Georg Ebers

Barbara Blomberg


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       Georg Ebers

      Barbara Blomberg

       Historical Romance

       Translator: Mary J. Safford

      e-artnow, 2020

       Contact: [email protected]

      EAN: 4064066386580

      Table of Contents

       Book 1.

       Chapter I.

       Chapter II.

       Chapter III.

       Chapter IV.

       Chapter V.

       Chapter VI.

       Chapter VII.

       Chapter VIII.

       Chapter IX.

       Chapter X.

       Chapter XI.

       Chapter XII.

       Chapter XIII.

       Chapter XIV.

       Chapter XV.

       Chapter XVI.

       Chapter XVII.

       Chapter XVIII.

       Chapter XIX.

       Chapter XX.

       Chapter XXI.

       Chapter XXII.

       Chapter XXIII.

       Chapter XXIV.

       Chapter XXV.

       Chapter XXVI.

       Book 2.

       Chapter I.

       Chapter II.

       Chapter III.

       Chapter IV.

       Chapter V.

       Chapter VI.

       Chapter VII.

       Chapter VIII.

       Chapter IX.

       Chapter X.

       Chapter XI.

       Chapter XII.

       Chapter XIII.

       Chapter XIV.

       Chapter XV.

       Chapter XVI.

       Chapter XVII.

       Chapter XVIII.

      BOOK 1.

       Table of Contents

      CHAPTER I.

       Table of Contents

      The sun sometimes shone brightly upon the little round panes of the ancient building, the Golden Cross, on the northern side of the square, which the people of Ratisbon call “on the moor”; sometimes it was veiled by gray clouds. A party of nobles, ecclesiastics, and knights belonging to the Emperor’s train were just coming out. The spring breeze banged behind them the door of the little entrance for pedestrians close beside the large main gateway.

      The courtiers and ladies who were in the chapel at the right of the corridor started. “April weather!” growled the corporal of the Imperial Halberdiers to the comrade with whom he was keeping; guard at the foot of the staircase leading to the apartments of Charles V, in the second story of the huge old house.

      “St. Peter’s day,” replied the other, a Catalonian. “At my home fresh strawberries are now growing in the open air and roses are blooming in the gardens. Take it all in all, it’s better to be dead in Barcelona than alive in this accursed land of heretics!”

      “Come, come,” replied the other,