People did not laugh at Findelkind. He was a little
boy just like me, no better and no bigger, and as poor; and yet he
had so much faith, and the world then was so good, that he left
his sheep and got money enough to build a church and a hospice to
Christ and St. Christopher. And I want to do the same for the
poor. Not for myself, no; for the poor! I am Findelkind, too, and
Findelkind of Arlberg that is in heaven speaks to me."
Then he stopped, and a sob rose again in his throat.
"He is crazy!" said the people, laughing, yet a little scared; for
the priest at Zirl had said rightly, this is not an age of faith.
At that moment there sounded, coming from the barracks, that used
to be the Schloss in the old days of Kaiser Max and Mary of
Burgundy, the sound of drums and trumpets and the tramp of
marching feet. It was one of the corps of Jagers of Tyrol, going
down from the avenue to the Rudolfplatz, with their band before
them and their pennons streaming. It was a familiar sight, but it
drew the street throngs to it like magic: the age is not fond of
dreamers, but it is very fond of drums. In almost a moment the old
dark arcades and the riverside and the passages near were all
empty, except for the women sitting at their stalls of fruit or
cakes, or toys, They are wonderful old arched arcades, like the
cloisters of a cathedral more than anything else, and the shops
under them are all homely and simple--shops of leather, of furs,
of clothes, of wooden playthings, of sweet and wholesome bread.
Pages:
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156