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Updated: May 19, 2025
They agreed to make the visit on the following day in the morning, before school. Gretchen told her foster-mother the story of the Indian pony. "Where is he now?" asked Mrs. Woods. "I left him in the clearing. I will go and find him." "I will go with you," said Mrs. Woods. The two went out together.
'Never! answered Jerrie sadly. 'I told you she was dead. But sit here, and she motioned him to a large cushioned chair. 'Sit here and let me tell you what I know of Gretchen. Something in the girl's manner mastered him and made him a child in her hands. Sinking into the chair, pale and panting with excitement, he leaned his head back wearily, and closing his eyes, said to her: 'Begin.
I went back to my pile of lava, in a state of silent awe. The evidence was unanswerable, overwhelming! In a few moments, however, my thoughts were far away, back in my German home, with Gretchen and the old cook. What would I have given for one of my cousin's smiles, for one of the ancient domestic's omelettes, and for my own feather bed! How long I remained in this state I know not.
Spring had come when it was "fit to travel," as Gretchen said. The green of the landscape was brilliant and uniform; the turf sown with primrose, violet, anemone, veronica, and buttercups. It was time for me to leave; neither could I be persuaded to stay till the meeting of the Landsgemeinde.
It seemed strange to him that he had not noticed it at first, the almost Hanoverian purity of her speech and the freedom with which she spoke. The average peasant is diffident, with a vocabulary of few words, ignorant of art or music or where the world lay. "What is your name?" "Gretchen." "It is a good name; it is famous, too." "Goethe used it." "So he did."
The libretto, by MM. Barbier and Carré does not of course claim to represent Goethe's play in any way. The authors had little pretension to literary skill, but they knew their business thoroughly. They fastened upon the episode of Gretchen, and threw all the rest overboard.
They still carry the bucket and the pole, hoping yet dreading to meet their parents. They fear that their parents think they ran away from their task. But try as hard as they can, Mani keeps them from finding the way back to earth. German More than a thousand years ago, on a Sunday morning in the early fall, an old German woodman told his wife, Gretchen, that he was going after fagots.
When the room became so dark that I could see the hands no longer, I counted the strokes of the pendulum, and told the quarters off upon my fingers. When at length my father came back, it was past five o'clock, and dark as midnight. "Quick, quick, little Gretchen," he said, pulling off his hat and gloves, and unbuckling his sword. "A glass of kirsch, and more logs on the fire!
No, Gretchen, I am willing you should play on the violin, though some of the Methody do not approve of that; and that you should finger the musical glasses in the evening they have a religious sound and soothe me, like; but the reading of poetry and novels I never did countenance, except Methody hymns and the 'Fool of Quality, and as for the writing of poetry, it is a Boston notion and an ornary habit.
"It is very kind of Your Highness," said the innkeeper, laughing maliciously. "But I am old, and my memory serves me ill." The Prince shrugged. "But we have drifted away from the present matter. Your Highness, then, promises to bend to the will of the King?" "Yes," said Gretchen. "I gave the King my promise because I had wearied of resistance, having no one to turn to then.
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