German Stories of Crime and Evil from the 18th Century to the Present Deutsche Geschichten von Verbrechen und Bösem vom 18. Jahrhundert bis zur Gegenwart by M. Charlotte Wolf Ph.D

Author:M. Charlotte Wolf, Ph.D.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dover Publications
Published: 2015-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

wears a laced-up corset,” the chief farm hand asked. “Shush, shush,” Johann whispered and, embarrassed, clinked his fork on his plate. Anna entered the kitchen with her load of water. “Anna,” Liese began importantly, “I am supposed to tell you…” “I already know,” Anna said drily, in a determined voice. “I met the messenger. Where is the key to the flax chamber?” “Over there, on the nail,” replied the cook and pointed with her finger to the place. Anna, calm because she was shattered inside, took the key and left hastily for the flax chamber, whose windows faced the courtyard and the country road, while the rest of them went to their trunks to complete their outfits before a threepenny mirror. She sat down, her face turned toward the windows, so that she was able to see all the merry people from the village who went to the fun fair, and to hear their animated conversations; with dull diligence she began her work, even though from time to time she sank into unconscious brooding, then immediately snapped out of this with a frightened start, as if bitten by a snake or tarantula, and resumed with renewed and even unnatural vigor. Only once during the whole long afternoon did she get up from her low, hard chair made from a block of wood—exactly when her fellow servants were racing down the courtyard in comfortable rack wagons drawn by fast horses; they were laughing out loud as if mocking her. She sat down again, without even drinking the coffee which old Brigitte, who used to house-sit for the maids on occasions such as the one today, had brought out for her, out of compassion, around four or five o’ clock, even though she had become thirsty in all this heat and dust, so that her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. As night was falling gradually, [and] without brushing back her locks which were tumbling wildly around her face, she went into the kitchen; there she did not respond to Brigitte’s cordial invitation to stay and share with her a mouth-watering pan full of fried potatoes, [but] took a candle from the candle cabinet and then returned with it to the flax chamber, protecting it from the drafty air by holding her hand over it. Not long after that there was a knock at her window, and when she opened the door, Friedrich entered, sweating all over from rushing about. “After all, I have to see,” he

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