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Updated: May 12, 2025
"I thought you would be so kind ... if it isn't putting you out too much ... as to put me up for a day " Braun did not let him finish. "A day!... Twenty days, fifty, as long as you like. As long as you are in this country you shall stay in our house: and I hope you will stay for a long time. It is an honor and a great happiness for us." Christophe was overwhelmed by his kind words.
Beethoven had gone to live in the theatre building for the purpose of working on the opera for Schikaneder, but early in 1804 the Theater an der Wien passed out of his hands into those of Baron von Braun. The intervening summer had been passed by the composer at Baden and Unter Dobling in work upon the "Eroica" symphony. The check upon the operatic project was but temporary.
"I shall be rich," he mused, "and I will follow her to the end of the earth until I read the secret of those wonderful eyes." He little dreamed that even before he had paid Lilienthal the cheque, a carriage had stopped for a moment before Magdal's Pharmacy, and Mr. Fritz Braun had heard, with a wild delight, the whispered words, "The game is won; he will come!"
While you were talking to Uncle Braun and the new cousin, papa said that he would stop here on his way from Cassel and bring it home with him, and he will bring the bird cage and bird for sister. So we will have only our knapsacks as we had when we came. He said for me to put the tin horn and the grater in the satchel and not come through our village looking like a traveling tinker.
He didn't think "hot" meant "significant," either. When he'd hung up the phone he said curtly: "When will your work crew get here?" "Early but not yet," said Joe. "Not for some time yet." "Go with the pilot," said the Major. "You'd recognize what Braun meant as soon as anybody. See what you see." Joe stood up. "You think the tip is straight?"
He began to weep. The professor's countenance changed to a devilish expression when he heard this lament. He despised the lamenting Hebrew. "You are going back?" he thundered. "But you won't go back! Don't shame yourself!" The Hebrew gazed at him stupidly. "I live in Rottenbiller Street," he stammered. "My name is Joseph Braun." He bit his nails in his nervous agitation. Tears filled his eyes.
The magnificence of the carved work upon the portal charmed the boys, and when they entered they were filled with admiration of the splendid stained glass windows and the grand paintings. They stood for some time gazing at the monument of the Emperor Gunther of Schwartzburg, and Uncle Braun informed them that he was the only emperor who had been buried there.
Up to that moment I cannot tell why something an unaccountable dread had prevented me looking at the door. I made an effort and looked. It was shut, and through the cracks and through the keyhole I saw the glimmer of a light. Braun had lit his candle. I called him, not very loudly: there was no answer. I called again more loudly: there was still no answer.
And the traitor hastened away to entrap Braun, little dreaming that the acute druggist would never trust himself to the hands of the "gang" at Hamburg. Randall Clayton had been startled by Madame Raffoni's eager disclosure as he approached the place of rendezvous.
Fraeulein Ottilie Braun also came, and Margaret would probably have seen her, but had not given any special orders, so the kindly little person trotted off, and Margaret knew nothing of her coming; and the day wore on quickly; and when she wanted to go out, it at once began to rain furiously; and, at last, in sheer impatience at everything, she telephoned to Logotheti, asking him to come and dine alone with her if he felt that he could put up with her temper, which, she explained, was atrocious.
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