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
"Well," said Wegen, as he stroked his moustache, much satisfied, "I
have managed my affair well; they are all coming, all. Some out of
politeness, others from motives of political zeal and a sense of duty,
as they would know, of course, what a candidate for election has to say
to them; many from curiosity, to become acquainted with the Ordensburg.
They did not find you at home on their return visits; in short, you
will have a perfect rainbow of political colours at your table;
naturally all the others very pale, the liberal red outshining them.
But, my dear friend, I have still to go to the district town. The
Landrath is from home for a few days; he returns to-morrow, and will
not be missing from your dinner; the Chief Deputy of the district has
gout, so I must represent him. Look at me; to-day you see in me the
Father of the district; do you not perceive the dignity of my
demeanour? Even a couple of legal document wrinkles have put in their
appearance! But I find nothing prepared for my reception. I do not mean
wooden, triumphal arches, nor unattractive maidens clad in white, but
something palatable--an enjoyable breakfast."
Blanden took care that a breakfast should be served, by which Wegen did
his duty bravely, and then conducted his friend, at the latter's
desire, to the stables. They were splendid places; Blanden had been as
careful that horses of the finest race should fill his stalls, as he
had been in devoting the most anxious attention to the neglected breed
of sheep in East Prussia. He showed this living inventory, not without
contented pride, and Wegen, in his good nature, went so far as to
indulge this little weakness of his friend, and to let himself be led
again and again into the agricultural sanctum, although he already knew
every horse's head so accurately that he could have sketched it, and
had sorted the wool of each single sheep on its body.
Then together they looked at the new buildings which Wegen had
especially superintended, because Blanden, from horror of the masons'
noise, had taken flight.
"The guest-chambers have been carried out according to your plans,"
said Wegen, "but I permitted myself to have them ornamented with a few
elegant additions. It is too cruel the way guests are treated in most
houses; one is shoved into a bare room, a sort of guard room, in any
corner of the house, like an old travelling trunk or carpet-bag. These
elegant canopied beds and carpets, the toilet-table furnished with
everything that Parisian genius has invented; even upon the chest of
drawers, work materials with needles, upon the little tables beside the
beds, the newest German and French novels for reading before going to
sleep, are my idea. Certainly it costs a fearful sum, and in addition
of your money; but you will be satisfied with it, as Kulmitten will be
a radiant example for all East Prussia, and what is done for
civilisation is never lost."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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