Get 20M+ Full-Text Papers For Less Than $1.50/day. Start a 14-Day Trial for You or Your Team.

Learn More →

THE LAST OF HIS LINE

THE LAST OF HIS LINE Silent and morose the servants sat in the kitchen. The firstborn son of a Graubünden family wanders through the house followed by his dogs, who are quivering with exhaustion. Their whines, fi laments of stray dreams, sound like a feminine voice, hoarse and grieving. With utter submissiveness they await execution. Veiled gazes. Yellowed eye sockets turned toward their master, Caspar, an old bachelor. His line ends with him and began in the portraits on the wall of a long corridor with the features of Ursulina. Bride, mother, and widow. Three theological virtues. In the expression on her face, faith, hope, and charity were absent. Her descendants, beside her on the wall, as if they had not had a real existence, live in the portraits. The last generation are children. Anton at seven and Stephan at nine. They are standing, with the gentlest expression of apathy. They are Caspar’s brothers. Having posed for the portraits, they seem to say: “We are no more.” And more or less that was what happened. It was a winter day. The white landscape showed in the narrow windows. The house was constructed like a fortress, isolated from the rest of the town, and http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Common Knowledge Duke University Press

THE LAST OF HIS LINE

Common Knowledge , Volume 11 (1) – Jan 1, 2005

Loading next page...
 
/lp/duke-university-press/the-last-of-his-line-wQEis9wcKr

References

References for this paper are not available at this time. We will be adding them shortly, thank you for your patience.

Publisher
Duke University Press
Copyright
Copyright 2005 by Duke University Press
ISSN
0961-754X
eISSN
1538-4578
DOI
10.1215/0961754X-11-1-122
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

Silent and morose the servants sat in the kitchen. The firstborn son of a Graubünden family wanders through the house followed by his dogs, who are quivering with exhaustion. Their whines, fi laments of stray dreams, sound like a feminine voice, hoarse and grieving. With utter submissiveness they await execution. Veiled gazes. Yellowed eye sockets turned toward their master, Caspar, an old bachelor. His line ends with him and began in the portraits on the wall of a long corridor with the features of Ursulina. Bride, mother, and widow. Three theological virtues. In the expression on her face, faith, hope, and charity were absent. Her descendants, beside her on the wall, as if they had not had a real existence, live in the portraits. The last generation are children. Anton at seven and Stephan at nine. They are standing, with the gentlest expression of apathy. They are Caspar’s brothers. Having posed for the portraits, they seem to say: “We are no more.” And more or less that was what happened. It was a winter day. The white landscape showed in the narrow windows. The house was constructed like a fortress, isolated from the rest of the town, and

Journal

Common KnowledgeDuke University Press

Published: Jan 1, 2005

There are no references for this article.