Withered Leaves: A Novel. Vol. 1 (of 3)Gottschall, Rudolf von
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Withered Leaves: A Novel. Vol. 1 (of 3)
Gottschall, Rudolf von
German fiction -- Translations into English
A few days later, two strangers engaged in eager conversation sat
together in the garden-square, between the four Kur-houses of Bad
Neukuhren. In the one, notwithstanding that he wore fashionable summer
garments, we again recognise the sportsman of the forest, whose
sun-burnt features contrasted so strongly with the light straw hat and
light-coloured clothes; the other gazed morosely from beneath an untidy
felt hat, his sharp furrowed face, which was, however, cast in a noble
and somewhat elevated mould, suited the muscular figure.
He might have been taken for a sailor, owing to the power and
determination that lay in his whole appearance, had not a refined
spiritual expression in his eyes shown that he was wont to occupy
himself with intellectual subjects.
"I rejoice, dear Doctor, to have become better acquainted with you
here," said the sportsman, "the companions of my own position are
somewhat too coolly indifferent to everything that interests me. At the
Chief Forester's, things are conducted too patriarchally, and,
therefore, I fled to the sea to distract my mind. I will only return to
my castle when the rebuilding of the one wing is completed. I gave the
architect the exact plan; but always to be present oneself, and to
watch its being carried out, is not in accordance with my taste.
Everything unfinished is odious to me; those lime pits, those carts of
stone, those scaffoldings, make an uncomfortable impression upon me.
Therefore, I accepted the Chief Forester's invitation at first, he
being an old friend of my father."
"How long have you been back in Europe, Herr Von Blanden?" asked the
Doctor.
"I have been in Europe for two years; but during that time I have
exhausted the romance of the south; spent two summers on the Italian
lakes, whose charms are indescribable! I have seen the Highland lakes
in the giant mountains of Thibet and the sun of Palestine; yet the
peculiarity of a Lago Maggiore; that balminess that hovers over the
water, the islands, the shores, cannot be found elsewhere! My father's
death, two month's ago, recalled me to East Prussia; it marked a
turning point in my life."
"You became rich," said the Doctor.
"I have never needed to trouble myself about money, and I consider that
a great advantage. Those are unhappy mortals who, amongst all the other
ills of life, must also take that vile metal into consideration in
everything that they do or wish! Is there a more inconsolable slavery
than that of dependance upon money? Therein consists the happiness of
riches, that they do not know these limits."
"The German student does not know them either," interposed the Doctor,
"or, rather, will not know them. Youth is free! But the unpaid accounts
follow us for many long years, and a frowning father reminds us that
this youthful freedom belongs to the kingdom of dreams."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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