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In the middle of these monsters browses Germany, very white and woolly-haired and loveable, a little lamb among the nations, artlessly only wanting to love and be loved, weak physically compared to its towering neighbours, but strong in simplicity and the knowledge of its gute Recht.
She spoke rapidly and I would listen with the closest attention, only to give up in despair, and to say, "Gute Nacht," evening after evening, with my head buzzing and my mind a blank.
Sometimes it would be simply "Nicht Verbrennen," sometimes only "Gute Leute," but always that piece of German script was enough to save that house, though to the right and left of it were ruins. On several of the saved houses the name of the German officer was scribbled who gave the order to spare. About one hundred houses were chalked in the way I have described.
Billeting officers had gone from house to house, chalking upon the doors such legends as "Drei Männer," "6 Offiziere Eingang verboten," and, on rare occasions "Gute Leute hier." The trembling inhabitants had been forced to wait on their uninvited guests as they clamoured noisily for wine and liqueurs.
"Gute alte Valkyrie!.. gute alte Valkyrie!" he murmured. Safe so far. At the outside of the dock-gate Hoppner waited my arrival. He was interested in the kümmel, and in the pistols, which were pawnable. He had been more daring than I. He had tried to pick his captain's pocket of a gold watch while the latter slept. But every time he reached for it the captain stirred uneasily.
"No, and on second thoughts, I don't care to hear it now. Another time. Good night!" "Ah! the gentleman is too good! Thousand thanks! Gute Nacht, gnaediger Herr!" Gethryn remained looking at the crags. "They cannot be half a mile from here," he thought. "I suppose the path is good enough; if not, I can turn back. The lake will look well from there by moonlight."
Frieda was intent upon seeing that no harm was done her belongings, which were piled up about her, umbrella, hand-bags, a carryall, a shawl-strap, a brown linen roll with Gute Reise embroidered on it, and a long trunk with rounded edges.
This slight work is written for the most part in couplets and covers twenty-three pages. Wezel represents Doktor Young, the author of the gloomy “Night Thoughts” and “Der gute Lacher, Lorenz Sterne” as occupying positions side by side in his book-case.
By three o'clock I noticed that the pointer on the aneroid barometer, that instrument that has a kind of spiritual fineness of feeling, had moved a tenth of an inch upward. I gave the order to start. The other parties said, "Good for your pluck! Bon voyage, gute reise," and went to bed. In an hour we had ascended one thousand feet and down again to the glacier. The sky was brilliant.
We walked home as far as his house, or rather his apartment over one of the village stores; and as he mounted to it by an outside staircase, we exchanged a joyous "Gute Nacht," and I kept on homeward through the dark and silent village street, which was really not that street, but some other, where Heine had been, some street out of the Reisebilder, of his knowledge, or of his dream.
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