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While we were sitting there at the counter, a train roared past the little station. We rushed to the door in alarm. But it shot through at the rate of fifty miles an hour. I looked at my watch. It still wanted half-an-hour of train time, according to the schedule. "It was the express, mein herr," explained the woman. "It never stops. We are too small yet. Some time we may be big enough."
"We want to know," he said sharply, "if you have seen the Army of the Potomac or heard anything of it." A look of deep sadness passed over the face of Jacob Onderdonk. "I haf one great veakness," he said, "one dot makes my life most bitter. I haf de poorest memory in de vorld. Somedimes I forget de face of mein own Vilhelmina.
He tried to recollect something else, but was equally unsuccessful; at last, he made up a sad mixture of swearing and praying. "Mein Gott a hundred tousand tyfels gut Gott twenty hundred tousand tyfels! Ah, Gott of mercy million of tyfels! holy Gott Jesus! twenty millions of tyfels Gott for dam, I die of cold!"
Christine appeared at a loss, for a moment, to comprehend his meaning; but, passing a hand across her fair brow she continued: "I think I understand what you would say, mein Herr," she said; "the world believes us to be without feeling and without hope.
"He has dodged his creditors three times; he has robbed them; I never stole a farthing; I am a cleverer fellow than he is " "Contenson, mein freund," said the Baron, "you haf vat you call pleed me of one tousand-franc note." "My girl owed God and the devil " "Vat, you haf a girl, a mistress!" cried Nucingen, looking at Contenson with admiration not unmixed with envy.
Mein Mann!" Presently she covered her face, and her voice died into a wail of despair: "O, mein Mann! O, mein Mann!" She turned away, staggering about like some creature that has received a death wound. Hal's eyes followed her; her cry, repeated over and over incessantly, became the leit-motif of this symphony of horror.
"Sappermint nein, Mein Herr; but he has just been to pay his respects to his Excellency the new Charge d'Affaires." In the name of all patience, I ask, who could endure this? From the hour of my arrival I am haunted by this one image the Charge d'Affaires.
"Mein Himmel!" thought I. "Am I dreaming? This isn't Wisconsin. This is Nurnberg, or Strassburg, with a dash of Heidelberg and Berlin thrown in. Dawn, old girl, it's going to be more instructive than a Cook's tour." That turned out to be the truest prophecy I ever made.
Could so depraved a creature as La Cibot exist? If Pons was right, it seemed to imply that there was no God in the world. He went right down again to Mme. Cibot. "Mein boor vriend Bons feel so ill," he said, "dat he vish to make his vill. Go und pring ein nodary." This was said in the hearing of several persons, for Cibot's life was despaired of.
Harz sent in his card, and asked to see "der Herr." The servant, a grey-eyed, clever-looking Swiss with no hair on his face, came back saying: "Der Herr, mein Herr, is in the Garden gone." Harz followed him. Herr Paul, a small white flannel cap on his head, gloves on his hands, and glasses on his nose, was watering a rosebush, and humming the serenade from Faust.
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