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Updated: May 3, 2025
The orchestra began the overture, and for a few hours Jean-Christophe would swim in happiness, troubled only by the idea that it must soon come to an end. Some time after that a musical event brought even more excitement into Jean-Christophe's thoughts. Francois Marie Hassler, the author of the first opera which had so bowled him over, was to visit the town.
Not that he had any pleasure in Jean-Christophe's anger; on the contrary, it made him unhappy but he felt his power by making Jean-Christophe suffer. He was not bad; he had the soul of a girl. In spite of his promises, he continued to appear arm in arm with Franz or some other comrade. They made a great noise between them, and he used to laugh in an affected way.
All was well, and nothing would have been known, but that one day Ernest, his younger brother, betrayed Jean-Christophe's midnight sallies. From that moment they were forbidden, and he was watched. But he contrived to escape, and he preferred the society of the little peddler and his friends to any other. His family was scandalized. Melchior said that he had the tastes of a laborer.
She closed the door. They were alone. She ran to him, took his hand, and dragged him into the little room next door; its shutters were closed. Then she put her face up to Jean-Christophe's and kissed him wildly. With tears in her eyes she said: "You promise you promise that you will love me always?" They sobbed quietly, and made convulsive efforts to choke their sobs down so as not to be heard.
He despised him a little, and thought himself superior. Jean-Christophe, for his part, resented Otto's receiving blows without revolting. They no longer saw each other with the eyes of those first days. Their failings showed up in full light. Otto found Jean-Christophe's independence less charming. Jean-Christophe was a tiresome companion when they went walking.
The boy used to listen with profound respect, and he thought his grandfather very eloquent, but a little tiresome. Both of them loved to return again and again to the fabulous legend of the Corsican conqueror who had taken Europe. Jean-Christophe's grandfather had known him. He had almost fought against him. But he was a man to admit the greatness of his adversaries: he had said so twenty times.
He talked noisily, and roared with laughter at his own jokes, and he never noticed his wife's glances as she gave a forced laugh, while she watched him helping himself. When he passed the dish it was more than half empty. Louisa helped the children two potatoes each. When it came to Jean-Christophe's turn there were sometimes only three left, and his mother was not helped.
Not only did he approve of his father having put together Jean-Christophe's inspirations, but, to the boy's great surprise, he spent several evenings in making two or three copies of his manuscript.
Melchior swore angrily, and his wrath only had the effect of making Jean-Christophe's tears flow faster.
Old Jean Michel was jealous of Jean-Christophe's affection for Gottfried, and used to lecture him about lowering himself so far as to like such vulgar company when he had the honor of mixing with the best people and of being the servant of princes. It was considered that Jean-Christophe was lacking in dignity and self-respect.
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