Goethe and Schiller: An Historical RomanceMühlbach, L. (Luise)
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Goethe and Schiller: An Historical Romance
Mühlbach, L. (Luise)
Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von, 1749-1832 -- Fiction; Schiller, Friedrich, 1759-1805 -- Fiction
"Of course I have, my child. From whom could I have otherwise learned
all this? He entreated me to procure him an interview with you. I told
him to come here in two hours and wait outside, promising to call him
in if you should permit me to do so. The two hours have now passed, my
child. Will you see him?"
"Wait a moment," said Marie, turning pale. "I must first collect my
thoughts, I must first nerve myself. You know I am very weak, Trude,
and--there! I feel that thorn piercing my breast again! It pains
fearfully!"
She closed her eyes, threw herself back in the chair, and lay there
quivering and groaning. Trude remained standing near the door
tearfully, regarding the pale, attenuated countenance, which was still
her ideal of all that was lovely and beautiful.
Slowly Marie opened her eyes again. "You may bring him in, Trude, but
we will be composed and avoid speaking of the past."
Marie followed Trude with a sorrowful gaze, as she walked noiselessly
to the door and out into the hall. "The good, faithful old nurse!"
murmured she. "Does she really believe that I shall recover, or is she
only trying to make me believe so? I so long to live, I so long for a
little happiness on earth!"
CHAPTER II.
RECONCILIATION.
The door opened again, and Trude entered, followed by a tall, thin
gentleman. His cheeks were hollow, and his light hair and brown beard
had turned gray, and yet it seemed to Marie that he was younger and
stronger than when she had last seen him, two years before, on that
fearful day of vengeance. His countenance now wore a different, a
firmer and more energetic expression, and the eyes that had formerly
been so dim, now shone with unusual lustre, and were fastened on Marie
with an expression of tender sympathy.
He hurried forward, grasped the two pale, attenuated hands which Marie
had extended toward him, hid his countenance in them and wept aloud.
For a time all was silent. Trude had noiselessly withdrawn to the
furthest corner of the room, where she stood, half-concealed by the
bed-curtains, endeavoring to suppress her sobs, that her darling might
not hear them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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