Seldwyla Folks: Three Singular TalesKeller, Gottfried
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Seldwyla Folks: Three Singular Tales
Keller, Gottfried
Switzerland -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
Next day his father was stiff and sore and would not leave the house,
and to him the whole wretched meeting with his foe and the whole
development of the enmity between them, and the long years of misery
that had grown out of it suddenly seemed to take on a new form and to
become much plainer, while its influence spread around even in his
dusky tavern. So much so that both Manz and his wife were moving about
like ghosts, out of one room into another, into the cheerless kitchen
and the bedchambers, and thence back again into the equally bare and
dark guest room, where not a person was to be seen all day. At last
they both began to grumble, one blaming the other for things that had
gone wrong, dropping into an uneasy slumber from time to time from
which a nightmare would waken them with a start, and in which their
unquiet consciences upbraided them for past misdeeds. Only Sali heard
and saw nothing of all this, for his mind was entirely engrossed with
Vreni. Still the illusion was strong with him of being immeasurably
wealthy, but beside that he had a hallucination that he was powerful
and had learned how to conduct the most complicated and important
affairs in the world. He felt as if he knew all the wisdom on earth,
everything great and beautiful. And forever there stood before his
dreamy soul, clear and distinct, that great happening of the night
before, that wonderful creature with her enticing smile, that smile
which had shed a blinding flash of happiness on his path. The
consciousness of this great adventure dwelt with him like an
unspeakable secret, of which he was the sole possessor and which had
fallen to his share direct from heaven. It afforded him constant food
for thought and wonderment. And yet with all that it seemed also to him
that he had always known this would happen to him, and as if what now
filled him with such marvelous sweetness had always dwelt in his heart.
For nothing is just like this happiness of love, this sharing of a
mystery between two persons, which approaches human beings in the form
of unspeakable bliss, yet in a form so clear and precise, sanctioned
and sanctified by the priest, and endowed with a name so mellifluously
fine that no other word sounds half so sweet as Love.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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