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Updated: June 16, 2025
"Here I am, Leopold!" the goose-girl cried, pressing her body against the bars and thrusting her hands through them. "The devil!" murmured the man in the other cell. "You here, Gretchen?" The king covered her hands with passionate kisses. "Yes, yes! They have made a dreadful mistake. You are no spy from Jugendheit." "No, Gretchen," said the voice from the next cell. "He is far worse than that.
She was a fine-looking girl enough, except that she squinted with one eye, and limped with one foot. As soon as she was married, this goose-girl, bitten by foolish ambition, dreamed of nothing but further greatness and splendour.
"Very well," replied the Costumer, picking some more cherries, "then your youngest daughter tends geese the rest of her life, that's all." The Mayor was in great distress; but the thought of his youngest daughter being a goose-girl all her life was too much for him. He gave in at last.
"Sword-sticks, sabers or hop-poles? Come," savagely, "what do you mean by the goose-girl?" So intent on the struggle were they that neither heard the door open and close. "Yes, my dear nephew; what do you mean by Gretchen?" Carmichael released the king, and with feline quickness stooped and secured the pistol which had fallen to the floor.
"Her serene highness is patron to Gretchen, the goose-girl, at whose request the recommendation was given me." This altered matters. "Follow me," said Hoffman. The two entered the office. "Can you write?" "A little, Herr." "Then write your name on this piece of paper and that. Each night you will present yours with the number of pounds, which will be credited to you.
The woman gave her two crowns a week to serve this morning meal. Gretchen would have cheerfully done the work for nothing. What the character of the woman's illness was Gretchen hadn't an idea, but there could be no doubt that she was ill, desperately, had the goose-girl but known it. Her face was thin and the bones were visible under the drum-like skin; her hands were merely claws.
And all this fine ambition tumbles down before the wooden shoes of a pretty goose-girl. Nothing makes so good a philosopher as a series of blunders and mistakes. I am beaten; I admit it. I did my best to save you from this tangle; but it was written that you should put your foot in it. But on top of this you have made a greater mistake than you dream of, nephew.
But there was a bulk in the doorway formidable enough to be worth serious contemplation. "What is going on here, little goose-girl?" asked the grizzled old man, folding his arms round his oak staff. "Herr Colonel insulted me." "Insulted you?" The colonel laughed boisterously. This was good; an officer insult a wench of this order! "Out of the way!" he snarled at the obstruction in the doorway.
I suppose it isn't ours till we've got it in our mouths. 'Or in our pockets, said Jane, thinking of the biscuits. 'Who puts mutton in their pockets, goose-girl? said Cyril. 'But I know at any rate, I'll try it! He leaned over the table with his face about an inch from it, and kept opening and shutting his mouth as if he were taking bites out of air.
Wallenstein, remaining where he was, laughed. Meantime the policeman frowned. It was incredible; his excellency could not possibly have intended any wrong, it was only a harmless pleasantry. Gretchen's lips quivered; the law of redress in Ehrenstein had no niche for the goose-girl. "Good evening, colonel," said Carmichael pleasantly. "Why can't your bandmaster give us light opera once in a while?"
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