The lights in the banquet hall shimmered like a cascading golden waterfall. Champagne glasses were stacked into high towers, surrounded by flowers and ribbons, like mountains made of crystal.
Waiters in crisp shirts and black vests moved among the guests. They lowered their arms gently, and once the glasses on their trays had been taken, they gave reserved nods. Their retreating figures, heads held high, resembled proud swans.
"I truly never expected to meet a gentleman scholar here who, like me, had read Mickiewicz thoroughly and drawn insight from his works. When I went to Lithuania, I even visited his former residence..."
"Oh, yes, madam. When I passed through Weimar, I heard of his friendship with Goethe. He must have greatly enjoyed Goethe's poetry; one could see as much from his Ode to Youth..."
To the right of the windowsill near the window, Schiller was conversing with a white-haired elderly lady.
Before long, the topic grew somewhat deeper. The elegant old woman gently shook her head and said, "Forgive my limited learning, but I truly know very little about psychology. I know those loud young men, led by the Powers brothers, are always throwing around words like brain waves, mind-reading, telepathy, and the like."
"If I had to find a reasonable explanation for all those mystical new terms, I think 'psychology' would be more accurate than anything else. People should rely on systematic knowledge, rather than hoping some superpower will fall from the sky. Don't you agree, sir?"
"Oh, madam, you have spoken straight to my heart. As a psychiatrist, I always have to patiently explain to all kinds of patients whether mind-reading truly exists, whether I can see their secrets, or even what they ate for dinner..."
Seeing the helplessness on Schiller's face, the elderly lady chuckled deeply. Then