"Up yonder, up yonder,At the heavenly gate,A poor soul is standingIn sorrowful strait."
"Up yonder, up yonder,
At the heavenly gate,
A poor soul is standing
In sorrowful strait."
Then he cried "Nat," and they were in each other's arms.
* * * * *
After long pathless wanderings, our story has reached a smooth highway which will bear it rapidly to its close. Ivo remained with Nat, who treated him like a brother. As one of the richest farmers in the country, he could do much for him without feeling a sacrifice. He went to Nordstetten as his proxy, and brought Emmerence, with whom, on a bright, happy day, Ivo was united.
All the villagers, and even his parents, were reconciled to his change of pursuits. It is strange how easily people are satisfied with their friends the moment they pay their own expenses.
Nat presented Ivo with the saw-mill, where he now worked to his heart's content, in company with his Emmerence. Often of an evening he sits under the walnut-tree and plays his bugle, which fills the valley with its melody. Far around, at the isolated farm-houses, the boys and girls stand in the moonshine listening to the plaintive tones. Emmerence once drew Ivo's attention to this; and he said, "You see, music is an emblem of human life as it should be. I play for our own satisfaction; and yet if I know that the sounds gladden the hearts of other men also, I am still better pleased, and play with more life and spirit. Let every man attend to his own business well, and he will help others too, and make them happy. I am not disinterested enough to be satisfied with playing tunes for other people to dance by. I like to dance myself."
"Yes," said Emmerence: "you are a learned man, and yet I understand you. When the boys used to sing while gathering fir-nuts in the Neckar valley, I always thought, 'Well, they sing for themselves; and yet it makes me happy to hear them too, and every one who has ears;' and so do the birds sing for themselves, and yet we are delighted; and if every one sings his part well in church it all chords well together, and is beautiful."
Ivo embraced his Emmerence with transport.
"If only winter never came here," she said; "for it is rather solitary."
"Well, in winter you must come and live with me," said the well-known voice of Nat.
On Saturday afternoon the house of the Red TailorThe Red Tailor.was alive with singing. Doors were opened and closed with a bang, windows thrown up, chairs and tables moved here and there, and the broom rattled among the lifeless bones; but over all was heard a rich, full, female voice, travelling up and down stairs, into rooms and out of passages. Song followed hard upon song, grave and gay meeting with equal favor. At last the singer was forthcoming,--a girl of stout proportions but the utmost symmetry of form. A jacket of knitted gray yarn set off the swelling outlines to the best advantage: one corner of the apron was tucked up and left the other hanging jauntily. With the milking-pail in her hand, she went to the stable. The words of the songs were now more distinctly audible. One of them ran thus:--
"I climb'd up the cherry-tree;For cherries I don't care.I thought I might my true love see:My true love wasn't there."It isn't long since the rain came down,And all the trees are wet;I had a true love all my own:I wish I had him yet."But he has gone abroad, abroad,To see what luck would do;And I have found another love:He's a good fellow, too."
"I climb'd up the cherry-tree;
For cherries I don't care.
I thought I might my true love see:
My true love wasn't there.
"It isn't long since the rain came down,
And all the trees are wet;
I had a true love all my own:
I wish I had him yet.
"But he has gone abroad, abroad,
To see what luck would do;
And I have found another love:
He's a good fellow, too."
With a water-bucket under her arm, she made her appearance again, locked the door of the house, and concealed the key under a stack of kindling-wood. The well before the town-hall was empty and locked up; the upper well, also under lock and key, was only opened by Soges every morning and evening, and water distributed to each family in proportion to the number of its inmates. This scarcity of water is a great evil, particularly in the heat of summer. On the way our heroine was stopped by Anselm the Jew's Betsy, who cried,--
"Wait, Crescence: I'll go with you."
"Hurry up, then. When is your intended coming back?" returned Crescence.
"At our Pentecost,--this day fortnight."
"When is it to be?"
"Some time after the Feast of Tabernacles. You must dance with us all day, mind. We'll have one more good time of it: we've always been good friends, haven't we?"
"Betsy, you ought to have married Seligmann and stayed here. A bird in the hand's worth two in the bush. Going all the way to Alsace! How do you know what's to become of you after you get there?"
"Why, how you talk!" replied Betsy. "With my four hundred florins, how am I to choose? And over there it counts for almost a thousand francs; and that's more like. Are you going to live in the village always? When your geometer gets an appointment, won't you have to go with him? Oh, did I tell you?--my intended went with Florian to the Schramberg market the other day from Strasbourg. Florian had I don't know how many--at least three hundred--ducats in his girdle, to buy beeves with. He carries himself like a prince, and his master trusts him with all his property. And they do say he's going to give him his daughter."
"I wish him much happiness."
"Now, you needn't make believe you didn't like Florian's little finger better than the whole geometer."
"What if I did? He's got nothing, and I've got nothing; and 'twice nothing is nothing at all,' says George the blacksmith."
The two girls had reached the well, where many of their companions were already awaiting the arrival of the officer of Government.
"Have you heard, Crescence?" cried Christian's Dolly--"Florian's come back an hour ago: you've got a full team to drive now."
"You preach to your grandmother," retorted Crescence: "such a beanpole as you may open every shutter of her windows and '11 never catch a gudgeon."
"That's it," said a girl with forward air and manners, who bore the ominous designation of "Corpse Kitty," because she fitted the shrouds. Passing her hand over her mouth, she went on:--"Give her her change, Crescence: we know it's all cash-down where you come from." She accompanied the words with a significant gesture.
"Oh, you're nervous because nobody will lend you any thing," replied the assailed one. "You're a sweet one, Dolly, to sethera-going."
"Well, what did you fly at Dolly that way for?" said Melchior's Lenore: "she didn't mean any harm by it. Can't you take a little fun?"
"Has Florian really come home?" asked Crescence, softly.
"Of course he has," cried Corpse Kitty, aloud. "Just look out, you hemp-toad: you'll find you've 'most done carrying your head as high as a sleigh-horse: Florian will take the geometer's bearings before you know what's what."
Soges now appeared as another Moses to open the well for the daughters of Jethro: he did not seem to woo any of them, however, for he was not by any means in a bland or amiable frame of mind.
"Give Crescence the cream of the water: she's got to have the geometer's standees washed to-night," cried Kitty.
"Let her talk," said Lenore: "you can't worry her more than by not listening to her. She's just like the dogs: they bark at you, and if you walk on quietly they run home again and bark at the next person that comes along the road. She's after making everybody out as bad as she is herself, if she can. But you must be on the look-out about Florian now, or you'll get into trouble."
"Yes," said another girl: "he's brought lots of money with him, and the first thing he did was to give his father a gold ducat. The money must 'a' looked scared when it got into that room. The old fellow's so poor that the mice all ran away from him."
"Florian can dress and undress himself five times over and not take all the fine clothes out of his chest," said a third.
"And he speaks French 'most all the time."
"And he has a watch, with a chain, and all the tools of his trade hung to it in silver for charms."
"And he's got a black mustache you can hardly help kissing."
A dispute interrupted this torrent of items.
"What're you pushing me so for?" said Corpse Kitty to Kilian's Annie: "I'm not a rich chap."
"Hold your jaw, you!--you've been to the House of Correction twice already, and the third time's written on your forehead now."
"I'll mark your forehead," screeched Kitty, striking at Annie with her bucket; but she parried the blow, and struck another. A fierce struggle ensued: the buckets were dropped, and the combatants "clinched" hand to hand. After looking on passively a while, the others interfered, Soges particularly dealing official blows to the right and left with great vigor and impartiality. Like two fighting-cocks torn asunder, the hostile parties looked daggers at each other as they picked up their buckets. Annie brushed her hair out of her face, crying bitterly, and complaining that nobody was safe, nor ever would be, until Corpse Kitty was in the House of Correction for life.
Crescence's turn having come at last, she carried the heavy bucket home on her head and a still heavier load in her heart. Tears were rolling down her cheeks; but she pretended that they were drops from the bucket, and always wiped the lower rim of it with her apron. There was confusion in her heart now, and she foresaw still greater troubles in the future.
Having returned home, she went through with her work, but without singing another note.
Lest our readers should be at a loss to divine what a titled personage like a geometer should be doing in the village, it is proper to remind them that the general survey of the country took place about this time. Every nook and corner of the land was mapped, labelled, and numbered; and in the course of the operation a new element was infused into the life of the people. A race of "city fellows," belonging neither to the order of parsons nor to that of schoolmasters, made their way into the village: they were generally young, smart, and fond of enjoyment; and the importance they soon acquired among the female portion of the community has already become apparent.
These gentlemen received the sounding title of "geometers." A surveyor was a plain surveyor; and as these people, for some reason or other, were to appear to the peasantry in the light of a superior rank of beings, and, as it was important to disseminate a knowledge of and taste for the classics, they received the Greek addition. Crescence's playmate had married a geometer-general (should he not have been called a hypergeometer?) and lived at Biberach: this had made Crescence acquainted with one of his colleagues, and her parents were most anxious to push matters, for a better "providence" could not have been hoped for. The Red Tailor in his mind's eye already saw his daughter as Madame Geometrix-General.
It was dark. Crescence stood by the fire in the kitchen: the College Chap came in with very audible steps, and said,--
"Crescence, how are you? I want a pound of that tobacco. Have you got any left?"
"Yes, walk in: my mother 'll wait on you."
"I won't poison your soup if I do stay here a bit," he said aloud: then he continued, very softly, "Florian's got home. Come out a little after a while, and you shall hear us."
Without waiting for an answer, he went into the room. When he came out again, Crescence was gone.
A little later the voices of the three comrades were heard before the Red Tailor's house, singing, whistling, and laughing. Florian's, which had long been wanting, was doubly clear and full. Finding all their efforts unavailing, Peter cried under the window,--
"Crescence, isn't this your goose running about here?"
The College Chap, crouching behind the wood-pile, was cackling with the accent of a native.
The window was opened; but, instead of Crescence, the tailor's wife looked out, and said,--
"Crack your jokes before somebody else's house."
With a roar of laughter the College Chap returned to the middle of the road.
Within, Crescence sat with the geometer, paying but little heed to his blandishments: at last she feigned a headache and went to bed.
Tired of their fruitless watch, the three boys in the road bent their steps toward the inn. They had not gone far before they encountered Josey, the French simpleton. The College Chap cried, seizing him by the collar,--
"Qui vive? la bourse on la vie?"
"Paridadoin mullien," calmly replied the person addressed, meaning to say, "What do you want?"
"Here's a jolly lark!" cried the student, triumphantly. "Let's take Josey with us and make him do the geometer. Come; we'll treat you to a mug of beer."
"Moin paroula goin," answered Josey,--as if to say, "I've no objections." His words were all formed by accident; and he eked them out with nods and grins. Originally Josey was not more than half a simpleton; but the half which Nature had denied had been carefully educated into him by the wags of the village. If any villager has a mole in his disposition, he may be assured that his townsmen will stretch it into a mountain for their common behoof and education.
Nobody knew, or cared to know, what had given Josey the notion that he was master of all the living tongues. Some contended that he had been dry-nurse so long as to have acquired the baby-lingo by incessant practice. Be that as it may, it was impossible to address him in any real or imaginary language without receiving an instantaneous reply. This apart, he was as good a field-hand as many others; and, whether he understood the language of the beasts or not, they understood him and did his bidding. In church Josey was the only member of the congregation who nodded at every word of the Latin mass, to imply that he understood it to perfection.
This individual was for this evening the fourth member of the usually so exclusive confederacy of three.
"Bon soir," said Florian, as they entered the bar-room. He received a kindly welcome at all hands. The assembled guests scanned him from head to foot, and nodded to each other with looks that seemed to say, "A fine fellow, Florian; yes, if you want to come home you must go abroad first."
One who sat behind the stove said to his neighbor, "This is a better way to come back than that thief Schlunkel's: he's been twice to the penitentiary, and has just come back. I wish we were rid of him again."
Florian ordered a bottle of wine for himself and his comrades, while Josey was regaled with a mug of beer at an adjoining table.
When Babbett brought the refreshments, he remarked, in an under-tone, but yet loud enough to be heard by all, "Comme elle est jolie!--bien jolie!"
"Qui?" returned the College Chap. The company nudged each other,--to think they could talk French so well together.
Florian treated the whole company,--to their great satisfaction, for, though frequenters of the tavern, they sat there as dry customers: the stimulus made their hearts glad, and the sensation was reflected upon the spirits of Florian. He seemed to have expended his stock of French; for "Snuff thechandelle" is not pure Parisian.
The point of the joke was lost, nevertheless; for the geometer, who put up at the Eagle, was not there.
"Are you going to stay with us, Florian?" asked Babbett.
"Nous verrons: we shall see."
"Tell us something of your travels," said Caspar, the host, who felt it incumbent on him to promote the conversation. "Have you been to Paris?"
"Of course," answered Florian, in a tone of voice in which a shrewd observer would have detected the ring of false metal; "but I didn't like it there. Nancy's the finest place yet. Go into a tavern there, and the walls are all looking-glasses, the tables are marble, and you eat and drink out of nothing but silver. You ought to go there once: you'd open your eyes and ears."
These signs of absorbing attention now showed themselves in Florian's own features; for the geometer, with his two colleagues, entered the room. They passed through to the little back parlor, where a table was set for them.
Florian seized his glass, made it clink against those of his friends, and said, "A votre santé."
Caspar had lost his interest in Florian's narration, and hastened to meet the new-comers and light them to their supportable, which was set in the back room. Florian, twirling his mustache, asked Constantine, very softly, "Which is it?"
"The lobsided one, with long hair, that came in first."
For a time all were silent, and nothing was heard but the clatter of knives and forks behind the screen.
But suddenly Constantine began to sing:--
"Oh, man of geometry,Pull up your pegs:How can you see straight with suchShocking round legs?"
"Oh, man of geometry,
Pull up your pegs:
How can you see straight with such
Shocking round legs?"
A burst of laughter filled the room, instantly succeeded by another silence. The knives and forks behind the screen were breathless also.
Florian got up and said to Josey, "Comment vous portez-vous, Monsieur Géomètre?"
"Quadulta loing," replied Josey, who continued to talk gibberish, amid renewed peals of laughter.
"'Wish you joy of your berth," said Constantine, taking the mop from the slop-bucket. "Here: just survey this table for me: you can do it very well, you know, for there's no need of brains."
Amid constant and increasing merriment, Josey entered upon his labors, and proceeded until Babbett came up, saying,--
"Have done with this, now, and crack your jokes somewhere else. Be quiet, Josey, or go about your business."
Josey struck the table and jabbered grimly. The screen was suddenly pushed aside, and Steinhaeuser, the admirer of Crescence, appeared, restrained by his two comrades from assaulting the mocker. Caspar tried to pacify him, and, as soon as he had partially succeeded, he stepped up to the three, and said, with more decision than might have been expected,--
"I'll tell you what: this sort of thing can't be done on my premises; and the sooner you know it the better. Drink your wine quietly, or I'll show you what's outside of the door. I won't have my guests insulted while I'm master of this house. No offence to one; but I will have order."
"Juste," said Florian: "all right: I'll find the gentleman somewhere else in good time. You hear, you lobsided lout over there? If I catch you within half a mile of Crescence again, I'll knock your crooked legs into a cocked hat, and then you may toddle on your tripod."
"You ragamuffin!" roared Steinhaeuser, before whom Caspar had posted himself. Florian made for him with a "Comapulation smash!foudre de Dieu!" but Caspar hauled him back, and Constantine was shrewd enough to interfere as a peacemaker.
The three left the house, followed by Josey. On the road they vowed never to patronize the Eagle again. Florian made an effort to go back, however: he hadn't given the landlord all his change.
Constantine was shrewd enough to interfere as a peacemaker.
"Thunder an' ouns!" said Constantine, "stay here, I tell you. You're the best man for flying off the handle in Wurtemberg. Be quiet, now: we'll manage to lay the geometer out some time, and make him forget the resurrection of the legs."
This counsel prevailed; and, to compensate themselves for their enforced inaction, they travelled through the village, the College Chap howling like a whipped dog, and making, as he expressed it, all the dogs in the houses rebellious.
Next day Crescence did not dress in her Sunday clothes to go to church, but complained of being unwell, and remained at home.
The tailor, when he came home from church and saw his daughter in dishabille, said,--
"What's that? Be quiet, I tell you, once and for all," he continued, seeing Crescence about to speak. "You don't feel very well, because Florian's come back, and you don't want to be seen in the street. I've heard all about the fuss he had with the geometer last night. Now, just for spite, you must go to the Horb Garden to-day with the geometer. That's what I tell you: and one word's as good as a thousand."
"I'm sick."
"No use. Go up-stairs and dress yourself, or I'll measure your clothes with this yardstick."
"Let him talk," said the tailor's wife, who had entered by this time: "what he says is for the mice to dance by. Crescence, if you don't feel well, stay at home. If it depended on him, you wouldn't have a shred of clothes to put on, good or bad: all he can do is to put his feet under the table three times a day and get himself fed like a billet of soldiers."
The tailor advanced upon Crescence; but his wife posted herself in front of her, clenched her fists, and scared her liege-lord into a corner.
These people were fresh from church, where they had prayed and sung of love, peace, and happiness. Their hymn-books were still in their hands, and already had Discord resumed its reign.
Indeed, we have stumbled upon a peculiar household. The mother had been the parson's cook, and had married the tailor rather suddenly. Crescence was her oldest child, and she had, besides, a son and a daughter. She still wore citizen's dress, with the sole exception of the black cap of the peasant-woman, which, from its superiority in cheapness to the lace caps of the votaries of Paris, seems destined to survive all other traces of the peculiar costume of the peasantry.
During the early part of their wedded life they lived together very harmoniously; for where there is plenty of all things needful none but the most quarrelsome contract habits of dispute. Such a state of things is entitled, among the refined as well as among the vulgar, a happy match!
The tailor worked at his trade, and his wife kept a little shop for the sale of groceries and odds and ends.
But what is more subject to the fashions than those kings of fashion, the tailors? Balt only worked for the gentlefolks and for the Jews, who also wore citizens' dress: make peasants' clothes he could not,--and would not, for he had been to Berlin. New competitors established themselves in the village and in the neighborhood, and Balt would run about for days without finding work.
This induced him to enter upon a speculation, in which we find him still engaged. He went to Stuttgard in company with Anselm Meyer, Betsy's father, and bought old clothes to make new ones of. He particularly affected the old scarlet swallow-tail coats of the court footmen, in procuring which Anselm was of great assistance to him, as he had made acquaintances in high places in the times when all things wanted for the court were obtained on the contract-system. These liveries were cut up into red waistcoats for the peasants, such as are worn in the Black Forest to this day. They also purchased the old uniforms of the officers, and transformed the red lining of the warrior's habiliments into vestments for the peaceful shepherd. It was said, however, that Anselm managed to monopolize the lion's share of the profits, besides securing an additional commission at the hands of the illustrious venders.
From the time that Balt went out of fashion and the fortunes of the house began to ebb, the couple ceased the practice of ever exchanging a word of good feeling. Balt was scarcely permitted to hold a spoon in his hand long enough to eat his dinner. He could hardly call his soul his own; and, though nominally the master-tailor, he had not the power to cut a piece of bacon to his liking of a Sunday. Wherever he was, he was in his wife's way: she was absolute mistress, for she went on a trip every fall, and after her return the establishment always showed symptoms of a good supply of funds.
The children clung to the mother, of course, for not only had Balt fallen from his high estate, but he was not much at home. He hardly showed himself, except to eat and sleep. The former was well salted with pithy conversation, and the latter soothed with a well-ordered lecture.
Crescence now looked contemptuously at her father. The geometer entered, and at once the father and mother ran over with the milk of human kindness and loved each other tenderly. Crescence alone looked sad, and her lips trembled.
"Hurry, Crescence, and get dressed," said her mother. "Mr. Geometer, will you take dinner with us to-day? Do, please. It's nothing much, to-be-sure,--sourcrout, dumplings, and ham; but you'll like it for all that: Crescence did the cooking." A shrill giggle accompanied almost every word, the effect of which was further enhanced by a way the good lady had of twitching her nose as she spoke.
Balt exerted all his eloquence, and almost resorted to "gentle compulsion," to induce the geometer to stay. He took his hat out of his hand and refused to return it, well knowing that if the geometer stayed there would not only be a peaceful dinner, but perhaps also a quart of beer. This hope was realized. Cordele, the youngest daughter, was sent to the Eagle, and returned with a bottle under her apron,--a concealment not owing to any scruple of public opinion on the subject of temperance, but to that desire to make a secret of every thing which arises in every village as a foil to the habitual endeavor of everybody to know every thing about everybody else's business.
Crescence, finely dressed, but with eyes inflamed with weeping, brought the dinner. To guard against inquiries, she complained of smoke in the kitchen. Thus the dinner was richly spiced with falsehood. Before the geometer had half cleared his plate the worthy hostess put another piece upon it. He thanked her heartily for this hospitality, not perceiving that the good lady had only removed the savory morsel to snatch it away from her lord and master, who had honored it with his preference. From a similar motive, she took such excellent care to keep the guest's glass replenished that very little of the beverage came to the tailor's lips. The conversation was carried on by the lady of the house and the geometer exclusively. When the latter narrated the insolence of Florian, Crescence blushed, but found an excuse for leaving the table.
After dinner Balt said, "Now, wife, get in a cup of coffee."
"None for me, I thank you," said the geometer.
The tailor's wife was not so ill-mannered as to press the refreshment upon her guest against his will, for she grudged her husband his share of it. She afterward boiled a cup for herself, and toasted a biscuit to eat with it.
When the afternoon church was over, Crescence could not avoid taking a walk with the geometer; but she managed to keep clear of the street and go along the back fences of the gardens. When they approached George's ninepin-alley, she started with fright on seeing Florian standing there in his shirt-sleeves with his back to the road. Throwing a piece of money on the ground, he said, "'Bet you six creutzers I'll make five." Under the pretext of having forgotten something, Crescence turned round quickly, and the geometer had nothing to do but to follow her. On arriving at home, they surprised her mother at her private cup of coffee,--which was unpleasant. They now took the street of the village.
Florian had no other design on this Sunday than to attract attention, in which he succeeded brilliantly. Everybody spoke of him,--of his black velvet roundabout with silver buttons, his free rifleman's vest of red and black stripes, and his other glories. The people of a village, as of a city, are grateful to any one who will furnish them with a subject of conversation. The old butcher, Florian's father, drank in the fame of his son from every mouth, and did his best to keep it at the full. He was still rather a handsome man himself, with a rubicund face and bright gray eyes. He walked about in his shirt-sleeves and carried his handkerchief in the armpit of his waistcoat,--which gave him an air of originality. Whenever he met any one, he drew out his snuff-box and offered a pinch of "doppelmops," saying, "My Florian brought it with him: he's a fine fellow, a'n't he? None like him for twenty miles around. His master would give him his daughter in a minute, but the rapscallion won't have her. His master makes more out of hoofs than three Horb butchers do out of beef: he kills eight calves every day and two or three oxen besides. What would you think," he would generally add, taking off his little frontless cap, formed in the resemblance of a cabbage-leaf, and putting it on again, "if I was to go to Strasbourg and marry the girl? If she must have a tall man, why shouldn't the old one be as good as the young? I won't back out for any one yet a while."
He stopped longest at the door of GeorgeHe stopped at the door of George the blacksmith.the blacksmith,--a childless old man of more than eighty years of age,--who was always sitting before his house at the roadside and hearing the news from all who passed by. Old George and old Maurita of the Bridge were the two persons through whom a piece of news could be brought to the cognizance of every soul in the village. George repeated every thing, good or bad, to tease others and to show them that he knew every thing; Maurita told the good news to impart her gladness, and the sad ones to obtain sharers in her regret. George the blacksmith was the largest purchaser of the old butcher's vaunts.
Thus the Sunday passed; and, when Crescence returned with the geometer, long after dark, she thanked her stars that the dreaded fracas had not occurred.
Crescence rose an hour before daybreak next morning, fed the cattle, and attended quietly to the house-affairs. Once she looked up with pain when it occurred to her that she had not hummed a single tune. She went into the field.
With a bundle of fresh clover on her head,Crescence with a bundle of fresh clover on her head.she came up the valley on her return, looking beautiful, as the healthful exercise brought out her fine form in all its strength and pliancy. With her right hand she held the bundle, and with her left the rake, which lay on her shoulder and also served to steady the load. She walked with leisurely and measured pace, the red blossoms blinking into her rosy face. Not far from Jacob's crucifix, the voice of Florian, who said, "God bless you, Crescence!" rooted her to the earth.
"Come," said Florian, again; "I'll carry it for you."
"For pity's sake, don't make me stop here, Florian, when all the people are looking at us. You see I can't help myself now, and can't run away, but I'll never speak a word to you again as long as I live if you don't go away. Come to Melchior's Lenore to-night before curfew, and I'll tell you every thing."
"Shake hands, won't you?"
Laying her left arm across the rake, Crescence took his hand, saying, "Good-bye till to-night."
All at once, in resuming her steps, Crescence perceived what a heavy load she had to carry: she groaned as if Firnut Pete had clambered on her shoulders in broad daylight. Having reached the crucifix, she deposited the burden on the high stone erected there for that purpose. This silent assistant is always found beside the symbol of faith. At the feet of Him who laid the heaviest burden on himself to make men free and brotherly, men take off a while the load of the day, to gather strength for further toil.
Crescence looked intently at the crucifix, but without thinking of what she did; for her mind was occupied with dread of Florian's following her. She determined not to turn round to look at him, and did turn, nevertheless; while a glow of pleasure lighted her face as she saw the brisk young fellow striding across the field.
All that day Crescence was serious and taciturn. Before dark, she took a collar, to get Walpurgia to wash it, as she said; but, instead of going to Walpurgia, she hurried to Lenore's house. The latter came to meet her, saying,--
"Go through the barn: you'll find him in the garden."
"Come with me," said Crescence.
"I'm coming directly: just you go first."
As she entered the garden, Crescence saw Florian sitting on a log,Crescence saw Florian sitting on a log.stooping greatly, and digging into the wood with a knife which looked somewhat like a stiletto. His long chestnut hair nearly covered his forehead.
"Florian, what are you doing?" asked Crescence.
He threw the knife aside, shook his hair out of his face threw his arms around Crescence, and kissed her. She offered no resistance, but at length said,--
"There! that's enough now: you are just the same you always were."
"Yes; but you're not what you used to be."
"Not a bit changed. You are cross because I go with the geometer, a'n't you? Well, you know you and I could never have got married. My folks won't let me go to service; and stay with them I don't want to, either, until my hair turns gray."
"If that's the way, and you like the geometer, I've nothing more to say: you might have told me that this morning. I remember a time when the king might have come,--and he owns the whole country, which is more than helping to measure it,--and you'd have said, 'No, thank you: I like my Florian better, even if he have nothing but the clothes on his back.'"
"Why, how you talk! What's the use of all that when we never can get married?"
"Oh, yes: there's the Red Tailor's daughter all over. If I'd only never cast eyes on you again! If I'd only broken both my legs before they ever carried me back home!"
"Oh, don't be so solemn, now! You'll look kindly at me yet, and laugh with me a little when you meet me, won't you?"
She gave him a look of playful tenderness, and smiled,--though she was more disposed to weep. Florian, picking up his knife and putting it in his pocket, made a move to go, when Crescence seized his hand and said,--
"Don't be angry with me, Florian: talk to me, dear. Don't you see? I haven't married the geometer yet, but cut him I can't now: my folks would throttle me in my sleep if I was to turn him off. Nothing can come of it for two or three years, anyhow; and who knows what may happen in that time? Perhaps I shall die. I wish I would, I'm sure."
Her voice was choked.
Florian's manner suddenly changed. The languor so unusual in him was gone: their eyes met, and held each other beaming with joy.
"You see," he began, "as I sat there waiting, I felt as if somebody had broken all my bones. I was thinking how unlucky we are, and again and again I was tempted to stab myself with this knife. If some one had come under my hands, I don't know---- And I don't want to go away, either; and I must stay here; and I must have you."
"Yes; I wish you had; but we can't live on the old Emperor's exchequer. I know somebody who could help us, andIcould make him."
"Never tell me about him: he's nothing to you, and shall be nothing. I won't have it: you are your father's child, and if anybody says any thing else I'll stick him like an eight-day calf. My father has half emptied my pockets already, but I've got some money yet: I mean to stay here a while and work under my father's right as a master-butcher. I want to show these Nordstetters what Florian can do: they shall have respect for me, they shall."
"You're a fine fellow," said Crescence. "Haven't you brought me any thing?"
"Yes, I have. Here."
Taking from his pocket a broad ring of silver, and a flaming heart in colors, with a motto in it, he handed them to Crescence.
After the first expressions of delight, she offered to read the motto; but Florian stopped her, saying, "You can do that after I am gone: now let's have a talk."
"Yes; tell me something. Is it true that you are courting your master's daughter in Strasbourg?"
"Not a bit of it. If I was, I wouldn't stay here; and stay I shall. All the Nordstetters must say that the like of Florian's not to be seen anywhere."
They remained long together. When Crescence returned home, she found the geometer waiting for her, and was forced to receive him with smiles. With a heavy heart she reached her chamber at last, and read the motto on the flaming heart:--
"Better build my grave of stoneThan love and call you not my own."
"Better build my grave of stone
Than love and call you not my own."
Weeping, she laid the picture into her hymn-book. It was the old story of what occurs in thousands of instances, in town and country, though often the colors are more blended and the contrasts not so harsh. Crescence loved Florian, and yet could not renounce the hope of a good establishment, such as she might expect to receive at the hands of the geometer: love drew her in one direction, interest in another. It would be strange if such discords did not lead to misery.
Florian remained in the village, and slaughtered first one heifer and then another. Though at first things looked prosperous, the run of good luck soon came to an end. The old butcher went around hawking out the meat which had not been sold at the shambles; but he generally spent not only the profit, but the cost besides. The competition of the Jewish butchers was not to be overcome even by Florian's superior skill; for the Jews can undersell Christians in the hindquarters of beef, because an opportune provision of the Bible forbids them to eat any thing but the fore-quarters. Moreover, it is almost impossible in a German village to support a household on mechanical labor alone, without some resort to agriculture. Florian had no opportunity, and still less inclination, to till the soil. He preferred to go into partnership with a Jewish butcher for a time; but this was also of short duration.
His next resource was to assist the Strasbourg butchers in purchasing oxen. This helped him to some good commissions, and enabled him to make his father the happiest of men. The old gentleman was restored to his favorite occupation of guessing at the weight of oxen. It quite made him young again. Florian was the leading young man in the village. Unfortunately, he made the squire his enemy. The latter, wishing to sell his oxen to some dealers passing through the village, invited Florian to come to his house. "They weigh fourteen hundred, and over," he asseverated. "What they weigh over eleven," said Florian, "I'll eat raw." This was foolish; for from that day the squire hated him cordially.
Florian cared but little for this, however: he played the fine gentleman every Sunday, played longest at ninepins, and was a fast man generally.
It is strange how soon the glory of the stranger in a village is consumed. The honor acquired merely by presenting an unusual appearance ceases the moment all eyes have become accustomed to it: the rainbow would be forgotten if it were always in the sky. Thus, Florian soon sunk into oblivion; and it required a special occurrence to attract attention to him again.
One evening he was standing, with his comrades, near the Eagle, while the squire sat on a bench before the house, talking to the geometer. Florian perceived that they were looking at him: he saw the squire pass his hand over his upper lip, while the geometer laughed immoderately and said something which sounded like "Samson." Florian did not understand what it all meant; but he was soon to have an explanation.
He received a summons next day to appear before the squire, who, as our renders may remember, had formerly been a non-commissioned officer. He now ordered Florian to "take the hair off his mouth," because he had never been a soldier, and none but soldiers were allowed to wear mustaches. Florian laughed at the squire, who took it in dudgeon; Florian answered his vituperations, and was marched off to prison.
It is a dangerous thing to arrest a man who is innocent of crime: it palls his feeling and his sense of moral responsibility for those occasions in which these qualities are particularly tried.
When Florian came out he was compelled to obey the cruel behest. With an indescribable mixture of wrath and humiliation he stood before the looking-glass, compressing his naked lips and gnashing his teeth. A dreadful vow was formed in his heart. Nothing was talked of in the village but the loss of Florian's mustache; and, now that it was gone, all united in singing its praises. Florian felt as if his skin had been peeled off. Of course, when he appeared in the street, every passer-by regaled him with an expression of condolence. But ambition had already perverted him to such an extent that he fairly enjoyed even this sort of notoriety. To be thought about was the first thing;whatpeople thought of him was only the second. He was never seen near the tailor's house in the daytime; and when he met Crescence in the evening, and she laughed at him, he swore to make the geometer pay him for every hair. She tried to pacify him; and he was silent.
Very soon after, the geometer, in returning home from Horb one evening, was waylaid by three men, who dragged him into the woods, and, with the cry of "Wale him! he's from Ulm!" beat him so unmercifully that he could scarcely walk home. One of them cried after him, as he went away, "This was out of kindness; but if you show your face in the village a week after this we'll try the other persuasion." The geometer thought he recognised Florian's voice. He tried to institute a prosecution; but the polities of the village were then in such a state of agitation that no business of public import was properly attended to.
The shaving of Florian was the last official act of the noncommissioned squire. The election came on, and Buchmaier received almost every vote. Under his administration people were free from paltry vexations, and Florian's mustache regained its pristine beauty.
In spite of the exertions of the Red Tailor and mine host of the Eagle, the geometer transferred his head-quarters to Muehl.
Meantime Florian also had met with reverses. He appeared to have quarrelled with the Strasbourgers, for he no longer acted as their agent. The old butcher also was generally at home: he had found a new source of revenue, which was very productive. On his travels as a drover he had made the acquaintance of some smuggler in Baden, which at that time had not acceded to the Zollverein. He sold coffee and sugar free of duty, and made money by the operation. The Red Tailor found his grocery-business ruined by the interference of the secret competitor; and yet the quarrel existing between the parents on account of their children made it necessary to keep up a continental system and rigid prohibitory tariff. The tailor's wife, however, hit upon a fortunate expedient: the house of Corpse Kitty became the neutral ground for negotiations. Corpse Kitty bought the imported goods for the account of the legitimate trade. Thus intrigues are at work between the great powers even when to the uninitiated they appear to be at open war.
Almost every Sunday Crescence was compelled, with cruel maltreatment, to go with her father and meet the geometer in Muehl or at the half-way house in Eglesthal. She was then gay and sprightly against her will; and, after she had carried on this hypocrisy long enough, the wine would come to her aid and really elevate her spirits,--so that the geometer always ended with thinking that she was still really fond of him.
But in the evening she always contrived to meet Florian; and, when she returned home, new maltreatment awaited her. Thus poor Crescence led a wretched life,--though, fortunately for her, she was so much inured to deceit and untruth that she was not aware of the full extent of its depravity.