DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.51520#0013
out for your walk ; you must keep in health
for she is coming next morning at ten
o’clock. We all know your favourite shops—
the one in Portland Street and another
one at the end of the Bayswater Road
towards Kensington. In that street—was
it in the third turning to the right, down the
alley on the left, in the vegetable shop, that
you discovered the Battersea candlesticks, those
with green at the base ? You don’t care for
Battersea candlesticks unless they have green
at the base. Now, tell me—how forgetful
one is even about things that one would
cherish in memory !—I have forgotten the
name of the street—wasn’t it somewhere in
Camden Town that you picked up from a
stall a picture which I agreed with you was
painted by Le Nain ? Do I not remember
asking you and getting the address from you
of the shop in which you bought the excellent
port wine which we drank and the cigars
which we smoked last summer ? You were
somewhat unwilling at first to confess the
name of the shop, but I induced you to tell me,
and with a laugh you admitted that you had
bought them in an old furniture shop. By some
curious instinct you had divined the fact that
the furniture-dealer had accepted the cigars
and the wine in lieu of a bad debt. How
you discover these things no one knows, nor
can you tell: the secret is as incommunicable
as that of your beautiful painting.
My dear friend, forgive me for writing about •
for she is coming next morning at ten
o’clock. We all know your favourite shops—
the one in Portland Street and another
one at the end of the Bayswater Road
towards Kensington. In that street—was
it in the third turning to the right, down the
alley on the left, in the vegetable shop, that
you discovered the Battersea candlesticks, those
with green at the base ? You don’t care for
Battersea candlesticks unless they have green
at the base. Now, tell me—how forgetful
one is even about things that one would
cherish in memory !—I have forgotten the
name of the street—wasn’t it somewhere in
Camden Town that you picked up from a
stall a picture which I agreed with you was
painted by Le Nain ? Do I not remember
asking you and getting the address from you
of the shop in which you bought the excellent
port wine which we drank and the cigars
which we smoked last summer ? You were
somewhat unwilling at first to confess the
name of the shop, but I induced you to tell me,
and with a laugh you admitted that you had
bought them in an old furniture shop. By some
curious instinct you had divined the fact that
the furniture-dealer had accepted the cigars
and the wine in lieu of a bad debt. How
you discover these things no one knows, nor
can you tell: the secret is as incommunicable
as that of your beautiful painting.
My dear friend, forgive me for writing about •