1 0 4 V O L U M E 8 , D O C U M E N T 5 6 1 b
Margot really have to be operated just at that time? Why couldn’t the children go
along to Switzerland? It would certainly do everyone some good. What’s the news
on your divorce, by the
way?[7]
Paul and I are personally still very sorry, of course,
that you don’t want to
come.[8]
Think it over once more, both of you! There are
mountain spas where you could also go sailing.
Dear Albert, don’t worry in the least about our health. We had just as much
influenza[9]
in our first apartment; there were no mosquitoes there, and it wasn’t
damp. The Lucerne climate, with all that foehn, does not agree with either of us
particularly. Paul didn’t have the flu this winter, incidentally. He suffered from in-
somnia, and that is why he had to take a leave of absence for a longer period. He’s
in excellent health again now, though. He looks like an Indian again. Mosquitoes
don’t come into consideration anyway as the carriers of our influenza, since we
come down with it only in the winter when there aren’t any mosquito bites.
I’m enclosing for you the bill for the packets. I hope they have all arrived intact.
At the end of June I’m going to order another
one.[10]
Alice and Ogden are delighted with Freiburg—up to
now.[11]
Ogden just wants
to earn his doctorate as fast as possible—vanitatis causa—he doesn’t care about
anything
else.[12]
What was it that you read by Anatole
France?[13]
We also like him
very much. He’s an extremely fine and witty skeptic.
Mama will have departed in the
meantime.[14]
I hope she can come. We are living
in great isolation at the moment and are particularly receptive to visits. You should
take pity on us!
Now I’ve written you a good amount. Give my regards to all the Haberlanders
along with dependents, especially to Elsa and the
children.[15]
Continue to stay so
well, and beware of newspapers, which are more discouraging the longer they are.
Fond kisses, yours,
Maja.
Vol. 8, 561b. From Paul Winteler
[Lucerne, 10 June
1918][1]
Dear Albert,
What hopes you’ve dashed for us by imagining that your sickbed would be softer
anywhere else than with us and that, for various reasons, you would have to pitch
camp at Müggelsee instead of along the shores of Lake Silvaplana or
Oeschinensee.[2]
Even on the summit of Frutt, 1,800 m up, a quite acceptable little
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