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Updated: May 24, 2025
Although her eyes were wide open, she did not seem to see her mother's terrified, excited mien, nor her burning, piercing looks, so full of entreaty. "Listen!" Mrs. Tiralla's voice sounded almost fierce as she shouted to the child. All at once a convulsive movement passed over Rosa's face. Her mother bent over her, lower and lower, full of trembling eagerness.
Then she would have rushed downstairs and calmly, quite calmly, poured some of the white powder into his half-open mouth whilst he was lying in his bed snoring. It would have acted, she felt sure of that. The saints would not let innocent animals die, but they would look on with a smile when the devils carried Mi. Tiralla's soul off to hell.
He had grown quite cheerful lately, for the day after to-morrow, perhaps even to-morrow, Mikolai was coming. Everybody in the house was delighted except her. When Mikolai was there, there would never be another chance. That was Mrs. Tiralla's fixed idea.
The sick man was tortured by the idea that they wanted to kill the schoolmaster just because he was his, Pan Tiralla's, brother and friend, his only friend. If they were to do something to him? If they were to attack him in the dark yard? His terror on his friend's account had given strength to his shaking limbs, and he had been able to stand upright and walk.
Then he snatched hold of the hand which she held out to him, and pressed it to his lips, to his eyes, and stammered wildly, "Pani, let me die on the spot God punish me if ever I forget Mr. Tiralla's behaviour. I I " he suppressed something he was going to say. Then he once more pressed her willing hand to his burning lips and stood near her in silence, until they heard Mr.
He gave a loud laugh, but then he added in a gentle voice, "If my Röschen hadn't been there. I suppose, little Böhnke" he bent down from the box, gave the other man a dig in the ribs, and whispered with a grin "I suppose there's a woman behind it in your case as well, eh?" The schoolmaster recoiled; he felt disgusted. Mr. Tiralla's breath smelt of nothing but gin and alcohol.
She was too slender. The woman looked at herself in the glass with a feeling of dismay. Was that really her face, the "beautiful Sophia Tiralla's" face? Her skin, which had been as smooth as satin, had begun to fade. Was her beauty disappearing? Was she to lose that as well, and at her age? A deep sigh full of the most grievous impotence filled the lonely room. Mr.
Why, he was thinking of nobody but himself the perjurer, the liar! the vain little Pole! Mr. Ziëntek danced much better than the Prussian tax-collector, but even he found no favour in Mrs. Tiralla's eyes.
But the gendarme knew it for a fact, for the priest had mentioned quite a short time ago that the Ladies of the Sacred Heart at the Wallischei had been told of Rosa Tiralla's coming. "Very well then, I shan't," said Schmielke. He made no more of his frivolous remarks, but grew silent as the others had gradually done. They all felt out of tune, thoroughly depressed.
It was really extremely indecent to be so uncovered; but none of the women would have dared say that aloud, and the young girls even less. Next time, however, that there was a ball in Gradewitz, all the dresses should be made like Mrs. Tiralla's. The men seemed to approve of it. Even the most innocent children noticed how their fathers' eyes glittered as they looked down at Mrs.
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