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Updated: May 25, 2025
This was a very fine room indeed, and even though it was not as cozy as the back room for which Hofer bad longed, it was at all events very agreeable to him to be once more under a hospitable roof, and enjoy a little rest and tranquillity. In the middle of the room stood a table handsomely festooned with flowers, and covered with bottles of wine, cake, and all sorts of fruit.
Andreas Hofer remained alone with his confessor. At eleven o'clock the doors of the prison were thrown open, and Andreas Hofer was led out to execution. His face was serene, and in his hands he held the small crucifix which he had always worn on his breast. His confessor, Manifesti, walked by his side, and a battalion of grenadiers followed him.
She was educated at the public schools, went to the University for a year, had two more in Europe, and came back with what they call presence and style, but is just cheek dressed up. She hadn't much show socially, but she didn't lose any time capturing Nicolas Hofer, the son of a German emigrant, who made money in the commission business which his sons have turned into millions.
The tragedy drew to a close. Hofer returned to his native vale, where the people of Passeyr and Algund, resolved at all hazards not to submit to the depredations of the Italian brigands under Rusca, flocked around him and compelled him to place himself at their head for a last and desperate struggle.
He watched the great affairs then being transacted in Europe with the ardent interest of his youth, and his sonnets to Liberty, commemorating the attack by France upon the Swiss, the fate of Venice, the struggle of Hofer, the resistance of Spain, give no unworthy expression to some of the best of the many and varied motives that animated England in her long struggle with Bonaparte.
But there must never be more than six guests, for it would be too bad if I, who intend to preserve the Tyrol to the emperor, were to cost him a great deal of money here. Andreas Hofer remained in these days of his splendor as active, industrious, and simple as he always had been.
Hofer capriciously changed her mind, and decided to make a dramatic descent with Isabel upon the house of a friend whom she knew to be entertaining informally, and where she was always sure of a welcome. The house was out at The Mission, a generic term in these days for the valley under the shadow of Twin Peaks, so sparsely populated by the padres.
Hofer was far too impatient to wait a year perhaps two, if there were strikes to take up her abode on Nob Hill, and the Polk House was in the market. Perhaps something in the stolid uncompromising exterior of the old barrack appealed to her irresistibly, mausoleum that it was of an aristocratic past. But upon the interior she wasted no sentiment, and some half a million of her husband's dollars.
Andreas Hofer, who had in the mean time relapsed into his silent astonishment, gazed fixedly upon the stage. Baron von Hormayr left his place quietly and walked to the entrance. He slipped a florin into the hand of the doorkeeper, who was leaning against the wall.
"You do not see, then, that you are rushing upon your own destruction?" he asked. "You are intent on rendering your wife and children unhappy? You are bent on incurring the most imminent peril?" "I will incur it courageously," said Hofer, kindly. "I know very well that what I am about to do is not prudent, but it is right.
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