Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1906-08-04
* eeeseesee *


of such boundless hopes! Regret,
not available for us. The letters
grinned at him derisively. He hasti-
ly slipped the fatal paper into port
folio, but ever before him fitted
those gray, cold words, mot avail
able" All through the air they
danced; the walls of lis room were
dotted with them. He could contain
himself no longer within these walls,
which had witnessed his inspiration
and hopes, and on which were now
written in black letters, Regret, not
available"
He rushed out Life, and all it
contained was hateful to him; he
hated the whole universe: the plain
"bourgeoise" pushing her offspring
along in a go-cart; the young men
and girls with their tennis racquets-
was there eve a sillier game?-the
ole ladies knitting ana munching
Kaffeekuchen coffee cake) old men
strolling along their eager talk in
terrupted now and then by a little
coughing spell: and then those sweet
hearts with their mien of blissful
imbecility All of them he despised,
the whole conceited lot of them. The
la-i was filled with these ridiculous
people, - ; were enjoying the early
spring End seemed glad to live. not
knowing what it was to have ones
work returned with regret, not
available
The mall was one trembling mass
of glitter. The tender fresh green
of the lindens was as yet not too
dense to prevent the sun from filter
ing through, making holden blotches
on the blond heads of young girls
and clarifying the shabby black
gowns of the old ladies.
A general disgust filed the young
poet He turned into a side path.
Here about the fish pond walked pa
tient governesses with their rich
charges; on every bench sat a pair of
lovers, on every tree a nightingale.
He stared into the water as if eager
to murder the poor little goldfish
disporting themselves on the sun
flecked surface. Oh, if that pond
were not SO shallow, harmlessly shall
low like the ordinary German read
ing public, he would not have be-
them the pleasure of haul
ing h dead body out of the water;
they might then understand that
once more indifference and lack of
had -riven a poet TO
his death. He walked on rapidly,
regardless of those who came in his Z
way. Those whom he jostled rough
ly looked angrily at him. This
pleased him, for he felt himself at
war with the whole world.
The neavy laden spring air soon
overpowered him, and he looked |
about for place to rest. All the
seats were taken. At last he found |
a bench with but one occupant, a
young girl. He sat down on the ex-
IRENE end. Resting his arms on his |
elbows he buried his head in his |
hands and gave himself up to brood |
ngs He did nor care to see the |
aIghirE 81 might.
Just along the line OF vision, mt
Of the corner of his eye, he saw a |
small foot. shod in a gray gaiter;
dainty foot, which moved slightly, |
1ut regularly. He followed the |
mechanically. Something |
luieting to his nerves seemed to en-
anate from 1t. His tempestuous |
mood soon gave way to one of mel
ancholy. All pain seemed to have |
and he was conscious of |
but one wish, and that was that that |
little gray body might keep on sway |
ing Indefinitely. Gradually he got a
glimpse of a blue skirt, then a very
slim waist, and finally a delicate pro- |
file. The lips quivered, and tears
were visible on the long lashes He |
dropped his eyes, and resumed watch
Ing that moving foot.
Here, at last, was a woman who
was not giggling and Chattering like
the rest of them. She was a sufferer
like himself. Birds were jubilant
and from the distance came sounds
of voices from the. merry throng
which thought life good and nature
benign.
The sound of a suppressed sob
aroused him. Involuntarily, he
turned towards her The girl, over
come by grief. was pressing her hand
kerchief to her eyes; wiping her
tears, she looked at him askance.
He could contain himself no long
er. Moving closer, he addressed her
in modest, respectful terms: Don't
put any restraint on your feeling;
/, too, know what sorrow is. Could
/ perchance be of any assistance to
you? To be sure, we are strangers,
but misery loves companionship
Il thank you" she answered in a
way, scrutinizing him close
ly; mo one can help me. l am so
unhappy" And again her tears be-
gan to flow.
You are right" he said sadly.
who can help another? No one"
In order that you may not think
me foolish" she began hesitatingly,
"or think Heaven knows what of me"
The had in reality thought Heaven
knows what of herr Il will tell you
all. l got letter which disappointed
me dreadfully, letter of refusal"
Indeed"
You see, / am a governess by
profession"
"Ah!"
And felt sure / had the position;
when this cruel letter came"
My dear Fraulein, nothing is GER
tain in this world, and one should
never count on anything with conf
dence," he replied with the acrid bit
terness Of the disappointed
you are right one should not.
Everything seemed satisfactory. !
passed my examination, and l am a
good musician"
He bowed slight in acknowledge
,,,aut oF urch oconp, plisb ~, auts