In the Fire of the Forge: A Romance of Old Nuremberg — Volume 01Ebers, Georg
General
In the Fire of the Forge: A Romance of Old Nuremberg — Volume 01
Ebers, Georg
German fiction -- Translations into English; Nuremberg (Germany) -- Fiction
The attention of the young Duchess Agnes, daughter of King Ottocar of
Bohemia and wife of the Emperor's third son, who also bore the name of
Rudolph, had been claimed during this incident by the Duke of Nassau, who
had presented his ladies to her, but they had scarcely retired when she
beckoned to Heinz Schorlin, and while talking with him gazed into his
eyes with such warm, childlike pleasure that Eva was incensed; she
thought it unseemly for a wife and a duchess to be on such familiar terms
with a simple knight. Nay, her disapproval of the princess's conduct
must have been very deep, for during the whole time of her conversation
with the knight there was a loud singing in the young girl's ears. The
Bohemian's face might be considered pretty; her dark eyes sparkled
brightly, animating the immature features, now slightly sunburnt; and
although four years younger than Eva, her figure, though not above middle
height, was well developed and, in spite of its flexibility, aristocratic
in bearing. While conversing with Heinz Schorlin she seemed joyously
excited, unrestrainedly cordial, but her manner expressed disappointment
and royal hauteur as another group of ladies and gentlemen came forward
to be presented, compelling her to turn her back upon the young Swiss
with a regretful shrug of her shoulders.
The counts and countesses, knights and ladies who thronged around her
concealed her from Eva's eyes, who, now that Heinz Schorlin had left the
Bohemian, again turned her attention to the Emperor, and even ventured to
approach him. What paternal gentleness Rudolph's deep tones expressed!
How much his face attracted her!
True, it could make no pretensions to beauty--the thin, hooked nose was
far too large and long; the corners of the mouth drooped downward too
much; perhaps it was this latter peculiarity which gave the whole face so
sorrowful an aspect. Eva thought she knew its source. The wound dealt a
few months before by the death of his faithful wife, the love of his
youth, still ached. His eyes could not be called either large or bright;
but how kindly, how earnest, shrewd and, when an amusing thought passed
through his mind, how mischievous they could look! His light-brown hair
had not yet turned very grey, spite of his sixty-three years, but the
locks had lost their luxuriance and fell straight, except for a slight
curl at the lower ends, below his neck.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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