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Updated: June 26, 2025
The outlines of the shrivelled body beneath the sheet seemed those of a child of ten, and the legs looked curiously twisted. One thin little hand, as of transparent wax, delicately artistic, upheld a paralyzed eyelid, through which he peered at her. "Lucy Liebchen!" he piped joyously. "So you have found out who Heinrich Heine is!"
He ran away through the woods around the north shore, and I ran after, to see him study the habits of the cetacean. Liebchen had sidled off and was rolling about in the middle of the harbour when we came to the bluffs, where the wine-palms and cocoanut trees leaned over and the channel was narrow. Kreps fell to chopping the landward roots, and I saw he wanted to block the channel.
Goethe, who in his youth swore to dedicate his life to the service of love, and unhappily kept his vow; Goethe, who nauseates us with love in his romances and lyrics, who even in the Eternal City cannot forget his worship of "Amor" and his visits to his "Liebchen," never misuses love in his dramas.
You are to be the light don't you see, sweetheart? And you cannot do it, don't you see you cannot, if your own heart is not right with the world?" She did not answer, but she came back to his arms. Her quick breath told him how hard she was trying. "See your statue up there, liebchen? Remember how you always liked it? What you said about it that night?
Now Liebchen came in one day at high tide, chasing those little goggle-eyed squids that lived so many in the harbour. The first we saw was tons of her gambolling around in the water. She was a medium-sized whale, and might have been forty feet in length, but I never was in the whaling business, and Liebchen was the only one I ever got real acquainted with.
I vill go mit Kamelillo, my friend." Kamelillo spent the morning making a bamboo raft, and in the afternoon they put out. Liebchen was over by the harbour entrance, lying low in the water and maybe asleep. Kamelillo had a bamboo pole in his hand to pole the raft with, but he had shod it with his harpoon head. They drew alongside, and Kreps was facing front, with his back to Kamelillo.
Thought she might be a friend of yours," says he, "meaning no reflections." I said I was acquainted with her, and Kreps took off his glasses and wiped his eyes. "She vass of de tenderness, das Zartlichkeit." It made him sad to see Liebchen dead, that was full of sensibility, and Veronica come back with dignity, she being a conventional hen and scornful and cold by nature.
"Look here, liebchen," said Karl, emerging from a brown study, "we must fix up a code." "A code, dear?" "For your writing to me. You see Ross will have to read the letters, and how can you say in every other line you love me, with that duffer reading it out loud?" "Oh, Karl how stupid of me not to learn writing the other way! You see it never occurred to me I would be away from you.
Oh, I'll get interested in them, all right and oh, liebchen" with a tenderness which swept all else aside "I have you!" Some of the university people came over that night to see Karl. Ernestine was glad of that, for she had been dreading the evening. Their talk of the afternoon had made it more clear and more hard than it had ever been before. Her mothering instinct had been supreme that summer.
"Ach, Liebchen!" he says; and we went back to gather up his tin cans; and I says: "Ewigweibliche's a good word, though a Dutch one;" then we came away on the whaler. But all I owned went down on the Anaconda. I got back to San Francisco in course of time, but no richer than when I left Greenough, and ten years or more older.
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