In the Year '13: A Tale of Mecklenburg LifeReuter, Fritz
General
In the Year '13: A Tale of Mecklenburg Life
Reuter, Fritz
Mecklenburg (Germany : Region) -- Fiction
And, so saying, the Herr Amtshauptmann took Fritz by the collar, and
raised the stick in the air; and, if Providence was to come to his
help, it was now the highest time, and--Providence did come. A knock
was heard at the door, and in walked the Town Messenger--Luth.
"The Herr Burmeister's respects, and things are going hard against the
watchmaker and the Miller, and would the Herr Amtshauptmann be so good
as to come down at once and not fail to bring Mamsell Westphalen with
him, for her evidence was of the greatest importance."
"I will come at once, Luth. Neiting, the matter is pressing. Fritz
Sahlmann, get my coat, and, Neiting, you go up to that old bird of
misfortune and bring her down."
It may be guessed how quickly Fritz Sahlmann fetched the coat, and how
glad he was to get out of sight of the Herr Amtshauptmann!
"Frau Amtshauptmann," said Fritz, "I must come with you, for she won't
open the door for you alone; and she's not really in the garret itself,
but sitting in a place quite near, that nobody knows but me."
So he ran on in front, and the Frau Amtshauptmann followed him softly.
Fritz tapped at the door.
"Mamsell, it's me; open the door." No answer.
"Mamsell, all's well! Pickled pork!" Still no answer.
"Mamsell, the French are all gone." Thereupon, something began to move,
and a piteous voice was heard to say--
"Fritz Sahlmann, you are a story-teller. Don't tempt me to come out."
Presently the Frau Amtshauptmann also cried out: "Open the door,
Westphalen. It is I--your mistress."
"I cannot let myself be seen," cried the voice, "I am a sinner, a
miserable sinner."
"Only open the door. It will all come right again."
After long preliminaries, Mamsell Westphalen at length opened the door;
and now stood there, red in the face, and the tears running down her
cheeks. But, to this day, nobody knows whether it was from emotion or
whether it was from the smoke; enough, the tears ran down, and, if it
can properly be said of a stout elderly female, she looked like a
broken reed.
"Frau Amtshauptmann," said she, "I cannot appear before you; I have
sunk too low. For more than twenty years I have lived in your house,
and in all that time I have never taken the smallest thing that did not
belong to me; and now, in an evil hour, I have taken what was yours."
"Come, come, Westphalen, never mind. Only come down now."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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