An Old Story of My Farming Days Vol. 1 (of 3).: (Ut Mine Stromtid)Reuter, Fritz
General
An Old Story of My Farming Days Vol. 1 (of 3).: (Ut Mine Stromtid)
Reuter, Fritz
Farm life -- Fiction
"We are surrounded by pitfalls; I am aware that our foe watches my
every step.--Cowardly _spy_, I _scorn_ you!--Have no fear, Beloved, I
will conquer all difficulties.--One bold deed will bring our love
_recognition_. At two o'clock to-morrow afternoon, when the _Dragon_ is
asleep that guards my _treasure_, I shall expect to see your signal
with the pocket-handkerchief. As for myself, I shall then be hidden
behind the manure heap on the bank beside the large ditch, and shall
whistle three times on the crook of my stick to entice you to come to
me. And--even though the powers of hell should fight against me--I have
sworn to be ever
Thine."
Mrs. Behrens was furious when she read this letter. "The ....!
The ....! Oh you young rascal! 'When the dragon is asleep!' The wretch
means me by that! But wait a bit! _I_'ll entice _you_ to come to _me_,
and though the powers of hell won't touch you, if once I get hold of
you, I'll give you such a box on the ear as you never had before!"
About two o'clock next day, Mrs. Behrens rose from her sofa and went
into the garden. The parlour-door creaked and the garden-door banged as
she went out, and the parson hearing the noise, looked out at the
window to see what it was that took his wife out at that unusual
hour, for as a general rule she did not move from her sofa till
three had struck. He saw her go behind a bush and wave her
pocket-handkerchief.--"She's making signs to Hawermann, of course,"
said he, and then he went and lay down again. But the fact of the
matter is that she only wanted to show her sister's son how much she
longed to get within reach of his ears. But he did not come, not yet
were his three whistles to be heard.--She returned to her room very
crossly, and when her husband asked her at coffee time to whom she had
been making signals in the garden, she was so overwhelmed with
confusion that in spite of being a clergyman's wife--I am sorry to have
to confess it--she told a lie, and said that she had found it so
frightfully close she had been fanning herself a little.
On the third day after that she found another letter:
Address: "To _Her_ who is intended for me by _Fate_.
Inscription: "_Sun_ of my _dark_ existence!!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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