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Do you know, pray, that on the last evening, at a KNEIPE in the GOLDENE HIRSCH, he boasted of what you had done for him boasted about everything that had happened between you to a rowdy, tipsy crew? More than that, he gave shameless details, about you going to his room that afternoon " "It's not true, it's not true," repeated Louise, as if she had got these few words by heart.
But I had to exercise great moderation here too, as every excitement threatened to bring on a return of erysipelas. A little party of us were at Karl Ritter's one evening, when I hit upon the idea of reading aloud Hoffmann's Der Goldene Topf.
Taking out a sovereign he tried to make the woman comprehend that she could earn it, by telling him where they had gone. He got her finally to write the words out in his pocket-book, gave her the sovereign, and hurried to the Goldene Alp, where there was a waiter who spoke English.
He had fixed an early hour there would be fewer people to see them. When the time approached he attired himself with a certain neat splendour, and though his arm was still sore, left off the sling.... Nearly three hours afterwards he left the Goldene Alp between his guests.
He thrust the handkerchief into the Hungarian's hand, and felt a pain in his arm. 'There! he thought, 'I've strained a muscle. The Hungarian kept muttering, regardless of passers-by, "Swine! How you threw them over! Two or three cracked heads, anyway the cowardly swine!" "Look here!" said Swithin suddenly; "which is my way to the Goldene Alp?"
He seemed to tower, a gaunt shadow of a man, with gloomy, flickering eyes staring at the wall. Swithin rose, and stammered, "Much obliged very interesting." Boleskey made no effort to detain him, but continued staring at the wall. "Good-night!" said Swithin, and stamped heavily downstairs. When at last Swithin reached the Goldene Alp, he found his brother and friend standing uneasily at the door.
It happened when he was thirty-eight, for the first and only time in his life travelling on the Continent, with his twin-brother James and a man named Traquair. On the way from Germany to Venice, he had found himself at the Hotel Goldene Alp at Salzburg.
By the way, what hotel are you stopping at?" "The Goldene Esel." "How is it?" "Oh, so-so. Ask for oatmeal at breakfast and they send to the livery stable for a peck of oats and ask you please to be so kind as to show them how to make it." "My hotel is even worse. Last night I got into such a sweat under the big German feather bed that I had to throw it off.
Behmer analyzes from this standpoint the following works: “Beiträge zur geheimen Geschichte des menschlichen Verstandes und Herzens;” “Sokrates Mainomenos oder die Dialogen des Diogenes von Sinope;” “Der neue Amadis;” “Der goldene Spiegel;” “Geschichte des Philosophen Danischmende;” “Gedanken über eine alte Aufschrift;” “Geschichte der Abderiten.”
She jumped up from her seat and twirled round with a pout. An inspiration seized on Swithin. "Come and dine with me," he said to Boleskey, "to-morrow the Goldene Alp bring your friend." He felt the eyes of the whole room on him the Hungarian's fine eyes; Margit's wide glance; the narrow, hot gaze of Kasteliz; and lastly Rozsi's. A glow of satisfaction ran down his spine.
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