In a German Pension [31]
her why normal deathbeds should cause anyone to burst into flower, and said, "Yes, do let us."
We were greeted by the little party of "cure guests" on the pension steps, with those cries of joy and excitement which herald so pleasantly the mildest German excursion. Herr Erchardt and I had not met before that day, so, in accordance with strict pension custom, we asked each other how long we had slept during the night, had we dreamed agreeably, what time we had got up, was the coffee fresh when we had appeared at breakfast, and how had we passed the morning. Having toiled up these stairs of almost national politeness we landed, triumphant and smiling, and paused to recover breath.
"And now," said Herr Erchardt, "I have a pleasure in store for you. The Frau Professor is going to be one of us for the afternoon. Yes," nodding graciously to the Advanced Lady. "Allow me to introduce you to each other."
We bowed very formally, and looked each other over with that eye which is known as "eagle" but is far more the property of the female than that most unoffending of birds. "I think you are English?" she said. I acknowledged the fact. "I am reading a great many English books just now--rather, I am studying them."
"Nu," cried Herr Erchardt. "Fancy that! What a bond already! I have made up my mind to know Shakespeare in his mother tongue before I die, but that you, Frau Professor, should be already immersed in those wells of English thought!"
"From what I have read," she said, "I do not think they are very deep wells."
He nodded sympathetically.
"No," he answered, "so I have heard...But do not let us embitter our excursion for our little English friend. We will speak of this another time."
"Nu, are we ready?" cried Fritz, who stood, supporting Elsa's elbow in his hand, at the foot of the steps. It was immediately discovered that Karl was lost.
"Ka--rl, Karl--chen!" we cried. No response.
"But he was here one moment ago," said Herr Langen, a tired, pale youth, who was recovering from a nervous breakdown due to much philosophy and little nourishment. "He was sitting here, picking out the works of his watch with a hairpin!"
Frau Kellermann rounded on him. "Do you mean to say, my dear Herr Langen, you did not stop the child!"
"No," said Herr Langen; "I've tried stopping him before now."
"Da, that child has such energy; never is his brain at peace. If he is not doing one thing, he is doing another!"
"Perhaps he has started on the dining-room clock now," suggested Herr Langen, abominably hopeful.
The Advanced Lady suggested that we should go without him. "I never take my little daughter for walks," she said. "I have accustomed her to sitting quietly in my bedroom from the time I go out until I return!"
"There he is--there he is," piped Elsa, and Karl was observed slithering down a chestnut-tree, very much the worse for twigs.
"I've been listening to what you said about me, mumma," he confessed while Frau Kellermann brushed him down. "It was not true about the watch. I was only looking at it, and the little girl never stays in the bedroom. She told me herself she always goes down to the kitchen, and--"
"Da, that's enough!" said Frau Kellermann.
We marched en masse along the station road. It was a very warm afternoon, and continuous parties of "cure guests", who were giving their digestions a quiet airing in pension gardens, called after us, asked if we were going for a walk, and cried "Herr Gott--happy journey" with immense ill-concealed relish when we mentioned Schlingen.
"But that is eight kilometres," shouted one old man with a white beard, who leaned against a fence, fanning himself with a yellow handkerchief.
"Seven and a half," answered Herr Erchardt shortly.
"Eight," bellowed the sage.
"Seven and a half!"
"Eight!"
"The man is mad," said Herr Erchardt.
"Well, please let him be mad in peace," said I, putting my hands over my ears.
"Such ignorance must not be allowed to go uncontradicted," said he, and turning his back on us, too exhausted
We were greeted by the little party of "cure guests" on the pension steps, with those cries of joy and excitement which herald so pleasantly the mildest German excursion. Herr Erchardt and I had not met before that day, so, in accordance with strict pension custom, we asked each other how long we had slept during the night, had we dreamed agreeably, what time we had got up, was the coffee fresh when we had appeared at breakfast, and how had we passed the morning. Having toiled up these stairs of almost national politeness we landed, triumphant and smiling, and paused to recover breath.
"And now," said Herr Erchardt, "I have a pleasure in store for you. The Frau Professor is going to be one of us for the afternoon. Yes," nodding graciously to the Advanced Lady. "Allow me to introduce you to each other."
We bowed very formally, and looked each other over with that eye which is known as "eagle" but is far more the property of the female than that most unoffending of birds. "I think you are English?" she said. I acknowledged the fact. "I am reading a great many English books just now--rather, I am studying them."
"Nu," cried Herr Erchardt. "Fancy that! What a bond already! I have made up my mind to know Shakespeare in his mother tongue before I die, but that you, Frau Professor, should be already immersed in those wells of English thought!"
"From what I have read," she said, "I do not think they are very deep wells."
He nodded sympathetically.
"No," he answered, "so I have heard...But do not let us embitter our excursion for our little English friend. We will speak of this another time."
"Nu, are we ready?" cried Fritz, who stood, supporting Elsa's elbow in his hand, at the foot of the steps. It was immediately discovered that Karl was lost.
"Ka--rl, Karl--chen!" we cried. No response.
"But he was here one moment ago," said Herr Langen, a tired, pale youth, who was recovering from a nervous breakdown due to much philosophy and little nourishment. "He was sitting here, picking out the works of his watch with a hairpin!"
Frau Kellermann rounded on him. "Do you mean to say, my dear Herr Langen, you did not stop the child!"
"No," said Herr Langen; "I've tried stopping him before now."
"Da, that child has such energy; never is his brain at peace. If he is not doing one thing, he is doing another!"
"Perhaps he has started on the dining-room clock now," suggested Herr Langen, abominably hopeful.
The Advanced Lady suggested that we should go without him. "I never take my little daughter for walks," she said. "I have accustomed her to sitting quietly in my bedroom from the time I go out until I return!"
"There he is--there he is," piped Elsa, and Karl was observed slithering down a chestnut-tree, very much the worse for twigs.
"I've been listening to what you said about me, mumma," he confessed while Frau Kellermann brushed him down. "It was not true about the watch. I was only looking at it, and the little girl never stays in the bedroom. She told me herself she always goes down to the kitchen, and--"
"Da, that's enough!" said Frau Kellermann.
We marched en masse along the station road. It was a very warm afternoon, and continuous parties of "cure guests", who were giving their digestions a quiet airing in pension gardens, called after us, asked if we were going for a walk, and cried "Herr Gott--happy journey" with immense ill-concealed relish when we mentioned Schlingen.
"But that is eight kilometres," shouted one old man with a white beard, who leaned against a fence, fanning himself with a yellow handkerchief.
"Seven and a half," answered Herr Erchardt shortly.
"Eight," bellowed the sage.
"Seven and a half!"
"Eight!"
"The man is mad," said Herr Erchardt.
"Well, please let him be mad in peace," said I, putting my hands over my ears.
"Such ignorance must not be allowed to go uncontradicted," said he, and turning his back on us, too exhausted