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Updated: May 15, 2025
All about her she could feel the smoothness of a falling trap. Mart smiled still more broadly. "Look here, Olga, don't get so warm over it. You're nervous now. Tell the gentlemen who made those tracks." She turned to Munn desperately. "What do you want to know for?" she asked him. The sharpness of her voice roused old Mrs. Brenner, drowsing in her corner. "Blood!" she cried suddenly.
But there was apparently always a considerable cash balance to be paid to the Oriental merchants, since the West could not produce enough to pay by exchange for all that it demanded from the Orient. The northern merchants dealt mainly with Venice and brought their wares across the Brenner Pass and down the Rhine, or sent them by sea to be exchanged in Flanders.
Fra Battista had been quietly ridded the very next morning: unfrocked, he took the way of the Brenner and the mountains, and Veronese history knows nothing further certainly of him.
Brenner stood motionless, with her hand against her trembling lips, her head bent forward for four of the dull intervals between the siren-call. Then there came the sound of steps stumbling around the house. Mrs. Brenner, with her painful hobble, reached the door before the steps paused there, and threw it open.
He filled up the courier's glass again, half wine, half water. The courier sat heavily down in a chair. "I take the liberty, gentlemen," said he. "I am no better than a dung-heap to sit beside gentlemen. But indeed I can stand no longer. Never have I stridden across such vile slaughter-house cattle as they keep for travellers on the Brenner road. I have sprained my legs with spurring 'em.
You are going to sunny Italy, our friends had said: as soon as you pass the Brenner you will have sunshine and delightful weather. This thought consoled us, but did not warm our feet. The Germans, when they travel by rail, wrap themselves in furs and carry foot-sacks. We creaked along, with many stoppings. At two o'clock we were at Rosenheim.
His teeth chattered and he crouched down on his knees before the open oven-door. "I'm cold," he complained. Mrs. Brenner came close to him and laid her hand on his wet, matted hair. "Tobey's a bad boy," she scolded. "You mustn't go out in the wet like this. Your hair's soaked." She got down stiffly on her lame knees. "Sit down," she ordered, "and I'll take off your shoes.
The Tyrolese should chase the Bavarians and the French in this manner from Botzen to Brixen, up the Brenner, and thence down to Trent. Now, friend Hormayr, repeat the remaining four points." "The eighth point is: The removal of the Bavarian treasure must be prevented by all means.
The proud mother saw her fortune squandered, and her pride massacred. She died some years later. Franz Anton's heart was too industrious to remain idle long, and, though he was now fifty years of age, he somehow won the hand of Genofeva von Brenner, who was only sixteen years old. It is gratuitous to say that the young girl was not happy.
Poverty, avarice, and evil passions had minted Mart Brenner like a devil's coin. His shaggy head lowered in his powerful shoulders. His long arms, apelike, hung almost to his knees. Behind him the fog pressed in, and his rough, bristly hair was beaded with diamonds of moisture. "Well?" he snapped. A sardonic smile twisted his face. "Caught you, didn't I?" He strode forward.
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