Georg Znaeym The wealthy owner of wide stretches of hunting grounds and forest in the Carpathian Mountains, Ulrich most closely guards one particular strip of forest because Georg Znaeym also claims ownership over it. Ulrich has become even more devoted to protecting the land and defeating the Znaeyms than the earlier generations of his family were. He roams the forest with a posse of men and his rifle, hoping to shoot Georg instead of game. However, when Ulrich is finally alone with Georg, a near-death experience causes Ulrich to rethink his priorities, and offer peace and friendship to his life-long rival.
Munro February 2, In a forest of mixed growth somewhere on the eastern spurs of the Karpathians, a man stood one winter night watching and listening, as though he waited for some beast of the woods to come within the range of his vision, and, later, of his rifle.
A famous law suit, in the days of his grandfather, had wrested it from the illegal possession of a neighbouring family of petty landowners; the dispossessed party had never acquiesced in the judgment of the Courts, and a long series of poaching affrays and similar scandals had embittered the relationships between the families for three generations.
The neighbour feud had grown into a personal one since Ulrich had come to be head of his family; if there was a man in the world whom he detested and wished ill to it was Georg Znaeym, the inheritor of the quarrel and the tireless game-snatcher and raider of the disputed border-forest.
The roebuck, which usually kept in the sheltered hollows during a storm-wind, were running like driven things to-night, and there was movement and unrest among the creatures that were wont to sleep through the dark hours. Assuredly there was a disturbing element in the forest, and Ulrich could guess the quarter from whence it came.
He strayed away by himself from the watchers whom he had placed in ambush on the crest of the hill, The interlopers ulrich von gradwitz wandered far down the steep slopes amid the wild tangle of undergrowth, peering through the tree trunks and listening through the whistling and skirling of the wind and the restless beating of the branches for sight and sound of the marauders.
If only on this wild night, in this dark, lone spot, he might come across Georg Znaeym, man to man, with none to witness— that was the wish that was uppermost in his thoughts.
And as he stepped round the trunk of a huge beech he came face to face with the man he sought. The two enemies stood glaring at one another for a long silent moment.
Each had a rifle in his hand, each had hate in his heart and murder uppermost in his mind. The chance had come to give full play to the passions of a lifetime.
But a man who has been brought up under the code of a restraining civilisation cannot easily nerve himself to shoot down his neighbour in cold blood and without word spoken, except for an offence against his hearth and honour.
A fierce shriek of the storm had been answered by a splitting crash over their heads, and ere they could leap aside a mass of falling beech tree had thundered down on them. Ulrich von Gradwitz found himself stretched on the ground, one arm numb beneath him and the other held almost as helplessly in a tight tangle of forked branches, while both legs were pinned beneath the fallen mass.
His heavy shooting-boots had saved his feet from being crushed to pieces, but if his fractures were not as serious as they might have been, at least it was evident that he could not move from his present position till some one came to release him.
The descending twig had slashed the skin of his face, and he had to wink away some drops of blood from his eyelashes before he could take in a general view of the disaster. At his side, so near that under ordinary circumstances he could almost have touched him, lay Georg Znaeym, alive and struggling, but obviously as helplessly pinioned down as himself.
All round them lay a thick- strewn wreckage of splintered branches and broken twigs.
Georg, who was early blinded with the blood which trickled across his eyes, stopped his struggling for a moment to listen, and then gave a short, snarling laugh. Ho, what a jest, Ulrich von Gradwitz snared in his stolen forest.
I have men, too, in the forest to-night, close behind me, and THEY will be here first and do the releasing. Your men will find you dead under a fallen beech tree. We fight this quarrel out to the death, you and I and our foresters, with no cursed interlopers to come between us.
Death and damnation to you, Ulrich von Gradwitz. Both had now given up the useless struggle to free themselves from the mass of wood that held them down; Ulrich limited his endeavours to an effort to bring his one partially free arm near enough to his outer coat-pocket to draw out his wine-flask.
Even when he had accomplished that operation it was long before he could manage the unscrewing of the stopper or get any of the liquid down his throat. But what a Heaven-sent draught it seemed! It was an open winter, and little snow had fallen as yet, hence the captives suffered less from the cold than might have been the case at that season of the year; nevertheless, the wine was warming and reviving to the wounded man, and he looked across with something like a throb of pity to where his enemy lay, just keeping the groans of pain and weariness from crossing his lips.
Let us drink, even if to-night one of us dies. An idea was slowly forming and growing in his brain, an idea that gained strength every time that he looked across at the man who was fighting so grimly against pain and exhaustion. In the pain and languor that Ulrich himself was feeling the old fierce hatred seemed to be dying down.
It was a fair compact. If my men are the first to come you shall be the first to be helped, as though you were my guest. Neighbour, if you will help me to bury the old quarrel I—I will ask you to be my friend. Then he spoke slowly and in jerks.
No one living can remember seeing a Znaeym and a von Gradwitz talking to one another in friendship.
And what peace there would be among the forester folk if we ended our feud to-night.
And if we choose to make peace among our people there is none other to interfere, no interlopers from outside. You would come and keep the Sylvester night beneath my roof, and I would come and feast on some high day at your castle.Ulrich von Gradwitz In Saki’s story, “The Interlopers”, Ulrich von Gradwitz proves to be a man of polar opposite traits.
Ulrich von Gradwitz is a man who uses violence to . In a forest of mixed growth somewhere on the eastern spurs of the Carpathians, a man stood one winter night watching and listening, as though he waited for some beast of the woods to come within the range of his vision, and, later, of his rifle.
Get an answer for 'In "The Interlopers," what is surprising and ironic about the ending? What did you expect to happen and what actually happened? What type of irony is this?' and find homework. Ulrich (German pronunciation:), is a German given name, derived from Old High German Uodalrich, timberdesignmag.com is composed of the elements uodal-meaning "(noble) heritage" and -rich meaning "rich, powerful".
Attested from the 8th century as the name of Alamannic nobility, the name is popularly given from the high medieval period in reference to Saint Ulrich of Augsburg (canonized ).
The The Interlopers quotes below are all either spoken by Ulrich von Gradwitz or refer to Ulrich von Gradwitz.
For each quote, you can also see the other characters and themes related to it (each theme is indicated by its own dot and icon, like this one. In a forest of mixed growth somewhere on the eastern spurs of the Karpathians, a man stood one winter night watching and listening, as though he waited for some beast of the woods to come within the range of his vision, and, later, of his rifle.