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Updated: June 1, 2025
She was obliged to be civil to him for her nephew's sake, and she was too wise to let Lesbia imagine him dangerous: but the fact that he was dangerous was obvious, and it was Fräulein's duty to protect her employer's interests. Everybody knew Lord Maulevrier, so there was no difficulty about getting admission to Wordsworth's garden and Wordsworth's house, and after Mr.
Ihre paar Groschen!" and then the two voices shrieked incoherently together until Fraulein's door slammed to and Anna's voice, shouting and swearing, died away towards the basement. Miriam had crept back to the schoolroom window. She stood shivering, trying to forget the taunting words, and the cruel laughter. "You can have your ha'pence!" Poor Anna. Her poor wages. Her bony face...
And there would be dreary days on which the weather would keep her a prisoner in her luxurious gaol, when the mountains, and the rugged paths beside the mountain streams, would be inaccessible, when she would be restricted to Fräulein's phlegmatic society, that lady being stout and lazy, fond of her meals, and given to afternoon slumbers.
I'm quite sure she has not gone there," said Mellicent shrewdly. "It is more likely she has gone to Fraulein's lodgings to tell her about Arthur. She is fond of Fraulein." The suggestion was not very brilliant, but it was hailed with eagerness by the listeners as the most probable explanation yet offered. "Then I'll tell you what we will do.
She would have to go, go, go in a sort of disgrace. The girls were talking all round her, excitedly. She despised them for showing that they were disturbed by Fraulein's despotic nonsense. As they reached the basement she remembered the letter crushed in her hand and sat down on the last step to glance through it. "Dearest Mim. I have a wonderful piece of news for you. I wonder what you will say?
For a while she sat with her eyes on Fraulein's thin profile, clean and cool and dry in the intense heat... "she must be looking out towards the lime-trees."... Ulrica sat drooped on a low chair near her knees... "sweet beautiful head"... the weight of her soft curved mouth seemed too much for the delicate angles of her face and it drooped faintly, breaking their sharp lines.
What was such a thing doing here?... Finishing school for the daughters of gentlemen.... She had never had such a thing in her hands before.... Fraulein could not know.... She glanced at her, but Fraulein's cavernous mouth was serenely open and the voices of the girls sang heartily, "Whenhy cometh.
'The same old table, Helen, he said, 'and other children have spilled ink on it and scratched their initials just as we used to; here are yours and mine. Do you remember the day we did them under Fräulein's very nose? And here are all our old books, too.
Something in their bearing and manner.... Blind and impudent.... She thought of the interview she had witnessed between Ulrica and her cousin the cousin coming up from the estate in Erfurth, arriving in a carriage, Fraulein's manner, her smiles and hints; Ulrica standing in the saal in her sprigged saffron muslin dress curtseying.. . with bent head, the cousin's condescending laughing voice.
Standing motionless, gazing at the pale oval face bending gravely towards her from the gloom, she felt for a moment the radiance of stars above her and heard the rustle of leaves. Then the guessing voices broke from the saal. "Ach! ach! Wie schon! Romeo! That is beautifoll. Romeo! Who is our Romeo?" and Fraulein's smiling, singing, affectionate voice, "Who is Romeo! The rascal!"
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