On the staircase, which I slowly mounted, and which was wide and bright, were smells and sounds as of bygone elegance. What they call former beauty is extraordinarily attractive to some people. Ruins are rather touching. Before the residues of noble things our pensive, sensitive inward selves involuntarily bow. The remnants of what was once distinguished, refined, and brilliant infuse us with compassion, but simultaneously also with respect. Bygone days and old decrepitude, how enchanting you are! On the door I read the name “Frau Wilke.” Here I gently and cautiously rang the bell. But when I realized that it was no use ringing, since nobody answered, I knocked, and then somebody approached. Very guardedly and very slowly somebody opened the door. A gaunt, thin, tall woman stood before me, and asked in a low voice: “What is it you want?” Her voice had a curiously dry and hoarse sound. “May I see the room?” “Yes, of course. Please come in.” The woman led me down a strangely dark corridor to the room, whose appearance immediately charmed and delighted me.
