What more likely than the assumption that the position of affairs had at
last become unbearable to Goldschmidt, and that he had determined on an
elopement to London? In a romantic purpose of the sort Goldschmidt could
count upon the sympathy of a hot-blooded young man. I consequently
declared myself quite willing to talk the matter over with the poet and
learn more particulars as to what was expected of me; meanwhile, I
thought I might promise my assistance. It was Easter week, I believe
Maunday Thursday; I promised to call upon Goldschmidt on one of the
holidays at a prearranged time.
Good Friday and Easter Sunday I was prevented from going to him, and I
had already made up my mind to pay my visit on Easter Monday when on
Monday morning I received a letter from Bookseller Steen which made me
exceedingly indignant. The letter, which exhibited, as I considered,
(incorrectly, as it turned out), unmistakably signs of having been
dictated to him, bore witness to the utmost impatience. Steen wrote that
after undertaking to pay a visit to Goldschmidt I had now let two days
elapse without fulfilling my promise. There was "no sense in keeping a
man waiting" day after day, on such important business; in Steen's
"personal opinion," it had not been at all polite of me, as the younger
author, not to inform Goldschmidt which day I would go to see him.
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