Read Online Gertrude by Hermann Hesse - Free Book Online

yes, you can do all that. But you may think of another song like that one, which you can let me have. Will you?”
    â€œYes, of course, although I don’t know why you take such an interest in me.”
    â€œAre you afraid of me? I simply like your music. I should like to sing some more of your songs and look forward to doing so. It is pure egoism.”
    â€œAll right, but why did you talk to me as you did yesterday?”
    â€œOh, you are still offended! What did I really say? I no longer remember. Anyway, I didn’t intend to treat you roughly, as I seem to have done. But you can defend yourself! One talks, and every person is as he is and as he must be, and people have to accept each other.”
    â€œThat’s what I think, but you do just the opposite. You provoke me and do not accept what I say. You draw out of me things that I don’t want to think about myself and that are my affair, and throw them back in my face like a reproach. You even mock me about my leg.”
    Heinrich Muoth said slowly: “Well, well, people are different. One man is wild if you tell him the truth, and another can’t bear it if you spout platitudes. You were annoyed because I didn’t treat you with false respect and I was annoyed because you were on the defensive and tried to delude me with fine phrases about the solace of art.”
    â€œI meant what I said, only I am not used to talking about these things. And I won’t talk about the other matter either. How things seem to me, whether I am sad or in despair and how my leg came to be injured, I want to keep to myself, and I don’t want to let anyone drag them out of me and mock me about them.”
    He stood up. “I haven’t anything on yet. I’ll go and get dressed. You’re a good fellow. I’m not, I know. We won’t talk about it so much again. Hasn’t it occurred to you that I like you? Just wait a little. Sit down by the piano until I’m dressed. Do you sing?—No?—Well, I’ll only be a few minutes.”
    He soon returned dressed from the adjoining room.
    â€œWe’ll go into town now and have a meal,” he said lightly. He did not ask whether it suited me. He said, “We’ll go,” and we went. For however much his manner annoyed me, it impressed me; he was the stronger character of the two. At the same time, he displayed a whimsical, childlike disposition in his conversation and behavior which was often charming and which quite won me over.
    From that time I saw Muoth often. He frequently sent me tickets for the opera, sometimes invited me down to play the violin, and if I did not like everything about him, there were many things I could say to him without his taking offense. A friendship was established between us, at that time my only one, and I almost began to fear the time when he would no longer be there. He had in fact handed in his resignation and could not be pressed to stay, despite a number of requests and inducements. At times he hinted that there might be a part for him at a large theater in the autumn, but it was not yet arranged. In the meantime spring arrived.
    One day I went to Muoth’s house for the last gentlemen’s gathering. We drank to our next meeting and the future, and this time there was no woman present. Muoth accompanied us to the garden gate early in the morning. He waved us farewell and returned shivering in the morning mist to his already half-emptied rooms, accompanied by the leaping and barking dog. It seemed to me that a section of my life and experience had now ended. I felt I knew Muoth well enough to be sure that he would soon forget us all. Only now did I see clearly and unmistakably how much I had liked this moody, imperious man.
    The time for my departure had also arrived. I made my last visits to places and to people whom I would remember kindly. I also went once more up to the high road and looked down at the slope, which I would not