What the Swallow Sang: A NovelSpielhagen, Friedrich
General
What the Swallow Sang: A Novel
Spielhagen, Friedrich
Fiction
"A doctor, a doctor, is there no doctor here?"
There was none, but no physician could have been of any avail. The man
who had tried to seize the horse's bridle, and in whom others also now
recognized Brandow's former trainer, Hinrich Scheel, for whose arrest a
warrant had been issued, lay dead on his back with crushed skull and
horribly distorted face, from which the dim eyes glared frightfully;
his master still lived, but Gotthold, who was supporting him in his
arms, saw that his end was fast approaching. A deathlike pallor rested
on the delicate, clear-cut features, and the white teeth gleamed with a
strange, frightful expression from between livid lips. A shudder
convulsed the whole body, and the head fell on Gotthold's breast.
"Here comes a doctor," cried several voices.
"He will find nothing to do," murmured Gotthold; "help me to carry him
away."
As they raised the body, a lady in a blue veil, who had been standing
near with her hands clenched convulsively, shrieked aloud, and sank
fainting on the ground. No particular notice was taken of it. Several
ladies had fainted.
CHAPTER XXXV.
A wondrously beautiful autumn, with mild golden days, and clear starry
nights, brooded over the country. Everywhere summer roses bloomed in
the gardens beside the asters, and the forests were very slow in
decking themselves in brilliant hues. The air was so still that the
floating threads of gossamer scarcely stirred, and when a leaf fell it
remained just where it touched the ground. The birds of passage had
paused in their migration, and chirped and--twittered among the fields
and hedges with their merry little voices, while in the evening the
wild swans, which usually, long ere this time, had soared away on their
strong white wings, called to each other along the shore.
It was a wondrously beautiful autumn, which seemed marvellously like
summer; "but it is only an illusion," said Cecilia, "the summer is
over, winter is close at hand, and I must prepare for it."
She had been six weeks in Dollan, which she had never expected to
enter, never hoped to see again. But the physicians had urgently
desired that, to secure perfect recovery from her severe illness, if a
winter's residence in the South was impracticable, Gretchen should at
least spend the beautiful days of autumn on the sea-shore, in a sunny
spot, sheltered from the cold winds; and what place could have
fulfilled these requirements better than quiet, sunny Dollan? And, even
if it were a sacrifice for her to return here, she made it
unhesitatingly for the sake of her child and her old father.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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