  • my companions now are curly- haired Contadini, a magnificent sergeant of the
  • first Italian Grenadiers, and a poor German painter. The tobacco smoke no
  • longer smells of onions, but of salami and cheese.
  • Night has fallen again. I lie on my wooden bed as on a rack; my arms and legs
  • seem broken. But there nevertheless is an element of poetry in the affair. The
  • stars sparkle round about, the Italian sergeant has a face like Apollo
  • Belvedere, and the German painter sings a lovely German song.
  • {verse
  • "Now that all the shadows gather
  • And endless stars grow light,
  • Deep yearning on me falls
  • And softly fills the night."
  • "Through the sea of dreams
  • Sailing without cease,
  • Sailing goes my soul
  • In thine to find release."
  • {verse
  • And I am thinking of the beautiful woman who is sleeping in regal comfort
  • among her soft furs.