February 18, 1935

Yesterday he came quite unexpectedly, and we had a delightful evening.

The nicest thing is that he is thinking of taking me away from the shop and - but I had better not get too excited about it yet - he may give me a little house. I simply mustn't let myself think about it. It would be marvellous. I wouldn't have to open the door to our "beloved customers," and go on being a shop assistant. Dear God, grant that this may really happen not in some distant future, but soon.

Poor Charly is ill and won't be able to come with me to Berlin. But perhaps that's for the best after all. He can be very rude to her sometimes, and that would make her even more unhappy.

I am so infinitely happy that he loves me so much, and I pray that it will always be like this. It won't be my fault if he ever stops loving me.

I am terribly unhappy that I can't write to him. These notes must serve as the receptacle for my sorrows.

He came on Saturday. On Saturday evening there was a Ball in the Town Hall. Frau Schwarz gave me a box, so I absolutely had to go since I'd already accepted. Well, I spent a few wonderfully delightful hours with him until 12 o'clock and then with his permission I spent two hours at the ball.

On Sunday he promised I could see him. I telephoned to the Osteria and left a message to say that I was waiting to hear from him. He simply went off and refused Hoffmann's invitation to coffee and dinner. I suppose there are two sides to every question. Perhaps he wanted to be alone with Dr. G., who was here, but he should have let me know. At Hoffmann's I felt I was sitting on hot coals, expecting him to arrive every moment.

In the end we went to the railroad station, as he suddenly decided he had to leave. We were just in time to see the last lights of the train disappearing. Hoffmann left the house too late, so I couldn't even say good-bye to him. Perhaps I am being too gloomy, I hope I am, but he is not coming again for another two weeks. Until then I'll be miserable and restless. I don't know why he should be angry with me. Perhaps it's because of the ball, but he did give his permission.

I'm racking my brains to find out why he left without saying good-bye.

The Hoffmanns have given me a ticket to the masquerade this evening, but I'm not going. I'm far too unhappy.

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