THE MADNESS OF ANDELSPRUTZ


I first saw the city of Andelsprutz on an afternoon in spring. The day was
full of sunshine as I came by the way of the fields, and all that morning
I had said, "There will be sunlight on it when I see for the first time
the beautiful conquered city whose fame has so often made for me lovely
dreams." Suddenly I saw its fortifications lifting out of the fields, and
behind them stood its belfries. I went in by a gate and saw its houses and
streets, and a great disappointment came upon me. For there is an air
about a city, and it has a way with it, whereby a man may recognized one
from another at once. There are cities full of happiness and cities full
of pleasure, and cities full of gloom. There are cities with their faces
to heaven, and some with their faces to earth; some have a way of looking
at the past and others look at the future; some notice you if you come
among them, others glance at you, others let you go by. Some love the
cities that are their neighbours, others are dear to the plains and to the
heath; some cities are bare to the wind, others have purple cloaks and
others brown cloaks, and some are clad in white. Some tell the old tale of
their infancy, with others it is secret; some cities sing and some mutter,
some are angry, and some have broken hearts, and each city has her way of
greeting Time.

I had said: "I will see Andelsprutz arrogant with her beauty," and I had
said: "I will see her weeping over her conquest."