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Updated: May 12, 2025
My father is Karl Strehla. We live in Hall, in the Innthal; and Hirschvogel has been ours so long, so long!" His lips quivered with a broken sob. "And have you truly travelled inside this stove all the way from Tyrol?" "Yes," said August; "no one thought to look inside till you did." The king laughed; then another view of the matter occurred to him.
Nothing was known of the stove at this latter day in Hall. The grandfather Strehla, who had been a master-mason, had dug it up out of some ruins where he was building, and, finding it without a flaw, had taken it home, and only thought it worth finding because it was such a good one to burn.
Dorothea was a girl of seventeen, dark-haired and serious, and with a sweet sad face, for she had had many cares laid on her shoulders, even whilst still a mere baby. She was the eldest of the Strehla family, and there were ten of them in all.
August did not heed his father's silence: he was used to it. Karl Strehla was a man of few words, and, being of weakly health, was usually too tired at the end of the day to do more than drink his beer and sleep.
Strehla flung the emptied jug on the bricks with a force that shivered it to atoms, and, rising to his feet, struck his son a blow that felled him to the floor. It was the first time in all his life that he had ever raised his hand against any one of his children. Then he took the oil-lamp that stood at his elbow and stumbled off to his own chamber with a cloud before his eyes.
"I!" said August "You shall never have it! you shall kill me first!" "Strehla," said the big man, as August's father entered the room, "you have got a little mad dog here: muzzle him." One way and another they did muzzle him. He fought like a little demon, and hit out right and left, and one of his blows gave the Bavarian a black eye.
"You shall never have it! you shall kill me first!" "Strehla," said the big man as August's father entered the room, "you have got a little mad dog here; muzzle him." One way and another they did muzzle him. He fought like a little demon, and hit out right and left, and one of his blows gave the Bavarian a black eye.
"Sold Hirschvogel!" If their father had dashed the holy crucifix on the floor at their feet and spat on it, they could not have shuddered under the horror of a greater blasphemy. "I have sold Hirschvogel!" said Karl Strehla, in the same husky, dogged voice. "I have sold it to a travelling trader in such things for two hundred florins. What would you? I owe double that.
My father is Hans Strehla. We live in Hall, in the Innthal; and Hirschvogel has been ours so long so long!" His lips quivered with a broken sob. "And have you truly travelled inside this stove all the way from Tyrol?" "Yes," said August; "no one thought to look inside till you did." The king laughed; then another view of the matter occurred to him.
"I!" said August. "You shall never have it! you shall kill me first!" "Strehla," said the big man, as August's father entered the room, "you have got a little mad dog here: muzzle him." One way and another they did muzzle him. He fought like a little demon, and hit out right and left, and one of his blows gave the Bavarian a black eye.
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