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Updated: May 5, 2025
"Yes, I had thought of that," he said brightly, almost. "Yes! Himself, his wife, four children one cabin might do. Whereas if his niece went..." "And what does Mrs. Hermann say to it?" I inquired. Mrs. Hermann did not know whether a man of that sort could make a girl happy she had been greatly deceived in Captain Falk. She had been very upset last night.
On December 8, 1832, he wrote to a friend: “I am now at work on a poem of life among the gentry, in the style of Hermann and Dorothea. I have already jotted down a thousand verses.” He had evidently planned a village idyl of no great length, probably based on the love of Thaddeus and Zosia.
It was not to be expected of Jacob Heemskerk, Wolfert Hermann, or Joris van Spilberg, indomitable skippers though they were, that each, acting on his own responsibility or on that of his supercargo, would succeed every day in conquering a whole Spanish fleet and dividing a million or two of prize- money among a few dozen sailors.
These Hermann and Fritz had made themselves with the aid, I believe, of the Herr Baron. They had a long stick and punted about in them on the water, and they managed them quite cleverly. To Trudel and Lottchen they seemed to suggest Robinson Crusoe and all sorts of fine adventures.
I thought it might be her farcically pompous way of announcing my father's return, and looked pleased, I suppose, for she added, 'Do you know Prince Hermann? He spends most of his time in Eberhardstadt. He is cousin of the King, a wealthy branch; tant soit peu philosophe, a ce qu'on dit; a traveller. They say he has a South American complexion.
One of my girls a daughter of Hermann Paul, the rich San Francisco railroad man, you know tells me that this Davis fellow is of most ordinary people, what is called a 'bounder, you know. Adelle naturally did not meet him here, but at the studio of one of her friends.
He had scanty hair, of a pale yellow, parted just above the ear, so as to enable him to brush it over the top of his head. This personage, clad in a double-breasted surtout, over a white waistcoat, and wearing a many-colored rosette, was called Hermann Herzog.
The generals and privy counsellors left their whist in order to watch such extraordinary play. The young officers quitted their sofas, and even the servants crowded into the room. All pressed round Hermann. The other players left off punting, impatient to see how it would end. Hermann stood at the table, and prepared to play alone against the pale, but still smiling Chekalinsky.
"You once had a brother named Hans." Hermann grew rigid in his chair. "I have no brother," he replied, his voice dull and empty. "Perhaps not now," continued Grumbach, "but you did have." Hermann's head drooped. "My God, yes, I did have a brother; but he was a scoundrel." Grumbach lighted a cigar. He did not offer one to Hermann, who would have refused it. "Perhaps he was a scoundrel.
It would be seen that Hermann despised the Pope, the Emperor, and the Oecumenical Council already assembled at Trent. He set his own authority above all councils, although they had been instituted by the common consent of Christendom, and he appealed to a lawless, headless council which might only meet at Bonn or at Schmalkald, in order that it might be unrestrained by any authority whatever.
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