In addition, other elements joined in with this circle, which appeared to be incompatible with it. Schlegel was in closer relationship with Iffland. He wished the performance of “Hamlet” after his translation, and could not deny Iffland his admiration as an actor. He also sought to win Tieck for the celebrated artist; but he could neither recognize him as a dramatic writer, nor could he tune into the admiration of his play; After all, he had caused the commentator to complain of this admiration. It was incomprehensible to him how one thought of Iffland’s great but always petty calculating talent of Fleck’s bold genius could prefer. As masterful as he might be in middle, temperate or comic roles, his playing was a painstakingly composed image of many small strokes that betrayed intention everywhere. Among these artificial details, nature was lost. Although Iffland showed himself friendly and accommodating, and also believed that his approval of the Sternbald had to be pronounced, Tieck could not trust him. He also thought he recognized calculation and manner, and repeated his view that he should not be drawn into the circle to which he did not fit; he is a two-sided nature that lacks inner truth.
Temprano a la mañana siguiente, los niños, que habían dormido en la cabaña de Steve mientras su madre y hermanas habían usado la habitación de Jennie, fueron despertados por Andy, quien estaba hablando con seriedad con Steve.
Comenzando a levantarse sobre su codo, Phil fue arrastrado hacia atrás por su hermano, quien le hizo un gesto para que se quedara quieto y escuchara.
“No sé si podremos detenerlo o no”, decía el agente. “Es una pena que la señora Porter y las chicas no hayan podido esperar un poco más. Será una gran decepción para ellos salir de aquí y luego ver cómo su reclamo desaparece. Regresé por el campamento y envié los jacks a la E 1. Le dije a Thomas que los pusiera en el trabajo, arrastrando el cepillo que hemos limpiado de nuevo hacia los campos al oeste. Abrí la puerta principal cuando llegué. Por la forma en que iban las cosas, no creo que sea posible salvar a Jay. Él y Joy estaban empacando lo que podían y lo estaban cargando en su vieja goleta. Los llevarán a ellos y a su ganado al shakedown de los niños. Si no podemos detener el incendio en E 1, arrastrará el país hasta su campamento. Cállate sobre salir para no despertar a Ted y Phil. Temo que estén tan ansiosos por ayudar que se metan en problemas. No saben nada acerca de combatir el fuego “.
A few nights after Gustav Adolf’s home came home, we will marvel at the majesty alone in his room in solitude. Normally, at this time of the day, he was in the circle of his relatives, either playing with them whistling or setting himself a “diplomat”.
Outside the spacer was a step. Major listened intently as a child who is afraid to be surprised at unauthorized work. The comer was just Kristian.
“Or did you, my son,” he said. “Come see how my diplomat goes!”
“Why are you sitting here, Dad, and not as usual upstairs?” asked Kristian, sitting comfortably on the sofa corner, which at least not seemed to come up next hop.
It was a Saturday, the most beautiful day of the seven: and I went out “in the setting of the sun” from the gate of Monte Morello to the hill called Monte Tabor. Of the spring, however, irresolute I had already seen in the morning, coming from the Port to the city of Recanati, to raise the land two signs among the pallor of the olive trees; a candid, a rosy, of an almond tree and a peach tree. And in the brave and the greppi I saw now the daisies close again for the nocturnal eve the faded petals of pink that had appeared in the day (white-haired brides tinged with redness at the blossoming of the star); while I adored the footsteps of the poet, leaving behind me the “plaza” full of the “happy noise” of the children and going to the “ermo colle”  he had felt in the soul the “interminated spaces” and the “superhumans” silences. ” The hill is no longer that, having been partly cut to give rise to a new road, and planted and cleaned and combed to become a public garden, the Pincio; but “ermo” was also that Saturday evening. And shouts of children could be heard, happy for the feast of tomorrow; but here and there, from afar; and they just veered the taciturnity of the sunset. A peasant came back with his spade on his shoulder, his face wrinkled in the glare of the sun. An old woman returned with a small bundle of sticks on her head. Another one stopped against. They stood, blurring in a different and continuous sparkle, speaking in a faint sound of remote voices. They talked for a long time: they were shaking their heads. The “good time” seemed to have never known him.