What could he not do, the dear boy? Not to speak of his wonderful
success in amusing little Jean Ulrick, Mr. Fabian's sole heir, he was
able to read aloud to his aunt from her favorite volume, and to repeat
with almost sublime patience, all those tender passages to which she in
a plaintive tone would sigh _de capo_. More than all this. He could
sing--the model nephew--and accompany his voice with the guitar not only
to the tune of "my love and I," but also to his aunt's favorite ballad,
"In the shadows of the wood; in the cavern hid away." And finally there
was not a female domestic in the house who dared to compete with
Gottlieb in the art of chopping string beans. In short, he was a nephew
whose peer could not be found in all Sweden, and who knows whether the
piece of linen he chose from the bleachery was the last he received from
his indulgent aunt.
Poor Gottlieb, while you are thus the prime favorite of your strong
minded aunt, having free access to the pantries and dairy-rooms, have
you no misgivings that the day will arrive when the doors of this house
shall be closed against you? Relentless fate who ever demands a
sacrifice.
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