Wenn ich dein Spiegel wär / Dann würdest du dich in mir sehn / Dann fiel's dir nicht so schwer / Was ich nicht sage, zu verstehn / Bis du dich umdrehst / Weil du dich zu gut in mir erkennst
Everything about his appearance, from his bored and weary gaze to his measured saunter, made the sharpest possible contrast to his lively little wife. He was evidently not only acquainted with everyone present in the drawing room, but so sick of them all that he found it utterly tedious even to look at or listen to them, since he knew in advance exactly how everything would go.
Of all the people there that he found so very boring, he seemed to find none more so than his own pretty wife. He turned away from her lovely face with a faint, sour grimace that spoiled his handsome features, as if he were thinking: "You were the last thing this company required to make it utterly loathsome to me."
“They themselves felt that they were no longer taking care of him (he was no longer there, he had left them), but on what reminded them most closely of him—his body.”