The Golden Flower Pot

Veronica again gave way to her dreaming; yet now, it was as if a hostile shape were still coming forward among these lovely visions of her future household life as Frau Hofrathinn, and the shape were laughing in spiteful mockery, and saying: This is all very stupid and trashy stuff, and lies to boot; for Anselmus will never, never, be Hofrath or your husband; he does not love you in the least, though you have blue eyes, and a fine figure, and a pretty hand. Then an ice-stream poured over Veronica’s soul; and a deep sorrow swept away the delight with which, a little while ago, she had seen herself in the lace cap and fashionable earrings. Tears almost rushed into her eyes, and she said aloud: Ah! it is too true; he does not love me in the least; and I shall never, never, be Frau Hofrathinn!.