DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.62134#0162
154
AN ART-STUDENT IN MUNICH.
entering, I found. Her neighbours never knocked; but
the Franciscan did, it seems. Whilst I sat sketching, I
heard the word “ Franciscan,” “ Franciscan,” again and
again on the lips of the old woman and her gossips, who
were everlastingly dropping in, either to talk with her, or
to stare at me ! “ Franciscan” was about the sole word
I understood of their jargon; for speaking among them-
selves, their German became something very different to
that in which they addressed “ the gracious young lady.”
Yes, there were several other words which fell upon my
ear—“ cold,” “ wood,” and “clearing-up.” “ Abratnnen”
seemed the great word of all. a Jo, jo, abraumen ; Den
Hof kehren” those were the great subjects of conversa-
tion with a silly-looking, pale-faced little woman, who had
big round eyes, big round gold rings in her ears, and a
white cloth tied over her head. It was also the staple of
discourse with the burly, fat, gruff-voiced woman who
possessed a dirty face, and had a crimson ’kerchief tied
over her head; as well as with the pink-cheeked, soft
blue-eyed old woman, who looked like a gentlewoman, she
was so clean and sprightly. But “Franciscan” was the
word most of all current in their discourse.
This morning entering the court-yard of the house, I
encountered the pink-cheeked old lady; and smiling, but
somewhat in a mysterious voice, she said to me :—“ Oh,
Fraulein, please to wait a moment; the gracious Franciscan
is there !”
I smelt even upon the threshold of the house a delicious
odour of incense. I longed to go in and see1 what the
mysterious Franciscan, with his delicious incense, could be
about. However, that never would have done—it would
have been far too impertinent. I waited, therefore, outside
the house until he should take his departure. Every now
and then I caught a glimpse of a priest’s head and white
AN ART-STUDENT IN MUNICH.
entering, I found. Her neighbours never knocked; but
the Franciscan did, it seems. Whilst I sat sketching, I
heard the word “ Franciscan,” “ Franciscan,” again and
again on the lips of the old woman and her gossips, who
were everlastingly dropping in, either to talk with her, or
to stare at me ! “ Franciscan” was about the sole word
I understood of their jargon; for speaking among them-
selves, their German became something very different to
that in which they addressed “ the gracious young lady.”
Yes, there were several other words which fell upon my
ear—“ cold,” “ wood,” and “clearing-up.” “ Abratnnen”
seemed the great word of all. a Jo, jo, abraumen ; Den
Hof kehren” those were the great subjects of conversa-
tion with a silly-looking, pale-faced little woman, who had
big round eyes, big round gold rings in her ears, and a
white cloth tied over her head. It was also the staple of
discourse with the burly, fat, gruff-voiced woman who
possessed a dirty face, and had a crimson ’kerchief tied
over her head; as well as with the pink-cheeked, soft
blue-eyed old woman, who looked like a gentlewoman, she
was so clean and sprightly. But “Franciscan” was the
word most of all current in their discourse.
This morning entering the court-yard of the house, I
encountered the pink-cheeked old lady; and smiling, but
somewhat in a mysterious voice, she said to me :—“ Oh,
Fraulein, please to wait a moment; the gracious Franciscan
is there !”
I smelt even upon the threshold of the house a delicious
odour of incense. I longed to go in and see1 what the
mysterious Franciscan, with his delicious incense, could be
about. However, that never would have done—it would
have been far too impertinent. I waited, therefore, outside
the house until he should take his departure. Every now
and then I caught a glimpse of a priest’s head and white