“That’s just what you won’t do, Sister Christel,” said his most Serene Highness, turning on his heel. “Don’t make plans, and then they won’t miscarry! I don’t want any womankind with their chit-chat and nonsense in this new palace. I’ve had a deal too much of that at Neu-Strelitz. Rand!” he called; “go and find the two Burgomasters; and you,” he said to two of the footmen, “go and cite the aldermen; tell them I wish to consult them, I, their liege lord. You are to stay here,” he said to the third lackey; “it will not do to strip ourselves entirely of attendance.”
And thereupon he walked up and down with his sister, and did not so much as notice that she made a wry face and protruded her nether-lip; and the lackey trotted behind them.
Fritz Reuter (1810-1874).
HIS SERENITY AND THE THUNDER-STORM.
ON his way to school the Konrektor felt so cheery and good-natured that his pupils might have expected to have a good day. As he stepped into the schoolroom he had the pleasant surprise of seeing a complete Roman battle before him, which his precious boys were carrying out in honour of Livy, and probably to give him an unexpected pleasure, and the noise they made was as natural as if the room were full of genuine Roman soldiers and genuine horses.
It was all very well for the boys, but it was not quite befitting the quiet which is supposed to reign in a schoolroom; nor was it the best means of allaying the flushed spirits of a schoolmaster who had his own private troubles to contend with. The Herr Konrektor sat down on his platform, opened his Homer, and when the noise had somewhat subsided, he gave vent to his ire: “Now listen, you dunces; first learn something, then you’ll be better able to play heroes! Last time we stopped just before the splendid passage where Hector said good-bye to his dear wife Andromache, and she exhorts him—
“Δαιμόνιε, says she; φθισει σε τὸ σὸν μένος, οὐδ’ἐλεαιρεις, says she; but it’s hardly worth while to read anything so fine to you scatterbrained dolts. παῑδά τε νηπίαχον, says she; και ἒμ ἂμμορον, ἣ τάχα χὴρη, says she. Karl Wendt, confound you, if you don’t stop talking I’ll stand you up by my platform, and then it’ll be my turn to have a talk with you. σεῦ ἔσομαι, says she, τὰχα γάρ σε κατακτανέουσιν Ἀχαιοὶ πάντες ἐρορμηφθέντες, says she; ὲμοὶ δέ κε κέρδιον εἴη σεῦ ἀραμαρτοῦση, and so on, says she.—Langnickel, you begin.”
And Langnickel cleared his throat once or twice and nudged his neighbours right and left with his elbows, as much as to say: “Fellows, help me; I’m in an awful fix.”
“Well,” said the Konrektor, “how long before you’re ready? Δαιμόνιε—what does that mean?”
“Oh, thou monster!” said Langnickel, looking at the Herr Konrektor very doubtfully to see what he would say.