Gretchen's pallet stood
in a small alcove and the old woman's bed by the left of the fire.
Gretchen opened the door, which was unlocked. There was no light in the
hall. She pressed her lover in her arms, kissed him lightly, and pushed
him into the living-room. A log smoldered dimly on the irons. Gretchen
ran forward, turned over the log, lighted two candles, then kissed the
old woman seated in the one comfortable chair. The others were simply
three-legged stools. There was little else in the room, save a poor
reproduction of the Virgin Mary.
"Here I am, grandmother!"
"And who is here with you?" sharply but not unkindly.
"My man!" cried Gretchen gaily, her eyes bright as the candle flames.
"Bring him near me."
Gretchen gathered up two stools and placed them on either side of her
grandmother and motioned to the vintner to sit down. He did so, easily
and without visible embarrassment, even though the black eyes plunged a
glance into his.
Her hair was white and thin, her nose aquiline, her lips fallen in, a
cobweb of wrinkles round her eyes, down her cheeks, under her chin. But
her sight was undimmed.
"Where are you from? You are not a Dreiberger."
"From the north, grandmother," forcing a smile to his lips.
The reply rather gratified her.
Pages:
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73