The arrogant knight’s position was critical, and real inward dignity was unknown to him.  Yet he would rather have been dragged with his brothers to the executioner’s block than humbled himself before the Swiss.  But he must talk with him for the sake of his twin sons, whose heritage he had so shamefully gambled away.  True, the utmost he intended was the confession that, while intoxicated, he had staked his property at the gaming table and said things which he regretted.  Heinz Schorlin’s generosity was well known.  Perhaps he might offer some acceptable arrangement ere the notary conveyed his estate to him.  He did not yet feel that he could stoop so low as to receive a gift from this young upstart.

If his father-in-law, who supported him, was really ruined, as he had just asserted, he would indeed be plunged into beggary, with his wife, whose stately figure constantly rose before him, with a look of mute reproach, his beautiful twin boys, and his load of debt.

The gigantic man felt physically crushed by the terrible blows of fate which had fallen upon him during this last wakeful night.  He would fain have gone to the nearest tavern and there left it to the wine to bring forgetfulness.  To drink, drink constantly, and in the intervals sleep with his head resting on his arms, seemed the most tempting prospect.  But he was obliged to return to the Eysvogels.  There was too much at stake.  Besides, he longed to see the twins who resembled him so closely, and of whom Countess Cordula had said that she hoped they would not be like their father.

     ETEXT editor’s bookmarks: 

     Abandoned women (required by law to help put out the fires)
     The heart must not be filled by another’s image

IN THE FIRE OF THE FORGE

A ROMANCE OF OLD NUREMBERG

By Georg Ebers

Volume 4.

CHAPTER XV.

The city gates were already open.  Peasants and peasant women bringing vegetables and other farm produce to market thronged the streets, wains loaded with grain or charcoal rumbled along, and herds of cattle and swine, laden donkeys, the little carts of the farmers and bee keepers conveying milk and honey to the city, passed over the dyke, which was still softened by the rain of the preceding night.

The thunderstorm had cooled the air, but the rays of the morning sun were already scorching.  A few heavy little clouds were darkly relieved against the blue sky, and a peasant, driving two sucking pigs before him, called to another, who was carrying a goose under each arm, that the sun was drawing water, and thundershowers seldom came singly.

Yet the city looked pleasant enough in the freshness of early June.  The maidservants who were opening the shutters glanced gaily out into the streets, and arranged the flowers in front of the windows or bowed reverently as a priest passed by on his way to mass.  The barefooted Capuchin, with his long beard, beckoned to the cook or the tradesman’s wife and, as she put something into his beggar’s sack and he thanked her kindly with some pious axiom, she felt as if she herself and all her household had gained a right to the blessing of Heaven for that day, and cheerily continued her work.