What the Swallow Sang: A NovelSpielhagen, Friedrich
General
What the Swallow Sang: A Novel
Spielhagen, Friedrich
Fiction
"Because in so doing I should wrong myself, and, in a certain sense,
you also. Myself: because I could not stay in Dollan, in your house,
without being at every step, at every moment, a prey to the most
painful memories; and who would not willingly spare himself such a
trial, if he could avoid it? You: because--it must be said, Brandow! I
have always considered you my enemy, and my sentiments towards you have
been no friendly ones, even up to this very day, this very hour. Who
would invite a man who is not well disposed towards him to his house!"
"Is it possible?" cried Brandow. "Then that straw head of a Plueggen and
the Parson may have been right when they said: 'He won't come!' 'He
will come,' said I, 'if only to prove that he is still the generous
fellow he always was!' No, Gotthold, you must not give me the lie, if
only on account of those silly fellows, and people like them, who would
then have another fine opportunity to make merry over Carl Brandow, who
always aims very high and then comes out at the little end of the horn.
Well, unhappily there is something in it: I am no longer what I was
once, but a poor devil who must learn to be modest; but this time I
won't be, just this time. And now your hand, old enemy! there, that's
right! I knew you better than you knew yourself."
They began to descend the hill, Brandow, who insisted upon carrying
Gotthold's luggage, still talking eagerly in his hasty, often
incoherent manner, Gotthold silent and vainly trying to shake off the
bewilderment that clouded his brain and oppressed his heart; he had
tried to be frank, perfectly frank; but he had not been so: he had not
said the last thing because he could not, because he must appear like a
fool, a coxcomb, if he did, and like a rude unmannerly boor if he did
not, and simply answered: I will not. But would not even that have been
better than for them to meet again?
Gotthold stood still, and threw back his coat and vest; he felt as if
he were stifling.
"It's terribly sultry here in the wood," said Carl Brandow. "It would
have been much nearer if we had gone down the other side, and then
crossed the fields; but we were obliged to make this circuit to get my
horse. There stands the rascal, stamping his shoes off in his
impatience. Now then, en avant!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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