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Updated: May 23, 2025
He would gladly have helped the unfortunate woman, but to maintain the wretched mother and her twins imposed too heavy a burden upon the kind-hearted vagabond, and he had withdrawn his aid. Then the ropedancer met her. True, she herself was in danger of being left lying by the wayside; but she was alone, and the mother had her children.
The kindness which the lame ropedancer showed to the fragile child was lavishly returned to her by a thousand proofs of the warmest attachment. So Kuni had found one heart which kept its whole treasure of love for her alone, one creature who could not do without her, one fragile human plant to which she could be useful and helpful day and night.
Then the parched lips of the fevered woman lauded the merciful kindness bestowed by the lame ropedancer who at that moment seemed to her as powerful as a queen so warmly and tenderly that Kuni felt the blood again mount into her cheeks this time with shame at the praise which she deserved so little, yet which rendered her so happy.
A bitterness usually alien to her light, gay nature had taken possession of her, as, with the last glance she cast at Lienhard, she saw him bend low over the child and, with fiery ardour, whisper something which transformed the delicate pink flush in her cheeks to the hue of the poppy. Yes, the ropedancer was jealous of the laurel-crowned child.
She would make then realize what genuine art, skill, and daring could accomplish. Everything else, even the desire for applause, was forgotten. Though her performance might be called only a perilous feat, she felt it to be true, genuine art. Her whole soul was merged in the desire to execute, boldly and yet gracefully, the greatest and most perfect performance attainable by a ropedancer.
Besides, experience taught him that an offence would be more easily pardoned the more his master himself disliked the person against whom it was committed. The ropedancer, Kuni, really had been with the sick mother and her babes, and had toiled for them with the utmost diligence. The unfortunate woman was in great distress.
The vagrants tramped along the highway, one after another, without troubling themselves about the dying ropedancer. "Everybody finds it hard enough to bear his own cross," said Jungel, seizing his long crutches. Only "Dancing Gundel" lingered in Miltenberg through sympathy in the fate of the companion who had reached the height of fame, while she, the former "Phyllis," had gone swiftly downhill.
But the children who gazed at the four-footed artists, though they never failed to give hearty applause, frequently paid in no other coin. He would gladly have helped the unfortunate woman, but to maintain the wretched mother and her twins imposed too heavy a burden upon the kind-hearted vagabond, and he had withdrawn his aid. Then the ropedancer met her.
She would make then realize what genuine art, skill, and daring could accomplish. Everything else, even the desire for applause, was forgotten. Though her performance might be called only a perilous feat, she felt it to be true, genuine art. Her whole soul was merged in the desire to execute, boldly and yet gracefully, the greatest and most perfect performance attainable by a ropedancer.
The kindness which the lame ropedancer showed to the fragile child was lavishly returned to her by a thousand proofs of the warmest attachment. So Kuni had found one heart which kept its whole treasure of love for her alone, one creature who could not do without her, one fragile human plant to which she could be useful and helpful day and night.
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