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Updated: May 19, 2025
"Let him run away, father dear, and don't run after him!" whispered I, putting my arms coaxingly about his neck. "But 'tis some cursed mess of politics at bottom, depend on't!" continued my father, still talking to himself. "Ah, you don't know what politics are, my little Gretchen! so much the better for you!" "I do know what politics are," replied I, with great dignity.
By and by she said; "Keep faith with me, and I promise to love as few women can." Then I kissed her lips. "Gretchen?" "What is it?" "I have an idea that we shall be very happy. Now let us go and make terms of peace with the innkeeper." We found him alone in the barroom. "Gretchen," said I, "read this note." As her eyes ran over those six words, she blushed.
But she did not know Frank Tracy or guess how great was his anxiety lest any message should ever reach a friend of Gretchen, if friend there were living.
Come, Gretchen. You will have to hurry, for it is quite late," called their mother. It was one morning about a week after Christmas. "Oh dear, I am so sleepy, and my bed is nice and warm," thought Bertha. But she jumped up and rubbed her eyes and began to dress, without waiting to be called a second time. Her mother was kind and loving, but she had taught her children to obey without a question.
Just so she used to come in with her light footstep and soft voice, so much like yours. Where is she, Cherry, that she never comes nor writes? Where is Gretchen now? His chin quivered as he talked, and there was a moisture in his eyes, bent so fondly upon the young girl beside him.
"I insist. This thing must be righted publicly." "And I was thinking that the man I loved was a coward!" "I am braver than you dream, Gretchen." And in truth he was, for he was about to set forth for the lion's den, and only amazing cleverness could extricate him. Man never enters upon the foolhardy unless it be to dazzle a woman. And the vintner's love for Gretchen was no passing thing.
We had set them down as too old, grave, and wise, for at least the preliminary stages. And although it is not an unnatural thing that Ellesmere should have got over his affection for the German Gretchen, whose story is so exquisitely told in the Companions of my Solitude, we find it harder to reconcile Milverton's marriage with our previous impression of him.
"Feed him and his horse, and I'll undertake to get rid of him before that detestable Steinbock comes. Besides, he might prove a valuable witness in drawing up the papers." "I never thought of that. It will not do to trust Steinbock wholly." Gretchen turned her searching eyes once more upon me. I confess that I had some difficulty in steadying my own.
I have lost my way, it would seem; I am hungry and tired. To ride six miles farther now is a physical impossibility; and I am very fond of my horse." "He says he is hungry, Gretchen," said the English girl, dropping easily into the French language as a vehicle of speech. "We can not always tell a gentleman in the candle-light," replied Gretchen, eying me critically and shrewdly and suspiciously.
I saw it all now, the beautiful house in the Konigstrasse, my poor Gretchen, the good Martha; they all passed before my mind like visions of the past. Every time any of the lugubrious groanings which were to be distinguished in the hollows around fell upon my ears, I fancied I heard the distant murmur of the great cities above my head.
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