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
The dressing-up of these two went on pretty quickly; but with the
Miller it was a long affair, for when he heard that the great-coat with
the seven capes which was intended for him, belonged to the Herr
Amtshauptmann, he was first of all overwhelmed with respect and made
bow after bow to it, as if the old gentleman were standing before him
and wished him to enter first; and then he was overcome with feeling at
the idea of the Amtshauptmann having thought of him in his trouble, and
said he was not worthy of it; and when Fieka had got one sleeve on, the
thought struck him that he might be taken for some one of high rank.
"And, neighbour," he turned to Witte, "supposing I were to begin to
speak now, and the ass's ears were to show above the seven capes!"
"Yes, neighbour," replied the baker, "you're right there; you can't
make a silk purse out of a sow's ear; but you _can_ hold your
tongue;--or else speak High German. You can, you know."
"Yes, I can--after a fashion," said the Miller, and seated himself on
the foremost sack.
They were now all seated except Heinrich.
"Why, Heinrich," said Miller Voss, "there's surely room for you on your
own waggon! Come a little nearer, Fieka, and make room for your
cousin."
But Heinrich would not have it so; he put the horse-cloth round Fieka's
feet, and said he would walk on in front. This he did, now jumping over
a ditch and then back again, and always keeping where he could watch
Fieka's face.
"Herr Rathsherr," said the Miller, "that's my cousin, Joe Voss's son,
he's a fine fellow, isn't he?"
And Rathsherr Herse said: "That he is, Miller, he's a handsome young
fellow."
And baker Witte said: "He's a jolly fellow."
Fieka said nothing, but she thought to herself: "He's a good and
faithful fellow," and she might perhaps have gone on thinking about
him; but all at once Heinrich was at her side, looking at her lovingly,
and asking whether she were not cold. Thinking was of course at an end
now, and she gave him her hand: "Just feel how warm I am."
Witte now dived into the sausage-and-roll basket, and gave everyone his
share; and, on hearing the Herr Rathsherr praise the milk-rolls, the
old baker said to himself: "Now look at the fellow! And yet he goes and
buys his bread of Guhle; but an owl is a bird, when you have got no
other."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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