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The summer in Quedlinburg was a delightful season of mingled work and pleasure. An Easter journey through the Hartz with some gay companions, which included an ascent of the Brocken already once climbed from Keilhau is among my most delightful memories. Like the Thuringian Mountains, the Hartz are also wreathed with a garland of legends and historical memories.
Still, one would have thought that the pictures of the Quedlinburg book would have saved it, even in a German nunnery.
I still remember with pleasure Steuerwald's beautiful winter landscapes, into which he so cleverly introduced the mediaeval ruins of the Hartz region. Thus, Quedlinburg was well suited to arouse poetic feelings in young hearts, steep the soul with love for the beautiful, time-honoured region, and yet fill it with the desire to make distant lands its own.
The summer in Quedlinburg was a delightful season of mingled work and pleasure. An Easter journey through the Hartz with some gay companions, which included an ascent of the Brocken already once climbed from Keilhau is among my most delightful memories. Like the Thuringian Mountains, the Hartz are also wreathed with a garland of legends and historical memories.
"You speak of my errand," said Hans von Quedlinburg, "as if you imagine I come seeking favors. I am here incidentally to rescue you and your party from the clutches of an outlaw. The Turkish officials who are with me have authority to arrest everybody in this place, yourselves included. Fortunately I am able to modify that. Kagig that rascal beside you is a well-known agitator. He is a criminal.
"She and her party took fright this afternoon, and have taken to the hills. They are farther ahead than this pig dreamed" once more he kicked Von Quedlinburg "more than a day's march ahead from here." "Then we'll hunt for her first," said Monty, and the rest of us nodded assent. Kagig grinned. "You shall find her. You shall see a castle. In the castle where you find her you shall choose again!
"You do not know yet the depths of this man's infamy!" he said. "The world professes to loathe Turks who rob, sell and murder women and children. What of a German a foreigner in Turkey, who instigates the murder and the robbery and the burning and the butchery for his own ends, or for his bloody country's ends? This man is an instigator!" "You lie!" snarled Von Quedlinburg.
And his coat had been so scorched in the fierce heat that the whole of one side of it broke off, like a cinder slab. This time Hans von Quedlinburg obeyed. For one thing the pain of his burns was beginning to tell on him, but he could see, too, that he had lost prestige with his party. "Throw down your weapons!" he ordered savagely.
Here the portrait of the blooming, beautiful husk of a soul exulting in haughty arrogance; yonder that husk itself, transformed by the hand of death into a rigid, colourless caricature, a mummy without embalming. Art, too, had a place in Quedlinburg.
But, best of all, was my home in Quedlinburg, the house of my tutor, Professor Adalbert Schmidt, an admirable man of forty, who seemed extremely gentle and yielding, but when necessary could be very peremptory, and allowed those under his charge to make no trespass on his authority. His wife was a model of amiable, almost timid womanliness.
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