Gold Elsie

E. Marlitt

Description

Originally published in German and presented here in an easy-to-follow English translation, the remarkably popular novel Gold Elsie tells the tale of Elizabeth Faber, the plucky daughter of a family that is desperately impoverished despite its genteel roots. By virtue of Elsie's feisty spirit and strong character, she manages to make her way in the world against all odds.

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 octobre 2015
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781776592258
• Langue: English

Extrait

GOLD ELSIE
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E. MARLITT
Translated by
ANNIS LEE WISTER
 
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Gold Elsie First published in 1868 Epub ISBN 978-1-77659-225-8 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77659-226-5 © 2013 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI Chapter XII Chapter XIII Chapter XIV Chapter XV Chapter XVI Chapter XVII Chapter XVIII Chapter XIX Chapter XX
Chapter I
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It had been snowing all day long,—so steadily that the roofs andwindow-sills were covered deep with spotless white cushions. And nowthe early twilight fell, bringing with it a wild gust of wind that ragedamong the falling snow-flakes like some bird of prey among a flock ofpeaceful doves.
Although the weather was such that the comfort-loving inhabitants of anysmall town would hardly have sent their dogs out of doors, not tomention venturing their own worthy persons, yet there was littledifference to be seen in the size of the crowd that usually frequentsthe streets of the large Capital, B—, between the hours of six andseven in the evening. The gas lamps were an excellent substitute forthose heavenly lights which would not make their appearance. Carriageswere whirling around corners in such tempestuous haste that many apedestrian rescued life and limb only by a sudden leap aside, whilecurses both loud and deep were hurled after the coachmen enveloped intheir comfortable furs, and the elegant coaches which contained behindtheir glass doors charmingly dressed women, whose lovely flower-crownedheads, as they peeped from among masses of muslin and tulle, certainlyhad no suspicion of the fire and brimstone called down upon them. Inthe warm atmosphere, behind the huge shop windows, elaborately curledand frizzed wax heads, surrounded by blond and black scalps, stared outupon the passers-by. Smiling shopmen displayed their fascinatingmerchandise, and withered old flower-sellers stood among theirfresh-blooming bouquets, which exhaled beauty and fragrance beneath thelight of the lamps that shed a brilliant glare upon the slipperypavement and upon the flood of human life streaming by, revealing thepinched, blue features and the desperately uncomfortable movements ofall, old and young.
But stay,—not of all! A female figure has just entered one of theprincipal streets from a narrow by-way. A small threadbare cloakclosely envelopes her slender form, and a worn old muff is pressedagainst her breast, confining the ends of a black lace veil, behindwhich two girlish eyes are glowing with the sunlight of early youth.They look out joyously into the whistling snow-storm, rest lovingly uponthe half-open rosebuds and dark purple violets behind the glass panes ofthe shop windows, and only veil their light beneath their long darklashes when sharp hail-stones mingle with the driving snow-flakes.
Whoever has listened while childish fingers, or sometimes fingers nolonger childish, confidently begin upon the piano a well-known melody,which goes bravely on for a few bars, then is arrested by a frightfuldiscord followed by a wild grasping after every key on the instrumentexcept the correct ones, while the patient teacher sits by, ceasing toattempt to evoke order out of chaos by the usual steady marking of thetime, wearily waiting until the panting melody is seized again andcarried on with lightning rapidity through several easy bars as oversome level plain,—whoever has thus had his ears stretched upon therack, can understand the delight with which this young girl, who hasjust given two music lessons in a large school, offers her hot cheek tothe wind as to an energetic comrade, whose mighty roar can breathewondrous melodies through the pipes of an organ or over the strings ofan Æolian harp.
Thus she passes lightly and swiftly through the storm and crowd; and Ido not for an instant doubt that if I should present her now upon thisslippery pavement to the gentle reader as Fräulein Elizabeth Ferber, shewould with a lovely smile make him as graceful a courtesy as though theyboth stood in a ball-room. But this introduction cannot takeplace,—and we really do not need it, for I forthwith intend to relateto the reader my heroine's antecedents.
Baron Wolf von Gnadewitz was the last scion of a famous house whoseremote ancestry could be traced back into the dubious twilight whicheven preceded that golden age when the travelling merchant, journeyingthrough some sequestered pass, was forced to surrender his costly stuffsand wares to a knightly banner and shining steel-clad troup of retainersas often as to the buff-coated highway adventurer. From thoseillustrious times there had been handed down, in the crest of theGnadewitzes a wheel, upon which one of these same noble ancestors hadbreathed out his knightly soul in consequence of having spilt rather toomuch ignoble trading-blood in one of the above-mentioned assaults uponhis merchant prey.
Baron von Gnadewitz, the last of his race, was chamberlain in theservice of the Prince Royal of X—, and possessor of various ordersand large estates, as well as of those peculiarities of character anddisposition which were, in his estimation, befitting the high-born, andwhich he was accustomed to designate as "distinguished," because allcommon men, bound by work-a-day moral considerations, and compelled bythe stern necessities of life, lose all taste for the inimitable graceand elegance of vice.
Baron Wolf von Gnadewitz was as fond of pomp and show as hisgrandfather, who had forsaken the old castle Gnadeck upon a mountain inThuringia, the cradle of his line, and had built him in the valley belowa perfect fairy palace in the Italian style. The grandson allowed theold castle to fall into decay, while he enlarged and improved the modernmansion considerably. Yes, it seemed as though he entertained not thesmallest doubt but that his latest descendant would be found occupyingthis favourite palace at the day of judgment, for the old castle wasquite dismantled in order that the vast chambers of the new abode mightbe thoroughly furnished. But he reckoned without his host. Wolf vonGnadewitz had a son, 'tis true,—a son who, at twenty years of age, wasso complete and thorough a Gnadewitz that the illustrious image of hisancestor who had perished upon the wheel paled before him. Thispromising youth one day, upon the occasion of the great autumn hunt inthe forest, struck one of his whippers-in a fearful blow upon the headwith the loaded handle of his hunting-whip—a fearful blow, but aperfectly just punishment, as every one of the guests invited to thehunt declared, for the man had stepped upon the paw of a favourite houndso clumsily as to render the animal entirely useless for a whole day.And thus it happened that, a short time afterward, Hans von Gnadewitzwas to be found not only upon the boughs of the genealogical tree in thehall of the new castle, but suspended by a rope around his neck to abough of one of the actual trees in the forest. The beaten whipper-inexpiated the deed upon the scaffold, but that could not bring the lastof the Gnadewitzes to life again, for he was dead,—irrevocably dead,the physicians said; and the long tale of robber-knights, wild excesses,hunting orgies, and horse-racing came to an end.
After this terrible catastrophe, Wolf von Gnadewitz left the castle inthe valley, and indeed that part of the country, and dwelt upon one ofhis many estates in Silesia. He took into his house to nurse him ayoung female relative, the last survivor of one of the collateralbranches of his house. This young relative proved to be a girl ofangelic beauty, at sight of whom the old baron entirely forgot theobject for which he had invited her beneath his roof, and at lastdetermined to clothe his sixty years in a wedding-garment. To hisexceeding indignation, however, he now learned that there might come atime, even to a Gnadewitz, when he could no longer be regarded as adesirable parti , and he fell into a violent rage when his youngrelative confessed that, in utter forgetfulness of her lofty lineage,she had given her heart to a bourgeois officer, the son of one of hisforesters.
The young man possessed no worldly gear, only his sword and a remarkablyfine manly person; but he was rich in mind, accomplished, amiable indisposition, and of stainless character. When Wolf von Gnadewitz, inconsequence of Marie's confession, turned her from his doors, youngFerber carried her home with delight as his wife, and for the first tenyears of their married life would not have exchanged his lot with thatof any king on earth. Still less would he have made such an exchange inthe eleventh year, for that was the eventful 1848; but with it camefierce struggles for him, and an entire alteration in his circumstances.He was obliged to decide between two duties. One had been inculcatedwhile he was in his cradle by his father, and ran thus: "Love yourneighbour, and especially your German brother, as yourself;" the other,which he had in later years imposed upon himself, commanded him to drawthe sword in his master's interest. In this strife the teachings of hischildhood conquered entirely. Ferber refused to draw the sword upon hisbrethren; but his refusal cost him his commission, and with it allassured means of subsistence. He retired from the army, and soonafterward, in consequence of a severe cold, was stretched upon asick-bed, which h