German fiction -- Translations into English; Short stories, German -- Translations into English
The three had taken their places without the servants deigning to give
them any particular attention. Two of them were contrabbandieri, well
armed, their cloaks thrown lightly about them, their hats drawn well
down over their foreheads. They nodded a friendly greeting to the
others, as to old acquaintances, and after they had given place to
their companion, they made the sign of the cross, and began to eat.
The gentleman who had come with them ate nothing. He removed the hat
from his high brow, passed his hand through his hair, and let his eyes
wander over the place and the company. On the walls he read the sacred
texts drawn in charcoal, saw in the corner the picture of the Madonna
with the little lamp burning before it, and close by the fowls asleep
on their perches; then the ears of corn, strung in rows, hanging from
the ceiling; a board with jugs and wicker bottles on it, hides and
baskets arranged in rows one upon the other. At last his eyes were
arrested by the young woman at the hearth. Her dark profile showed
severe and beautiful against the flickering glow of the fire, a great
mass of black braids coiled low on her neck, her hands were lying
locked together over one knee, while her other foot rested on the stone
floor of the hall. What her age was he could not guess. But by her
bearing he knew that she was mistress of the house.
“Have you any wine in the house, padrona?” he then asked. Scarcely had
he spoken these words when the young girl sprang up as if struck by
lightning, and stood rigidly by the hearth with both arms supporting
her against the ledge. At the same instant the dog, too, started out of
his sleep. A savage growl broke from his coughing breast. The stranger
saw all at once four kindling eyes fastened upon him.
“May I not ask if you have wine in the house, padrona?” he now
repeated. Before the last word was finished, the dog, howling loudly,
sprang upon him with unaccountable fury and with his teeth tore the
cloak from the man’s shoulders, and would have broken loose upon him
again and again had not a sharp command from his mistress restrained
him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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