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Updated: May 19, 2025
"Sit down by my feet, my child," he said to Gretchen, or in words of this meaning. "I have been thinking what it is that makes the music in the violin. Let us talk together, for something whispers in the leaves that my days are almost done." "Let me get the violin and play to you, father; we are alone." "Yes, yes; get the music, child, and you shall play, and we will talk.
Music poured from her lips as from the throat of a nightingale. The words she sang were Norwegian, and her listeners understood nothing of them; but the melody, the pathetic appealing melody, soul-moving as all true melody must be, touched the very core of their hearts, and entangled them in a web of delicious reveries. "Talk of Ary Scheffer's Gretchen!" murmured Lorimer with a sigh.
It was the vintner who caused this cry; and the agility with which he scrambled through the window into the blind alley was an inspiration. "After him!" yelled the officer. "He is probably the one rare bird in the bunch." But they searched in vain. Gretchen stared ruefully at the blank window.
He tightened the pressure of his arm upon the small of her back to rest her. "We belong to each other," he said. "Yes." "Then why shouldn't we belong to each other altogether?" "But " she faltered. "I know it's a lot to ask," he said; "but there's not much risk for you really not in the Gretchen way. You can trust me there?" "Oh, I can trust you." The answer came quick and strong.
That is the kind of propriety that they teach out in these parts, is it? and the master came from Harvard College, too! One would think that this world was just made to enjoy one's self in, just like a sheep pasture, where the lambs go hopping and skipping, not knowing that they were born to be fleeced." She hurried Gretchen away excitedly, and the school turned back.
For three months they lived together in the Austrian Tyrol; then Gretchen, heeding at last the persistent call of her art, left him, and fled back to Berlin, where she obtained an engagement to play Juliet. It was from that moment that her real passion for her part developed. It grew to be an obsession she was fêted, lauded, mentioned in several public speeches.
"All this time Fiddles was looking about the dining-room of the inn, taking in the supper-table, the rows of mugs, especially the landlady, who was frightened half out of her wits by Cocked Hat's presence, and more especially still little Gretchen such a plump, rosy-cheeked, blue-eyed little Dutch girl with two Marguerite pig-tails down her back.
The best places were filled with noisy talkers and eaters, who stared at her indifferently, and it was not until Gretchen Wyker, tow-haired, pimpled, and short-necked like her father, chose to do so, that she finally pointed out a chair at a shabby side table and waved her empty tin waiter toward it.
Gretchen deliberately rolled up her sleeves and began work. There are three things which human growth never changes: the lines in the hand, the shape of the ear, and scars. The head grows, and the general features enlarge to their predestined mold, but these three things remain.
Is there not a touch of Gretchen in Cressid, retiring into her chamber to ponder over the first revelation to her of the love of Troilus? Cressid arose, no longer there she stayed, But straight into her closet went anon, And set her down, as still as any stone, And every word gan up and down to wind, That he had said, as it came to her mind.
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