German fiction -- Translations into English; Netherlands -- History -- Eighty Years' War, 1568-1648 -- Fiction
This wounded her deeply, and when alone, it often happened that she sunk
into gloomy reverie and, with an aged, weary face, gazed fixedly at the
floor. But Ulrich's approach quickly cheered and rejuvenated her.
Florette now knew what her son had experienced in life, what had moved
his heart, his soul, and could not contradict him, when he told her that
power was the highest prize of existence.
The Eletto's ambitious mind could not be satisfied with little Aalst.
The mutineers had been outlawed by an edict from Brussels, but the king
had nothing to do with this measure; the shameful proclamation was only
intended to stop the wailing of the Netherlanders. They would have to
pay dearly for it! There was a great scheme in view.
The Antwerp of those days was called "as rich as the Indies;" the project
under consideration was the possibility of manoeuvring this abode of
wealth into the hands of the mutineers; the whole Spanish army in the
Netherlands being about to follow the example of the regiments in Aalst.
The mother was the friend and counsellor of the son. At every step he
took he heard her opinion, and often yielded his own in its favor. This
interest in the direction of great events occupied the sibyl's versatile
mind. When, on many occasions, pros and tons were equal in weight, she
brought out the cards, and this oracle generally turned the scale.
No high aim, no desire to accomplish good and great things in wider
spheres, influenced the thoughts and actions of this couple.
What cared they, that the weal and woe of thousands depended on their
decision? The deadly weapon in their bands was to them only a valuable
utensil in which they delighted, and with which fruits were plucked from
the trees.
Ulrich now saw the fulfilment of Don Juan's words, that power was an
arable field; for there were many full ears in Aalst for them both to
harvest.
Florette still nursed, with maternal care, the soldier's orphan which she
had taken to her son's house; the child, born on a bed of straw--was now
clothed in dainty linen, laces and other beautiful finery. It was
necessary to her, for she occupied herself with the helpless little
creature when, during the long morning hours of Ulrich's absence,
sorrowful thought troubled her too deeply.
Ulrich often remained absent a long time, far longer than the service
required. What was he doing? Visiting a sweetheart? Why not? She only
marvelled that the fair women did not come from far and near to see the
handsome man.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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