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Translator Louise von Cossel is or might still be alive.
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the letter with me and try to drop it in his
reception room. That is all I can do to make your
name famous.’
When we met again in autumn, we undertook
the definite re-casting of our double drama; but
the joy, the enthusiasm, the illusions were gone
and this last correction was quite mechanical.
Already in November, the printing began, and
at the same time it was submitted to the
manager of the theatre. Proof-reading took up the
last part of the autumn. Towards Christmas
the work was published. The critics
condemned it, and shortly after it was rejected by
the theatre.
Sonia did not take the thing very much to
heart. In fact, we had both become rather
indifferent to the work. We quite sympathised
in loving only the unborn generations, and in
dreaming of other works of which we hoped
greater success. There was this difference,
however, that Sonia kept clinging to the idea of
collaboration, whilst I had abandoned it long
ago, though I dared not tell her so. And, who
knows, perhaps it was this wish of reconquering
myself, of recovering my independence of
thought and feeling, which ripened my
resolution to go to Italy that winter. This journey
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