Tales from the German. Volume I.Velde, C. F. van der (Carl Franz)
General
Tales from the German. Volume I.
Velde, C. F. van der (Carl Franz)
German fiction -- Translations into English
flaunted by, in their curved conical head-dresses. There, a Laplandish
burgher-maiden ostentatiously displayed herself in her fine cloth
dress, decorated with silver buttons from the girdle to the feet, as
was the black bodice, and also rendered stiff and unbending with
buckles and spangles. High over these rather diminutive figures towered
here and there the majestic forms of the blond natives of Sweden, who
were moving about like giants among a race of pigmies.
The travelers alighted before the door of the sheriff's residence, and
the governor immediately entered upon business, which crowded upon him
like the unceasing rush of the storm-lashed waves. Megret, with a few
internally muttered oaths, was seeking Christine, who had disappeared
from his view soon after their arrival, and Arwed remained standing at
the house door, amusing himself with watching the confused crowd in the
public square. While he was thus employed, a sudden movement occurred
among the living masses, as if an island of human heads was forming in
one particular spot. Arms, with and without clubs, were ever and anon
raised above the thickly crowded heads, and a confused cry arose, in
which Arwed soon plainly distinguished the words, 'stop him! stop him!'
The next moment a man in a green hunting dress rushed from the square
towards the door of the sheriff's house, ran by Arwed with such
impetuosity that he came near throwing him down, and hastily entered
the room where the governor was holding his official sitting. While the
astonished Arwed was looking after the fugitive, a Lapland village
constable (or magistrate) came puffing and blowing from the same
direction in the square. A dozen other Laplanders followed in his wake,
armed with hunting spears, oars and cudgels. With the timidity to which
the oppressed are early accustomed by their oppressors, the little
constable looked up to the tall Swedish warrior, took off his cap, and
with cringing humility asked him if he knew what had become of the
green-coat who had just before fled into the house.
'Impossible!' cried he, as Arwed pointed towards the session room; 'how
could such a thievish fox seek refuge in the tent of the huntsman? Not
that I in the least doubt the truth of your intimation, noble sir,'
added he, courteously, 'but Enontekis must have mistaken the man, and
he cannot be the one whom we seek.'
'He is the same,' asseverated one of the Laplanders; 'I have marked the
features of his face but too well, and should know him among a
thousand.'
'So then we must pluck up fresh courage,' said the constable in a very
dispirited tone, 'and request an audience of the gentlemen within. Come
with me, Enontekis, to enter your complaint; and you others, guard the
door, that this beast of prey may not escape.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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