THE GOLDEN TREASURE [3]
not once, but many
times; and at last one day he seized the delicate fingers and the
white hand, and kissed it, and looked into her great brown eyes.
Heaven knows what he said; but we may be allowed to guess at it.
Charlotte blushed to guess at it. She reddened from brow to neck,
and answered not a single word; and then strangers came into the room,
and one of them was the state councillor's son. He had a lofty white
forehead, and carried it so high that it seemed to go back into his
neck. And Peter sat by her a long time, and she looked at him with
gentle eyes.
At home that evening he spoke of travel in the wide world, and
of the golden treasure that lay hidden for him in his violin.
"To be famous!"
"Tum-me-lum, tum-me-lum, tum-me-lum!" said the Fire-drum. "Peter
has gone clear out of his wits. I think there must be a fire in the
house."
Next day the mother went to market.
"Shall I tell you news, Peter?" she asked when she came home. "A
capital piece of news. Burgomaster's Charlotte has engaged herself
to the state councillor's son; the betrothal took place yesterday
evening."
"No!" cried Peter, and he sprang up from his chair. But his mother
persisted in saying "Yes." She had heard it from the baker's wife,
whose husband had it from the burgomaster's own mouth
And Peter became as pale as death, and sat down again.
"Good Heaven! what's the matter with you?" asked his mother.
"Nothing, nothing; only leave me to myself," he answered but the
tears were running down his cheeks.
"My sweet child, my golden treasure!" cried the mother, and she
wept; but the Fire-drum sang, not out loud, but inwardly.
"Charlotte's gone! Charlotte's gone! and now the song is done."
But the song was not done; there were many more verses in it, long
verses, the most beautiful verses, the golden treasures of a life.
"She behaves like a mad woman," said the neighbor's wife. "All the
world is to see the letters she gets from her golden treasure, and
to read the words that are written in the papers about his violin
playing. And he sends her money too, and that's very useful to her
since she has been a widow."
"He plays before emperors and kings," said the town musician. "I
never had that fortune, but he's my pupil, and he does not forget
his old master."
And his mother said,
"His father dreamt that Peter came home from the war with a silver
cross. He did not gain one in the war, but it is still more
difficult to gain one in this way. Now he has the cross of honor. If
his father had only lived to see it!"
"He's grown famous!" said the Fire-drum, and all his native town
said the same thing, for the drummer's son, Peter with the red hair-
Peter whom they had known as a little boy, running about in wooden
shoes, and then as a drummer, playing for the dancers- was become
famous!
"He played at our house before he played in the presence of
kings," said the burgomaster's wife. "At that time he was quite
smitten with Charlotte. He was always of an aspiring turn. At that
time he was saucy and an enthusiast. My husband laughed when he
heard of the foolish affair, and now our Charlotte is a state
councillor's wife."
A golden treasure had been hidden in the heart and soul of the
poor child, who had beaten the roll as a drummer- a roll of victory
for those who had been ready to retreat. There was a golden treasure
in his bosom, the power of sound; it burst forth on his violin as if
the instrument had been a complete organ, and as if all the elves of a
midsummer night were dancing across the strings. In its sounds were
heard the piping of the thrush and the full clear note of the human
voice; therefore the sound brought rapture to every heart, and carried
his name triumphant through the land. That was a great firebrand-
the firebrand of inspiration.
"And then he looks so splendid!" said the young ladies and the old
ladies too; and the oldest of all procured
times; and at last one day he seized the delicate fingers and the
white hand, and kissed it, and looked into her great brown eyes.
Heaven knows what he said; but we may be allowed to guess at it.
Charlotte blushed to guess at it. She reddened from brow to neck,
and answered not a single word; and then strangers came into the room,
and one of them was the state councillor's son. He had a lofty white
forehead, and carried it so high that it seemed to go back into his
neck. And Peter sat by her a long time, and she looked at him with
gentle eyes.
At home that evening he spoke of travel in the wide world, and
of the golden treasure that lay hidden for him in his violin.
"To be famous!"
"Tum-me-lum, tum-me-lum, tum-me-lum!" said the Fire-drum. "Peter
has gone clear out of his wits. I think there must be a fire in the
house."
Next day the mother went to market.
"Shall I tell you news, Peter?" she asked when she came home. "A
capital piece of news. Burgomaster's Charlotte has engaged herself
to the state councillor's son; the betrothal took place yesterday
evening."
"No!" cried Peter, and he sprang up from his chair. But his mother
persisted in saying "Yes." She had heard it from the baker's wife,
whose husband had it from the burgomaster's own mouth
And Peter became as pale as death, and sat down again.
"Good Heaven! what's the matter with you?" asked his mother.
"Nothing, nothing; only leave me to myself," he answered but the
tears were running down his cheeks.
"My sweet child, my golden treasure!" cried the mother, and she
wept; but the Fire-drum sang, not out loud, but inwardly.
"Charlotte's gone! Charlotte's gone! and now the song is done."
But the song was not done; there were many more verses in it, long
verses, the most beautiful verses, the golden treasures of a life.
"She behaves like a mad woman," said the neighbor's wife. "All the
world is to see the letters she gets from her golden treasure, and
to read the words that are written in the papers about his violin
playing. And he sends her money too, and that's very useful to her
since she has been a widow."
"He plays before emperors and kings," said the town musician. "I
never had that fortune, but he's my pupil, and he does not forget
his old master."
And his mother said,
"His father dreamt that Peter came home from the war with a silver
cross. He did not gain one in the war, but it is still more
difficult to gain one in this way. Now he has the cross of honor. If
his father had only lived to see it!"
"He's grown famous!" said the Fire-drum, and all his native town
said the same thing, for the drummer's son, Peter with the red hair-
Peter whom they had known as a little boy, running about in wooden
shoes, and then as a drummer, playing for the dancers- was become
famous!
"He played at our house before he played in the presence of
kings," said the burgomaster's wife. "At that time he was quite
smitten with Charlotte. He was always of an aspiring turn. At that
time he was saucy and an enthusiast. My husband laughed when he
heard of the foolish affair, and now our Charlotte is a state
councillor's wife."
A golden treasure had been hidden in the heart and soul of the
poor child, who had beaten the roll as a drummer- a roll of victory
for those who had been ready to retreat. There was a golden treasure
in his bosom, the power of sound; it burst forth on his violin as if
the instrument had been a complete organ, and as if all the elves of a
midsummer night were dancing across the strings. In its sounds were
heard the piping of the thrush and the full clear note of the human
voice; therefore the sound brought rapture to every heart, and carried
his name triumphant through the land. That was a great firebrand-
the firebrand of inspiration.
"And then he looks so splendid!" said the young ladies and the old
ladies too; and the oldest of all procured