Fräulein Schmidt and Mr. AnstrutherVon Arnim, Elizabeth
General
Fräulein Schmidt and Mr. Anstruther
Von Arnim, Elizabeth
British -- Germany -- Fiction; Epistolary fiction; Germany -- Fiction; Love stories; Young women -- Fiction
When she told me that my heart went out to her with a rush. I shall not
stop to explain why, but it did rush, and from that moment I felt that I
must put my arms round her, I, the elder and quieter, take her by the
hand, help her to dry her poor silly eyes, pet her and make her happy
again. And really after six days there was no more crying, and for the
last three she has been looking at life with something of the critical
indifference that lifts one over so many tiresome bits of the road.
Unfortunately her mother doesn't like me. Don't you think it's dreadful
of her not to? She fears I am emancipated, and knows that I am Schmidt.
If I were a Wedel, or an Alvensleben, or a Schulenburg, or of any other
ancient noble family, even an obscure member of its remotest branch, she
would consider my way of living and talking merely as a thing to be
smiled at with kind indulgence. But she knows that I am Schmidt. Nothing
I can say or do, however sweet and sane, can hide that horrid fact. And
she knows that my father is a careless child of nature, lamentably
unimpressible by birth and office; that my mother was an Englishwoman
with a name inspiring little confidence; and that we let ourselves go to
an indecent indifference to appearances, not even trying to conceal that
we are poor. How useless it is to be pleasant and pretty--I really have
been very pleasant to her, and the daughter kindly tells me I am
pretty--if you are both Schmidt and poor. Though I speak with the
tongues of angels and have no family it avails me nothing. If I had
family and no charity I would get on much better in the world, in
defiance of St. Paul. Frau von Lindeberg would take me to her heart,
think me distinguished where now she thinks me odd, think me witty where
now she thinks me bold, listen to my speeches, laugh at my sallies, be
interested in my gardening and in my efforts to live without meat; but
here I am, burning, I hope, with charity, with love for my neighbors,
with ready sympathy, eager friendliness, desire to be of use, and it all
avails me nothing because my name is Schmidt.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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