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Updated: May 4, 2025
Susanna, plain and a little crotchety, who had never had a sweetheart to coax the thin lips into smiles. The little ones for so they seemed to long, lanky Ulrich, with their pleasant ways Ulrich smiled as he thought of them how should a man love one more than another? The Herr Pfarrer shook his head and sighed. "That is not love. Gott in Himmel! think what it would lead to?
On 8 December the feast of the Conception of the Virgin, as they passed through a village, the two priests asked leave to say a mass for themselves in the parish church; and only with difficulty obtained it from the pfarrer in charge, so great was the jealousy between seculars and regulars.
While, as for the "culte systématique de l'Humanité," I, in my blindness, could not distinguish it from sheer Popery, with M. Comte in the chair of St. Peter, and the names of most of the saints changed. To quote "Faust" again, I found myself saying with Gretchen, "Ungefähr sagt das der Pfarrer auch Nur mit ein bischen andern Worten."
Ulrich stole closer. It was the Herr Pfarrer, praying volubly but inaudibly. He scrambled to his feet as Ulrich touched him, and his first astonishment over, poured forth his tale of woe. There had been trouble since Ulrich's departure. A French corps of observation had been camped upon the hill, and twice within the month had a French soldier been found murdered in the woods.
Back in the Hungarian village she had fallen in love with the son of a rich farmer, quite in Hermann and Dorothea fashion; but alas, in this case there had been no "gute verstandige Mutter" and no "wurdiger Pfarrer" instead there had been a hateful step-mother, and so the "treffliches Madchen" had had to come away.
The Herr Pfarrer stretched his hand across the table and laid it upon Ulrich's arm. "It is Hedwig; twice you walked home with her last week." "It is a lonesome way for a timid maiden; and there is the stream to cross," explained the wheelwright. For a moment the Herr Pastor's face had clouded, but now it cleared again. "Well, well, why not?
The good God has given to you ample means. It is not right that you should lead this lonely life. Bachelors make old maids; things of no use." "That is so," Ulrich agreed. "I have often said the same unto myself. It would be pleasant to feel one was not working merely for oneself." "Elsa, now," went on the Herr Pfarrer, "she is a good child, pious and economical.
The Herr Pfarrer sighed and hid his broad red face behind the raised cover of his pewter pot. "They must be good fun in a house, the little ones," commented Ulrich, gazing upward with his dreamy eyes at the wreath of smoke ascending from his long-stemmed pipe. "The little ones, always my heart goes out to them." "Take to yourself a wife," urged the Herr Pfarrer. "It is your duty.
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