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
He gazed out upon the lake. How cold and lifeless it seemed to him; the
moon sank behind the western woods; a chilly north wind had arisen in
the middle of the summer's night, and swept over the freezing waves!
How cold these scentless trees, in their immeasurable monotony!
Before his mind lay the glorious southern lake, in the magical light of
the moon, with its islands, that seemed to float upon its waves; one
island sent forth its orange perfumes to another; a delicious breeze
was wafted through the night.
The cold glaciers of the distant Alpine passes might gleam in the
moonlight on the horizon like steel-clad giants; they were only the
sentinels who guarded the gates of this Paradise; here all was warm,
enchanting life; shores and islands resounded with songs. It was
Armida's magic-garden; and how seductive was she herself--that Armida,
sparkling with soul and passion!
Blanden called himself to order; how unseemly these recollections
appeared to him just now; but despite violent efforts to ward them off,
they rose ever again and again.
Impatiently he awaited the morning; but just as the red dawn cast the
first pale gleam into the lake he had fallen asleep from over-fatigue,
and in the morning's tardy dreams he saw mysterious figures which
touched all the contents of his castle, so that a wondrous radiancy
streamed forth from them, and through all the rooms he followed a
closely-veiled figure, with a magnolia wreath in its hair.
It was late in the morning when he was awoke by Doctor Kuhl, who had
just come out of the lake.
Blanden believed he must have dreamed the evening before. In order to
convince himself that it was a real occurrence, he once more undertook
a tour through the apartments which on the previous evening had offered
him such enigmas.
The notes, the album-verses remained unchanged in the light of the
morning's sun, just as they had been in the lamp-light. Blanden
summoned his steward.
"Who has been here during my absence?"
"I wanted yesterday, _gnädiger_ Herr, to tell you," said old Olkewicz,
while assuming a reproachful manner, "but you would not allow me to
speak!"
"Then tell me now!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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