Stories by Foreign Authors: German — Volume 1 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 196 pages of information about Stories by Foreign Authors.

Stories by Foreign Authors: German — Volume 1 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 196 pages of information about Stories by Foreign Authors.

Two years afterwards I received an appointment in B—–­, and set out on a journey to the south of Germany.  The towers of H——­ rose before me in the red vaporous glow of the evening; the nearer I came the more was I oppressed by an indescribable feeling of the most agonizing distress; it lay upon me like a heavy burden; I could not breathe; I was obliged to get out of my carriage into the open air.  But my anguish continued to increase until it became actual physical pain.  Soon I seemed to hear the strains of a solemn chorale floating in the air; the sounds continued to grow more distinct; I realized the fact that they were men’s voices chanting a church chorale.  “What’s that? what’s that?” I cried, a burning stab darting as it were through my breast.  “Don’t you see?” replied the coachman, who was driving along beside me, “why don’t you see? they’re burying somebody up yonder in yon churchyard.”  And indeed we were near the churchyard; I saw a circle of men clothed in black standing round a grave, which was on the point of being closed.  Tears started to my eyes; I somehow fancied they were burying there all the joy and all the happiness of life.  Moving on rapidly down the hill, I was no longer able to see into the churchyard; the chorale came to an end, and I perceived not far distant from the gate some of the mourners returning from the funeral.  The Professor, with his niece on his arm, both in deep mourning, went close past me without noticing me.  The young lady had her handkerchief pressed close to her eyes, and was weeping bitterly.  In the frame of mind in which I then was I could not possibly go into the town, so I sent on my servant with the carriage to the hotel where I usually put up, whilst I took a turn in the familiar neighborhood to get rid of a mood that was possibly only due to physical causes, such as heating on the journey, etc.  On arriving at a well-known avenue, which leads to a pleasure resort, I came upon a most extraordinary spectacle.  Councillor Krespel was being conducted by two mourners, from whom he appeared to be endeavoring to make his escape by all sorts of strange twists and turns.  As usual, he was dressed in his own curious home-made gray coat; but from his little cocked-hat, which he wore perched over one ear in military fashion, a long narrow ribbon of black crape fluttered backwards and forwards in the wind.  Around his waist he had buckled a black sword-belt; but instead of a sword he had stuck a long fiddle-bow into it.  A creepy shudder ran through my limbs:  “He’s insane,” thought I, as I slowly followed them.  The Councillor’s companions led him as far as his house, where he embraced them, laughing loudly.  They left him; and then his glance fell upon me, for I now stood near him.  He stared at me fixedly for some time; then he cried in a hollow voice, “Welcome, my student friend! you also understand it!” Therewith he took me by the arm and pulled me into the house, up the steps, into the room where the violins

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Stories by Foreign Authors: German — Volume 1 from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.