Die vom Niederrhein : $b Roman

A grey river rolls past Düsseldorf, its waters muffling the clang of bridge timbers and the relentless patter of rain that has turned the whole landscape into a dim, silver‑ed veil. The low‑lying towns—Oberkassel, Kaiserswerth, the old fort on the island—appear as dark silhouettes, while the towering Academy looms over a jumble of weathered huts and makeshift warehouses. The air is thick with damp heat, a sensation that seems to set every pulse awake, and the constant drip of water blends with the creaking wood of the Rhine’s barges.

Amid this soggy tableau, a wiry boatman named Lambert idles in his cabin, clumsily squeezing a battered harmonica and stitching together folk tunes with a lazy, half‑hearted rhythm. His wife, sharp‑tongued and impatient, hauls him back to duty with a mix of teasing insults and practical concern. Their banter, steeped in local dialect, offers a glimpse into the everyday lives of the river’s workers, hinting at the challenges and small joys that will shape their world as the river continues its relentless flow.