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Updated: June 14, 2025
This met with noisy approval, and albeit I and my dear Hans, and some others with us, made protest, the damsels were presently seated in a circle and Jorg Loffelholz, who was chosen to preside, asked of each to pronounce sentence.
There was a hearth for cooking in the hut, and two rooms, one large and one small, for in summer the charcoal-burners' wives and children live with them. The travellers needed rest and refreshment, and might have found both here, had not fear embittered the food and driven sleep from their weary eyes. Jorg was to return early the next morning with a team of horses. This was a great consolation.
His brother Jorg wandered about here in a disreputable way for several years, never working, but in the hope of getting something, by his infamous behavior, out of his family, who were respectable people, quite unlike himself.
The road now led down towards the valley, and, after a short walk, the charcoal-burner said: "We shall find shelter below with Jorg, and a warm fire too, you poor women." These were cheering words, and came just at the right time, for large snow-flakes began to fill the air, and a light breeze drove them into the travellers' faces.
At this time the office was filled by Albert Ebner and Jorg Stromer, whilst in the secret council formed by seven of the older gentlemen, as the highest executive authority, Hans Schtirstab as the second and Berthold Vorchtel as first Losunger filled the chief offices.
Marx had gone out to reconnoitre in a more cheerful mood, for the doctor had made good the loss sustained in the death of his old nag, and he returned at noon with good news. A wood-carrier, whom he met on the high-road, had told him where Jorg, the charcoal-burner, lived. The fugitives could reach his hut before night, and in so doing approach nearer the Rhine valley.
Old Jorg attended me, and when I am gone forth again Dame Maud will speak my 'eulogium'. Only look at her! But it is all one to me. Find me a place, Herdegen, where I may speak with you and Ann Spiesz alone. I have a message for you."
You'll risk your neck, and the fifteen florins. . . . Will you go shares? Yes or no?" "Heaven's thunder!" murmured the poacher, his crooked mouth watering." How much is half of fifteen florins?" "About seven, I should say." "A calf and a pig." "A swine for the Jew, that will suit. You'll keep him here in the trap." "I can't, Jorg; by my soul, I can't! Let me alone!"
The lad looked like a young nobleman, and the peasants would take earnest-money from him. If he, Jorg, should show them florins, it would get him into a fine scrape. The people knew he was as poor as a beggar. The smith asked the poacher's opinion, and the latter growled: "That will, doubtless, be a good plan."
The road now led down towards the valley, and, after a short walk, the charcoal-burner said: "We shall find shelter below with Jorg, and a warm fire too, you poor women." These were cheering words, and came just at the right time, for large snow-flakes began to fill the air, and a light breeze drove them into the travellers' faces.
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