American fiction -- 19th century; Love stories; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; San Francisco (Calif.) -- Fiction
It was good after that to get into the slanting sunlight and checkered
linden shadows of the Allee; to see even a tightly jacketed cavalryman
naturally walking with Clarchen and her two round-faced and drab-haired
young charges; to watch the returning invalid procession, very real and
very human, each individual intensely involved in the atmosphere of his
own symptoms; and very good after that to turn into the Thiergarten,
where the animals, were, however, chiefly of his own species, and
shamelessly and openly amusing themselves. It was pleasant to contrast
it with his first visit to the place three months before, and correct
his crude impressions. And it was still more pleasant suddenly to
recognize, under the round flat cap of a general officer, a former
traveler who was fond of talking with him about America with an
intelligence and understanding of it that Paul had often missed among
his own traveled countrymen. It was pleasant to hear his unaffected
and simple greeting, to renew their old acquaintance, and to saunter
back to the hotel together through the long twilight.
They were only a few squares from the hotel, when Paul's attention was
attracted by the curiosity and delight of two or three children before
him, who appeared to be following a quaint-looking figure that was
evidently not unfamiliar to them. It appeared to be a servant in a
striking livery of green with yellow facings and crested silver
buttons, but still more remarkable for the indescribable mingling of
jaunty ease and conscious dignity with which he carried off his finery.
There was something so singular and yet so vaguely reminiscent in his
peculiar walk and the exaggerated swing of his light bamboo cane that
Paul could not only understand the childish wonder of the passers-by,
who turned to look after him, but was stirred with a deeper curiosity.
He quickened his pace, but was unable to distinguish anything of the
face or features of the stranger, except that his hair under his cocked
hat appeared to be tightly curled and powdered. Paul's companion, who
was amused at what seemed to be the American's national curiosity, had
seen the figure before. "A servant in the suite of some Eastern
Altesse visiting the baths. You will see stranger things, my friend,
in the Strudle Bad. Par example, your own countrymen, too; the one who
has enriched himself by that pork of Chicago, or that soap, or this
candle, in a carriage with the crest of the title he has bought in
Italy with his dollars, and his beautiful daughters, who are seeking
more titles with possible matrimonial contingencies."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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