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Updated: May 28, 2025
He tossed off a third glass. Forget! If one could not help, it was better to forget! He put on his hat. Yes. There was no room for him there! He was not wanted! He finished the bottle, and went out into the passage. Scruff ran and lay down at Mr. Treffry's door. Herr Paul looked at him. "Ach!" he said, tapping his chest, "ungrateful hound!" And opening the front door he went out on tiptoe....
And going out, he shut the door on any possibility of answer. Mr. Treffry lay back amongst his cushions. The clock ticked; pigeons cooed on the veranda; a door opened in the distance, and for a moment a treble voice was heard. Mr. Treffry's head drooped forward; across his face, gloomy and rugged, fell a thin line of sunlight.
Treffry's room with tears rolling down his cheeks, saying: "Poor Nicholas! Poor Nicholas! Il n'a pas de chance!" It was difficult to find any one to listen; the women were scared and silent, waiting for the orders that were now and then whispered through the door.
Treffry's gaze was fixed on a tortoise-shell butterfly fluttering round the ceiling. The insect seemed to fascinate him, as things which move quickly always fascinate the helpless. Christian came softly in. "Couldn't stay in bed, Chris," he called out with an air of guilt. "The heat was something awful. The doctor piped off in a huff, just because o' this."
Harz took the proffered weed, and lighted it from the glowing tip of Mr. Treffry's cigar, by light of which his head and hat looked like some giant mushroom. Suddenly the wheels jolted on a rubble of loose stones; the carriage was swung sideways. The scared horses, straining asunder, leaped forward, and sped downwards, in the darkness.
She bent over till her hair touched Mr. Treffry's face. "Uncle Nic!" she whispered. He opened his eyes. "Hallo, Greta!" "I have come to bring you my love, Uncle Nic, and to say good-bye. Papa says that I and Scruff and Miss Naylor are going to Vienna with him; we have had to pack in half an hour; in five minutes we are going to Vienna, and it is my first visit there, Uncle Nic." "To Vienna!" Mr.
At the lighting of the stars those sparkles die, vanishing one by one off the hillsides; evening comes flying down the valleys, and life rests under her cool wings. The night falls; and the hundred little voices of the night arise. It was near grape-gathering, and in the heat the fight for Nicholas Treffry's life went on, day in, day out, with gleams of hope and moments of despair.
Dominique came round to them, bearing appearance of one who has seen better days, and a pot of coffee brewed on a spirit lamp. Breakfast he said was served! The ears of the horses were twitching with fatigue. Mr. Treffry said sadly: "If I can see this through, you can. Get on, my beauties!" As soon as the sun struck through the trees, Mr. Treffry's strength ebbed again.
"Well, then, I hate to be wrapped in cotton wool; I want to breathe. If I come to grief, it's my own affair; nobody need mind." Mr. Treffry's fingers sought his beard. "Ah! yes. Just so!" Christian sank on her knees. "Oh! Uncle! I'm a selfish beast!" Mr. Treffry laid his hand against her cheek. "I think I could do with a nap," he said. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she stole out of the room.
By a stroke of Fate Mr. Treffry's return to Villa Rubein befell at the psychological moment when Herr Paul, in a suit of rather too bright blue, was starting for Vienna. As soon as he saw the carriage appear between the poplars he became as pensive as a boy caught in the act of stealing cherries. Pitching his hatbox to Fritz, he recovered himself, however, in time to whistle while Mr.
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