Seldwyla Folks: Three Singular TalesKeller, Gottfried
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Seldwyla Folks: Three Singular Tales
Keller, Gottfried
Switzerland -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
Soon they were in the open, fields of ripe, waving corn or else of
fresh stubble around them, and went along, quietly and full of deep
contentment, close to each other, breathing the pure air as though
freed from prison walls. It was a delicious Sunday morning in
September. There was not a cloud to be seen in the sky of deep azure,
and in the distance the hills and woods were enwrapped in a delicate
haze, so that the whole landscape looked more solemn and mysterious.
From everywhere the tolling of the church bells was heard, the
harmonious deep tones of a big swinging bell belonging to a wealthy
congregation, or the talkative two small bells of a poor village that
made fast time to create any impression at all. The lovers forgot
completely as to what was to become of them at the end of this rare
day, forgot the disturbing uncertainties of their young lives, and gave
themselves up completely to the intoxicating delights of the moment,
sank their very souls in a calm joy that knew no words and no fears.
Neatly clothed, free to come or go, like two happy ones who before God
and men belong to each other by all rights, they went forth into the
still Sunday country side. Each slight sound or call, reverberating and
finally losing itself in the general silence, shook their hearts as
though the strings of a harp had been touched by divine fingers. For
Love is a musical instrument which makes resound the farthest and the
most indifferent subjects and changes them into a music all its own.
Though both were hungry and faint, the half hour's walk to the next
village seemed to them but a step, and they entered slowly the little
inn that stood at the entrance to the place.
Sali ordered a substantial and appetizing breakfast, and while it was
being prepared they observed, quiet as two mice, the interior of this
homely place of entertainment, everything in it being scrupulously
clean and orderly, from the walls and tables and napkins to the hearth
and floor. The guest room itself was large and airy, and the window
panes glittered in the furtive rays of the sun. The host of the inn was
at the same time a baker, and his last baking, just out of the oven,
spread a delicious odor through the whole house. Stacks of fresh loaves
were carried past them in clean baskets, since after church service the
members of the congregation were in the habit of getting here their
white bread or to drink their noon shoppen. The hostess, a rather
handsome and neat woman, dressed in their Sunday finery all her little
brood of children, leisurely and pleasantly, and as she was done with
one more of the little ones, the latter, proud and glad, would come
running to Vreni, showing her all their finery, and innocently boasting
and bragging of their belongings and of all else they held precious.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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