German fiction -- Translations into English; Holy Roman Empire -- History -- Charles V, 1519-1556 -- Fiction
How eager they were to do something which suited grown people, and, when
Wolf described the place where they were to carry the articles, Fran
Leitgeb sympathizingly helped him, and charged the children to hold the
valuable packages very carefully. They must not spare the knocker in the
second story of the cantor house, for old Ursula's hearing was no longer
the best, and since the day before yesterday--Kathl had brought the news
home--she had been ill. "Some rare luck," the landlady continued, "will
surely follow the knight up to the Blombergs. The same old steep path,
leads there; but as to Wawer!--it would be improper to say Jungfrau
Barbara--you will surer open your eyes--" Here she was summoned to the
kitchen, and Wolf followed his little assistants into the street.
CHAPTER III.
The cantor house was only a few steps from the Red Cock, and Wolf knew
every stone in the street, which was named for the tavern. Yet that very
circumstance delayed him, for even the smallest trifle which had changed
during his absence attracted his attention.
He had already noticed at the familiar inn that the gay image of the
Madonna and Cluld, and the little lamp above, were no longer there. The
pictures of the saints had been removed from the public rooms, and even
the painting which had been impressed upon his memory from boyhood--like
a sign of the house--had vanished. A large red cock, crowing with wide-
open beak at the Apostle Peter, had been there.
This venerable work of an old artist ought to have been retained, no
matter what doctrine the Leitgebs now professed. Its disappearance
affected the knight unpleasantly.
It also induced him to see whether the Madonna with the swords in her
heart, which, at the time of his departure, had adorned the Ark, the
great house at the corner of the Haidplatz, had met with the same fate,
and this sacred witness of former days had likewise been sacrificed to
the iconoclasm of the followers of the new Protestant faith. This also
grieved him, and urged him to go from street to street, from church to
church, from monastery to monastery, from one of the chapels which no
great mansion in his native land lacked to another, in order to ascertain
what else religious fanaticism had destroyed; but he was obliged to
hasten if he wished to be received by those in his home whom he most
desired to see.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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