The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 05: Masterpieces of German Literature Translated into English
Philosophy
The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 05: Masterpieces of German Literature Translated into English
German literature -- 19th century -- Translations into English; German literature -- 20th century -- Translations into English
We had reached the rosary. The lovely Fanny, the belle of the day,
as it appeared, would, out of obstinacy, herself break off a blooming
bough. She wounded herself on a thorn, and as if from the dark roses,
flowed the purple on her tender hand. This circumstance put the whole
party into a flutter. English plaster was sought for. A still,
thin, lanky, longish, oldish man, who stood near, and whom I had
not hitherto remarked, put his hand instantly into the close-lying
breast-pocket of his old French gray taffetty coat; produced thence
a little pocket-book; opened it; and presented to the lady, with a
profound obeisance, the required article. She took it without noticing
the giver, and without thanks; the wound was bound up; and we went
forward over the hill, from whose back the company could enjoy the
wide prospect over the green labyrinth of the park to the boundless
ocean.
The view was in reality vast and splendid. A light point appeared
on the horizon between the dark flood and the blue of the heaven.
"A telescope here!" cried John; and already, before the servants who
appeared at the call were in motion, the gray man, modestly bowing,
had thrust his hand into his coat-pocket, and drawn thence a beautiful
Dollond and handed it to John. Bringing it immediately to his eye,
the latter informed the company that it was the ship which went out
yesterday, and was detained in view of port by contrary winds. The
telescope passed from hand to hand, but not again into that of its
owner. I, however, gazed in wonder at the man, and could not conceive
how the great machine had come out of the narrow pocket; but this
seemed to have struck no one else, and nobody troubled himself any
farther about the gray man than about myself.
Refreshments were handed round; the choicest fruits of every zone, in
the costliest vessels. Mr. John did the honors with an easy grace, and
a second time addressed a word to me. "Help yourself; you have not had
the like at sea." I bowed, but he saw it not; he was already speaking
with some one else.
The company would fain have reclined upon the sward on the slope of
the hill, opposite to the outstretched landscape, had they not feared
the dampness of the earth. "It were divine," observed one of the
party, "had we but a Turkey carpet to spread here." The wish was
scarcely expressed when the man in the gray coat had his hand in
his pocket, and was busied in drawing thence, with a modest and even
humble deportment, a rich Turkey carpet interwoven with gold. The
servants received it as a matter of course, and opened it on the
required spot. The company, without ceremony, took their places upon
it; for myself, I looked again in amazement on the man, at the pocket,
at the carpet, which measured above twenty paces long and ten
in breadth, and rubbed my eyes, not knowing what to think of it,
especially as nobody saw anything extraordinary in it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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