What the Swallow Sang: A NovelSpielhagen, Friedrich
General
What the Swallow Sang: A Novel
Spielhagen, Friedrich
Fiction
Such were the strange thoughts that passed through Gotthold's brain,
while his eyes, like those of the assembled thousands, were fixed upon
the spot pointed out by the experts near him as the one where the
riders must again appear. And there they were already--now recognizable
as horsemen, even by the naked eye--and "Count Grieben and Carl
Brandow" burst forth anew. For only two emerged at the same time, while
the third had already lost so much ground that he appeared full thirty
seconds later. Nothing more was to be expected from him. At the speed
with which the horses were running a lost second could not be regained,
let alone the eternity of thirty! The result now depended upon
Brownlock and Bessy, the two horses that had been the object of public
attention from the first moment and on which immense sums had been
staked up to the last. Would Brownlock win? Would Bessy carry off the
prize? No one dared to decide, no one offered or accepted a bet; they
scarcely ventured to speak, to stir; suspense had chained every tongue.
The scales were still exactly poised, without bending in the least
towards either side. If Bessy, as was universally asserted, was the
faster animal, Brandow's well-known skill in horsemanship made up for
the difference; head to head--the winding course to the stand could be
as distinctly followed as the lines on a map--the horses leaped over
the last hurdle but three, the last but two, the last but one; side by
side the riders took the last obstacle, a wall six feet high, while a
cry of admiration buzzed through the surging crowd. Then followed a
breathless silence. The race must be decided within the next minute.
After the last hurdle was a tract of perfectly level ground about five
hundred paces long; then came several hundred acres of bog, marked by
little flags affixed to poles. If Brownlock did not get a very
considerable lead on the level ground, the race was lost to him; for
Bessy--every one knew--could cross a marsh as lightly as a roe, and
Brownlock would either stick fast or must take a round-about way, which
would cost him his advantage and the victory.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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