What the Swallow Sang: A NovelSpielhagen, Friedrich
General
What the Swallow Sang: A Novel
Spielhagen, Friedrich
Fiction
And the opportunity was more favorable, than any which might offer
again. A second stolen glance through the window into the already
lighted room showed him that the party were busily engaged in their
game--faro apparently--and Brandow had the bank--so he could not leave
now. Rieke was standing at the back of the tolerably large room with a
waiter full of glasses, which the Pastor was filling from a large
bowl--so she too was employed for the present. The hall was perfectly
still; the table in the dining-room still stood just as the guests had
left it--the solitary candle at which they had lighted their cigars
flickered in the strong draught, as if ready to go out. This room was
also unoccupied; so he succeeded in reaching the dusky garden unseen.
Although the sun had scarcely set, it was almost dark. The clouds,
which had dispersed a little during the afternoon, were once more piled
in huge dark masses, which a high wind blowing in irregular gusts,
drove to and fro as if in wild sport. The tops of the old trees swayed
hither and thither; and the tall hedges rustled and hissed like a
thousand sharp tongues.
So it seemed to Gotthold. Again and again he paused, gasping for
breath; he was so entirely unaccustomed to do anything by stealth. And
yet it must be; he could not part from her forever in this way.
The end of the house, in the lower part of which was her chamber, and
above it the room he had occupied, looked out upon a smaller garden,
which was separated from the courtyard by a wall, shut in on the
opposite side by a barn, and divided from the larger garden at the back
of the house by a very thick, high hedge. It had originally been a
fruit and vegetable garden, and a few huge old apple and pear trees
still stood in different parts of it; but had afterwards been converted
into a play-ground for the children of the house, for whose sake the
asparagus and cucumber beds had been transformed into a grass plot, and
a narrow door cut through the thick wall of the nursery.
Gotthold had repeatedly seen Cecilia, who always retired early in the
evening, in this garden with the child, or--at a later hour--alone. His
hope was to find her here, or at any rate to make known his presence,
of which she had probably not been informed, and--he did not know what
would, must happen then; he only said to himself that things could not,
should not remain as they were.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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