o fill the basket. But Dietrich went to work with a
will. His fingers were deft and his knife was sharp; and by midsun he
had turned his sixth basket, which was fair work, considering.
As Hoffman did not feed his employees, Dietrich was obliged to beg from
his co-workers. Very willingly they shared with him their coarse bread
and onions. He ate the bread and stuffed the onions in his pocket. There
was no idling. As soon as the frugal meal was over, the peasants trooped
away to their respective terraces. Once more the youth was alone. He set
down his basket and laughed. Was there ever such a fine world? Had there
ever been a more likable adventure? The very danger of it was the spice
which gave it flavor. He stretched out his arms as if to embrace this
world which appeared so rosal, so joyous to his imagination.
"Thanks, thanks! You have given me youth, and I accept it," he said
aloud, perhaps addressing that mutable goddess who presides over all
follies. "Regret it in my old age? Not I! I shall have lived for one
short month. Youth was given to us to enjoy, and I propose to press the
grape to the final drop. And when I grow old this adventure shall be the
tonic to wipe out many wrinkles of care. A mad fling, a brimming cup,
one short merry month--and then, the reckoning! How I hate the thought!"
He sobered; the laughter went out of his eyes and face. Changeful
twenty, where so many paths reach out into the great world, paths
straight and narrow, of devious turnings which end at precipices, of
blind alleys which lead nowhere and close in behind!
"I love her, I love her!" His face grew bright again, and the wooing
blood ran tingling in his veins. "Am I a thief, a scoundrelly thief,
because I have that right common to all men, to love one woman? Some day
I shall suffer for this; some day my heart shall ache; so be it!"
The sun began the downward circle; the shadows crept eastward and
imperceptibly grew longer; a gray tone settled under the stones at his
feet. Sometimes he sang,
Notka biograficzna
Sir Thomas Henry Hall Caine CH, KBE (May 14, 1853August 31, 1931), usually known as Hall Caine, was a British author. He is best known as a novelist and playwright of the late Victorian and the Edwardian eras. In his time he was exceedingly popular and at the peak of his success his novels outsold those of his contemporaries. Many of his novels were also made into films. His novels were primarily romantic in nature, involving the love triangle, but they did also address some of the more serious political and social issues of the day.
Harold MacGrath (September 4, 1871 - October 30, 1932) was a bestselling American novelist, short story writer, and screenwriter. Also known occasionally as Harold McGrath, he was born in Syracuse, New York. As a young man, he worked as a reporter and columnist on the Syracuse Herald newspaper until the late 1890s when he published his first novel, a romance titled Arms and the Woman. According to the New York Times, his next book, The Puppet Crown, was the No.7 bestselling book in the United States for all of 1901. From that point on, MacGrath never looked back, writing novels for the mass market about love, adventure, mystery, spies, and the like at an average rate of more than one a year. He would have three more of his books that were among the top ten bestselling books of the year. At the same time, he penned a number of short stories for major American magazines such as The Saturday Evening Post, Ladies Home Journal, and Red Book magazine. Several of MacGraths novels were seriali
Mabel Collins (9 September 1851 - 31 March 1927) was a theosophist and author of over 46 books. She was born in St Peter Port, Guernsey.