Margery (Gred): A Tale Of Old Nuremberg — Volume 02Ebers, Georg
General
Margery (Gred): A Tale Of Old Nuremberg — Volume 02
Ebers, Georg
German fiction -- Translations into English; Nuremberg (Germany) -- Fiction
Methought already I had heard the noise of hoofs on the highway, and now
the hound sniffed the air, so, being inquisitive, I moved my feet
somewhat faster till I caught sight of a horseman, who sprang from his
saddle, and leaving his steed, hurried toward the clearing whither Ann
must presently come from her side. Thereupon I forced my way through the
underwood which hindered me from seeing, and when I presently saw Ann
coming and had opened my lips to call, something, meseemed, took me by
the throat, and I was fain to stand still as though I had taken root
there, and could only lend eye and ear, gasping for breath, to what was
doing yonder by the highroad. And verily I knew not whether to rejoice
from the bottom of my heart, or to lament and be wroth, and fly forth to
put an end to it all.
Nevertheless I stirred not a limb, and my tongue was spell-bound. The
heart in my bosom and the veins in my head beat as though hammers were
smiting within; mine eyes were dazed, albeit they could see as well as
ever they did, and I espied first, on one side of the clearing, the
horseman, who was none other than Herdegen, my well-beloved elder
brother, and on the other side thereof Ann carrying her wallet in her
hand, and numbering the birds she had taken from the snares, with a
contented smile.
But ere I had time to hail the returned traveller a voice rang through
the wood--it was my brother's voice, and yet, meseemed it was not; it
spoke but one word "Ann!" And in the long drawn cry there was a ring of
heart's delight and lovesick longing such as I had never heard save from
the nightingale lover when in the still May nights he courts his beloved.
This cry pierced to my heart, even mine; and it brought the color to
Ann's face, which had long ceased to be pale. Like a doe which comes
forth from a thicket and finds her young grazing in the glade, she lifted
her head and looked with brightest eyes away to the high road whence the
call had come. Then, though they were yet far asunder, his eyes met
hers, and hers met his, and they uplifted their arms, as though some
invisible power had moved them both, and flew to meet each other. There
was no doubt nor pause; and I plainly perceived that they were borne
along as flowers are in a raging torrent; albeit she, or ever she reached
him; was overcome by maiden shamefacedness, and her arms fell and her
head was bent. But the little bird had ventured too far into the
springe, and the fowler was not the man to let it escape; before Ann
could foresee such a deed he had both his arms round her, and she did not
hinder him, nay, for she could not. So she clung to him and let him lift
up her head and kiss her eyes and then her mouth, and that not once, no,
but many a time and again, and so long that I, a sixteen-year-old maid,
was in truth affrighted.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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