Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from The Children of the World
On the ground floor was the sho over which a black sign bore the inscription in gilt letters: oot Shoe Making Done by Gottfried Feyertag. The shoemaker had ordered the large brown boot and red slipper, which' had originally been painted on the right and left side, -to be efi'aced, because it an noy ed him to see them, when they no longer represented the fash ion. He kept up with the times in his trade, and could not possibly alter his sign at every change of style. The shop, he generally left to the management of his wife he himself spend ing most of the day in the workroom, where he kept a sharp eye on his four or five journeymen. A narrow entry led past the shop into a small, well-kept courtyard, in whose centre stood a tall acacia-tree, three quarters of which had died for want of air and sunlight, so that only its topmost branches were still adorned with a few pale green, consumptive-looking leaves, which every autumn turned yellow some weeks before any oth er foliage. Here, in one corner, beside the pulnp, an arbor had been erected by the head journeyman, for the daughter of the house, when a school-girl; it consisted of a few small poles roughly nailed together, and now overgrown with bean-vines, which bloomed most dutifully every summer, but in the best years never produced more than a handful of stunted pods. A little bed alon the so - called sunny side of the house con tained all sorts of8 plants that seek the shade, and thrive luxu riantly around cisterns and cellars; and in midsummer, when the sun actually sent a few ra s into the courtyard at noon day, the little spot really loolzed quite gay, especially if the fair-haired Reginchen, now a young girl of seventeen, were seated there reading - if it chanced to be a Sunday - some tale of robbers from a book obtained at a circulating library. A grey, neglected back building, only united to the front house by the bare adjoining walls, had also two stories, with three windows looking out it on this courtyard; and a steep, ruinous staircase, which crealfed and groaned at every step, led past the ground floor, where the workshop and jour neymen's sleeping-rooms were situated, to the rooms above. On the night when our story begins, this place was sufl'ocatingly hot. It was one of those evenings late in summer, when not a breath of air was stirring no dew was falling, and when only the dust, which had risen during the day, floated down in light in visible clouds, Oppressing with mountainous weight every breathing creature. A slender young man, in a straw hat and grey summer clothes, softly opened the door Of the house, walked alon the narrow entry on tip-toe, and then crossed the stones With which the courtyard was paved. He could not help seizing the pump-handle and cooling his burning face and hands with the water, which to be sure was none of the freshest. But the noise did not disturb any one; at least nothing stirred below or above. He stood still a few moments and allowed the air to dry the moisture, gazing meantime at the windows of the upper story, which reflected the bright moonlight. Only one was Open, and a large white cat lay on the sill, apparentl asleep. The windows in the first story were all open, and' a faint light stole out and illumined part of the trunk Of the acacia with a pale red glow. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com
