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Published online by Cambridge University Press: 21 February 2024
Oh my, this holiday week! Thilde was hardly recognizable and seemed to have become quite the spendthrift.
“Hugo, this is our honeymoon, if I may use such a word that really doesn't fit our situation yet. But I will allow myself to do so. It is so lovely to have memories of such things, and I think it will be quite nice to be able to speak of such a time when we’re old. So everything must be like sunshine, and we should truly enjoy it.”
Hugo held Thilde's hand and said, “That's right, Thilde; I’m pleased to hear you say that. I thought you didn't have a real appreciation of such things, of joy, of that sweet idleness that is actually the best thing in life.”
Thilde did not think it wise to instruct him otherwise. She smiled pleasantly and remained silent, and Hugo continued: “I thought you were always thinking only of responsibility and order and keeping to a schedule—which, as much as I liked it, made me a bit anxious, since there can also be too much of a good thing. But now I see that I have a gay and cheerful bride. Yes, that is the most important thing for me. Now tell me, what shall we do today? Don't choose cautiously, and don't talk of money or modest circumstances. When you’re engaged, you shouldn't be anxious about anything. We should feel as though we had a magical table-be-set, as though we could have anything we wish.”
“Well then,” she replied, “we should go to the opera and sit in box seats; perhaps the Emperor will be sitting across from us.”
“Oh, Thilde, you shouldn't say such things. A bit of funning is good, it's becoming—but not like that. You’re being maddening again!”
“Well, then we’ll go to Kroll's and watch the Christmas pantomime.”
He agreed, delighted, but asked, “And your mother? Will we have to take her with us?”
“We will have to at least offer to do so. It may well be that she says no.
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