"Remarkable! quite remarkable! It seems to me like the finger of God! The Herr Burgomeister can have no objection to that, Paris has nothing to do with the indiciums, this is a purely private affair. Karl," he said at last, standing before Habermann, and looking at him, as he had seen the burgomeister look at the weaver that morning, "Karl, tell me the real truth; does your young Herr von Rambow know,--your old pupil, I mean,--that I know, that you and the Frau Pastorin know, that something has happened between him and Louise, that nobody is to know?"
"Eh, Bräsig, I don't know----"
"Good, Karl, I see I have not expressed my meaning clearly enough, I mean, is he of the« opinion that you and the Frau Pastorin think that I think well of his love for Louise, and that you have told me? That is my opinion, and now tell me yours."
"Eh, Bräsig, he knows that you know about it, and he knows that you think well of it; but what of that?"
"Good, Karl; lose no words! But I must go now, I have invited David Berger and his trumpeters and the whole glee club to Grammelin's this evening, to a bowl of punch, and I must go and look after it. So, adieu, Karl!" and he went, but came back again: "Karl, tell the Frau Pastorin, I shall not be home to supper. If I should say anything to her about the punch, she would preach me a little sermon; and you, Karl, don't be alarmed if I come home late to-night. I have the key." But he came back once more to say: "Karl, what can be done, shall be done."
"I believe it," said Habermann, who thought he referred to the punch, "you will do your business thoroughly." Bräsig nodded, as if to say he might rely upon him with confidence, and went.
Habermann sat there, and read his letter a second time, and who would have thought that from this manuscript so many fair hopes would blossom? The warm friendship, which spoke in the letter, soothed him like the spring weather, and the trusting tone echoed sweetly in his ears, as the song of birds. Should his hopes be again deceived? Time would show!
Ah, time and hope! They stand over against each other, like the cuckoo and the seven stars; a man who, after long darkness, ventures to hope again, and sees the first faint gleams of happiness in the dark sky, must yet wait patiently the time when the sun stands full in the heavens.
The next morning, when Zachary Bräsig arose, he took hold of his head with both hands, saying:
"Karl, you may congratulate yourself that I haven't a worse headache than I really have: for who could play assessor to-day? If I had followed Grammelin's cursed punch receipt I should have a whole nest of sparrows in my head this morning. But I made it after my own fashion."
"Well, were you very jolly?" asked Habermann.
"Oh, yes! the younger part of the company were quite lively; as for me, I kept myself very quiet. I sat by the town-musician, David Berger, and, by the way, Karl! what an amount that fellow can stand! I thought to myself, that belongs to his business; but one glass after another, incessantly! and at last he became what they call sentimental, he embraced me, and, with tears in his eyes, told me how little he could earn in these political times, till Herr Süssmann, who is Kurz's shopman, and I really pitied him. And Herr Süssmann proposed to the company that we should get up a fraternity ball, for David Berger's benefit; that is, a political one, where all ranks, nobility, and ritter-proprietors, and pächters and burghers and their wives and children, should come together, and shake hands, and dance with, and, for aught I know, kiss each other. And this indicium was resolved upon, and it is to be a week from Sunday. And Herr Süssmann drew up a subscription paper, and I subscribed for you and me and the Frau Pastorin and Louise."
"Bräsig, I beg of you, what would the Frau Pastorin and Louise do at a ball, or I, either?"
"But you must, for it is a noble cause."
"And you couldn't go either, Zachary, for a week from Friday is Mining's wedding day, and the next Sunday the going to church, and what would my sister say if you were absent, and at your stupid Reform-ball?"
"That alters the matter, we must have it put off, and so adieu, Karl, I will go at once to Herr Süssmann, and see about it, and then I must go to the Rathhaus, you know, to sit for four groschen an hour."
He went directly to Kurz's shop, but Herr Süssmann was not there, Kurz himself was running about, opening the drawers and looking in, and then shutting them again.
"Good morning, Kurz, where is your young Herr?"
"I have no young Herr; I am Herr[12]myself."
"Kurz, take care of your words, we live in democratic times, since----"
"Ah, what? Here? Take care! I despise the whole democracy, when my shopman goes out drinking punch over night, and cannot get up in the morning; and old people should be ashamed----"
"Hold, Kurz, you are beginning again with your flatteries, like last Sunday, but I cannot allow it at present, on account of my situation at the court. And adieu, Kurz! But I am sorry for you, for you have caught the inflorentia, you should go to bed, there is something in your bones, and if you will feel under your gaiters, you will find you are beginning to get the rheumatism. But adieu, Kurz!"
He went off, but Kurz raved about his shop, and stormed at the whole world, until his wife, as soon as the shopman was out of bed, got him into bed, and put him under arrest for the time.
After this little interview, Bräsig went to the Rathhaus, and earned there without any further trouble, and in all quiet, five times four groschen, for the sitting lasted five hours. When he came home they had finished dinner, and as the table was spread again, expressly for him, the Frau Pastorin made some pointed remarks about irregularity in one's habits of life, and coming home at two o'clock in the morning, and sitting down to dinner at two o'clock in the afternoon; and Uncle Bräsig sat there, and grinned, looking very well contented with himself, as if he would say, "Ah, if you knew what hard work I have been doing, and in what place I went through with it, you would stroke me and pet me, you would kiss me, and do more than you have ever done for me;" and when he rose from the table, he said, solemnly, "Frau Pastorin, it will all come to light, as the Herr Burgomeister says," and he nodded to Habermann, "Bonus! as the Herr President Rein says," and going up to Louise, he put his arms round her and kissed her, and said, "Louise, get me the finest sheet of writing paper that you can find, for I want to pack up a little--well, I will say indicium,--so that it may not be injured, for it is to go a long way."
And as he went out with the sheet in his hand, he turned round again to remark:
"Karl, as I said before, what can be done shall be done."
And he came back once more to say: "Frau Pastorin, I shall come home to supper to-night."
He went to the post-office. The postmaster was at home, he was always at home; for a hundred and fifty thalers salary, he had imprisoned himself for life, not in a room, no, in a bird-cage, which he called his "comptoir," and when he had no postal business, he sat there and played the flute, and sung, like the finest canary-bird. He was engaged in this agreeable business, when Bräsig entered:
"Good-day, Herr Postmaster. You are a man of honor, therefore I wish to ask your assistance in a delicate matter. Of course, it isn't necessary for you to know the thing itself, that must remain a secret, and what I tell you must also remain a secret. I am going to write to Paris."
"To Paris? What the devil are you writing to Paris for?"
"To Paris," said Bräsig, drawing himself up.
"What in the world!" said the postmaster, "one of you inspectors gets a letter from Paris, and the other will send one. Well, we will see how much it costs." He turned his books over, and said at last, "I can't find it here, I will reckon it up; it cannot be done under sixteen groschen."
"No matter, I have earned twenty groschen this morning, at the court."
"Whom is the letter for?"
"The young Herr Franz von Rambow."
"Do you know his address, where he lives?"
"Why, in Paris."
"But Paris is a great city. You must know the street, and the number of the house."
"God bless me!" said Bräsig, "all that! I don't know it."
"Ask Habermann."
"That is just the thing, he mustn't know of it."
"Well, I know no other way, then, than for you to write your letter, and enclose it to the Mecklenburg ambassador, Dr. Urtlingen, he may be able to find him."
"He must," said Bräsig, "for the business is of great importance, and that is what he gets his salary for. But what I was going to say, will you allow me to write the letter here? Because it must be kept a secret from Habermann."
"Oh, yes," said the postmaster, "come right in here, before my wife sees you, for, though it is the regular room for passengers, my wife will allow no one under a count to go in there. And you must let yourself be locked in."
Bräsig had no objections to that, and so he sat there, from three o'clock in the afternoon, until it grew dark, and wrote his letter; the postmaster fluted and sung, in his bird-cage; he wrote; the Frau Postmaster came and rattled the door, she wanted to get into her sanctum, and scolded because the key was gone; the Herr Postmaster had it in his pocket, and fluted and sung; Bräsig wrote his letter. Finally he finished it; he read it over, and we can look over his shoulder. Here it is.
"Highly well-born young Herr von Rambow:
"A very remarkable thing has happened here, since Kurz the merchant had his manure carted on to baker Wredow's field, who is his rival in respect to the stadtbullen. Habermann found a piece of black waxed cloth there, with the Rambow coat of arms on it, which was a great relief to him, on account of the suspicion about the theft of the louis-d'ors, in the year '45, and the Herr Burgomeister also says that it is an indicium. The Herr Burgomeister has made me assessor at the court; there is a little something to be earned in that way, but it is very hard for me, being an old farmer, and accustomed to exercise, and also on account of the gout; it is not much trouble to be sure, but one gets sleepy in the long sittings. But the good of it is that I can know all about the business, which Habermann must know nothing about, because the Herr Burgomeister has forbidden it. Since you are in Paris, and not in Rahnstadt, I can talk with you freely, as a friend, about the business, and the business is this: the weaver, he lies, that he has no more intercourse with his wife, and the Herr Burgomeister says that is another indicium. We have a great many indiciums already. The principal business is still to come, however, namely, Kählertsch. Kählertsch is positively determined to marry the weaver, and is of the opinion that the weaver will not have her, because his divorced wife wants him to marry her again. This has caused bad feelings in Kählertsch,--what is called jealousy,--and she has come out with a lot of new indiciums, as the Herr Burgomeister says, very important and elevant, or, as I express myself in German, nearly connected with the matter. But the Herr Burgomeister says, one must be very careful, for the women-folks are spiteful when they are jealous, and tell lies sometimes. Meanwhile her lies have proved themselves, since she has come out with the whole truth, that the weaver was always getting Danish double louis-d'ors, as also the butcher Kränger testified, in two compertinent cases. And while the weaver was before the court, telling us new lies and new indiciums, they searched the weaver's house, with Hoppner at the head, and found nine Danish double louis-d'ors, in his cupboard, in a secret place. Which he tried to contend against, later, but did not succeed. She, the weaver's wife, who is the worst of the lot, was also caught, this morning, since they found, in searching her house, a snuff-box, which had belonged to the blessed Herr Pastor himself, and was kept by the Pastor's family like a relic, in a glass case, for which shameful deed she has been furnished with free lodgings. Kählertsch has also been taken up, since in her wickedness she has belied the court, the Herr Burgomeister, and myself, as assessor. They all lie, till they are black in the face, but what good does that do them? The Herr Burgomeister says he is morally persuaded that they have done it, and it must come out, and it will come out. What a triumph it will be for my Karl Habermann, when he stands in his old age, like an angel of innocence tried in the fire, and goes about among the people, with his white hair, in the white robes of innocence. They must be as ashamed as drowned poodles for all they have done to him, I mean--to speak with respect--Pomuchelskopp and the Pumpelhagener, who have fallen out with each other, because Zamwell has sued the other, of which I will say nothing more, since I told Pomuchelskopp my opinion of him at the Reformverein, and your Herr Cousin of Pumpelhagen has given me the cold shoulder. He is going on in a bad way, for he is dreadfully disturbed because Moses has given him notice for the money on St. John's day, and he has no money and no grain, and how can they live? He is an utterly incapable man. You must never, while I live, let Habermann know of this letter; because it is a secret between us. But I thought it would be interesting for you to know who the real rascals were, and that Karl Habermann,--thank God!--is not among them. He is very much cheered up by these occurrences, and strikes out with his heels, like a young colt, when the saddle is taken off. I think this is an encouraging sign for the future. As for news of your old acquaintances in the region, I can only tell you that, next week Friday, Mining and Rudolph expect to be united in marriage. Frau Nüssler, whom you will remember as a very beautiful young woman, is still--no need to say--very handsome, but has grown a little stouter; Jochen also is very well, and is training up, for his future establishment, a new crown prince. Your Herr Colleague, of old times, is now the Totum at Pumpelhagen; Habermann says he will yet do well; I say he is a greyhound, who goes among people with his fire-arms, on account of which he has put Frau Nüssler and me formally under the ban. We have a Reform at present in Rahnstadt; the young Pastor Gottlieb preached against it, but the young Frau Pastorin knows how to manage him. Rector Baldrian brought the tailoresses, and a certain Platow or Patow or some such person, into the Reform; but Kurz has been repeatedly turned out; his four horses have the inflorentia; it began with his old saddle-horse, and it will end with himself, for he has already got the rheumatism. The old Frau Pastorin Behrends is still our honored hostess, also with eating and drinking, for Habermann and I lodge and sleep, and take our daily meals with her; she, as well as Habermann, would send greetings to you, but they cannot, for they know nothing about it. But we often speak about you, since you are always like an ever-present picture before our eyes. I cannot think of more to tell at present,--but one thing occurs to me. Pomuchelskopp got himself voted into the Reformverein; the master carpenter Shultz is a brave man, he stood by me, at that time. Krischan Däsel has been sent away by your Herr Cousin, and there is no definite trace of Regel; but Louise Habermann is--thank God!--very well indeed.
"In the hope that my humble writing may not be disagreeable or inconvenient, I have the honor to subscribe myself, with the deepest reverence, and greeting you from the heart as an old friend,
"Your most obedient humble servant,
"Zachary Bräsig.
"Immeriter Inspector, and temporary Assessor.
"Rahnstadt, 13 May, 1848.
"Postscript.--Apropos! I write this letter in the Frau Postmaster's sanctum, since the Herr Postmaster has locked me in expressly for the purpose, and has sworn not to say a word. This is all because of the secrecy, for Habermann and the Frau Pastorin and Louise know nothing about it; Louise has given me this sheet of letter paper, it belonged to her, and I believe it will be a little gratification to you, for I remember my youthful days, when I had three sweethearts at once. She is devoted, in love and sadness, to her old father, and for others she is a precious pearl of the human race. If I receive an answer from you, that you have no objections, I will write again about the rascals they have caught. If you should be in our region again a week from Sunday, I invite you to our fraternity ball; the seamstresses and tailoresses are all to be invited.
"The Aforesaid."
When Bräsig had finished this difficult piece of work, he rapped and pounded on the door, and as the postmaster unlocked it and let him out, he stood there, with the sweat dripping from his face.
"Bless me!" said the postmaster, "how you look! It is true, isn't it? Unaccustomed labor is painful!"
With that, he took the letter from him, and put it in an envelope, and directed it to the Herr Ton Rambow, and then enclosed it in another envelope, to the address of the Mecklenburg ambassador in Paris. Bräsig paid his sixteen groschen, and the letter was now ready to start on its journey, for the postman, who should take it, that moment stopped at the door. And the postmaster sung, in his bower:
"Ein Leipziger Student hat jungst nach haus geschrieben,Frau Mutter, sagen Sie, darf denn kein Mädchen lieben?"
"Ein Leipziger Student hat jungst nach haus geschrieben,Frau Mutter, sagen Sie, darf denn kein Mädchen lieben?"
And as Bräsig went out of the door he sung:
"Custine schickt eine schnelle Post,Die nach Paris reiten muss:Die Sachsen and Preussen marschiren ins Feld,Um Mainz zu bombardiren,Und wenn ich keinen Succurs bekomm,Denn muss ich capituliren."
"Custine schickt eine schnelle Post,
Die nach Paris reiten muss:
Die Sachsen and Preussen marschiren ins Feld,Um Mainz zu bombardiren,Und wenn ich keinen Succurs bekomm,Denn muss ich capituliren."
"You may capituliren, as much as you please, for all me; only hold your tongue, as you have promised," said our old friend, and he went home, not only with the agreeable feeling that he had done a good action, but also with the equally agreeable feeling that he had accomplished a difficult task very skilfully, since he considered it pure finesse, as he said to himself, to have introduced Louise into the letter, so delicately, sopræter propterand socirca, that one must have keen scent, to suspect anything.
Well, when one indulges such a delightful consciousness of his good and skilful performances, and, so to say, warms himself at its blaze as at a cosy fire, on a winter's evening, it must be doubly vexatious to be driven out in the wind and rain, with all manner of scolding and reproaches; and this happened to Bräsig, when he entered the Frau Pastorin's room, where she was sitting with the little assessor; Louise was not there. Frau Pastorin was just trying to light a lamp, and the matches would not catch, firstly, because Kurz did not supply them with the best quality, and secondly, because Frau Pastorin--perhaps from economy--had the habit of putting the broken matches, and those that would not light, back into the box, so that such a match, in the course of its short life, had the satisfaction of being tried at least twenty times, which may have been very agreeable to the match, but was very provoking to other people.
"Well, there you are!" cried the Frau Pastorin angrily, trying a match. "There you are, at last,"--the second match. "You are running about the town all day,"--another match; "but you go with blind eyes,"--two matches at once,--"and with deaf ears!"--another match. "You always know everything,"--a match--"and when anything happens, then you know nothing,"--three matches together.
Bräsig went up to the Frau Pastorin very politely and pleasantly, and took the match-box from her hand, saying, "By your leave!"--a match--"what do you mean by that?"--the second match. "Have I done anything to harm you?"--the third match. "Kurz ought to be paid with his own wares!"--two matches, "His things that ought to catch don't catch, and what ought not to catch, catches,"--three matches. "The confounded things have got the inflorentia!" and with that he threw the whole box on the table, pulled his own match-safe out of his pocket, and struck a light.
"Bräsig," said the Frau Pastorin, putting all the tried matches carefully into the box, "I am very much vexed with you. I am not inquisitive, but, when anything happens that concerns Habermann and Louise, I am certainly the nearest, and ought to know it. Why must our little Anna first come out with what you ought to have told me long ago, for you knew it. I see it in your face, you knew it."
"How so?" asked Bräsig, and was going to pretend great ignorance; but the Frau Pastorin was too much provoked with him, for she thought he had treated her shamefully, and she said:
"You need not pretend; I know that you know everything, and you tell me nothing!" and now she began to tap the old man, and the little assessor also bored away at the Herr Assessor; finer and finer the two women drew their threads, and got everything out of Bräsig that he knew, for silence was by no means a special gift of his, and when he at last cried out in sheer despair: "So, now I know nothing more," then the little round Frau Pastorin placed herself before him, saying, "Bräsig, I know you, I see it in your face, you know something more. Out with it! What else do you know?"
"Frau Pastorin, it is a private affair."
"That is all the same; out with it!"
And Bräsig shoved about in his chair and looked right and left, but there was no help for it, he must surrender, and he said finally, "I have written about it to Herr Franz von Rambow, at Paris; but Karl Habermann must never know it."
"To Paris!" cried the Frau Pastorin, putting her hands on her sides, "to the young Herr von Rambow! What have you written to him? You have written something about Louise, I see it in your face! Yes, you have written something, and what I would hardly dream of, you have done!" She rang the bell violently: "Fika, run to the post-office, the Herr Postmaster shall give you back, immediately, the letter that Herr Bräsig has written to Paris."
Tereng-tereng-tereng-tentereng! blew the postillion, and the post with Bräsig's letter drove by, with flourish of trumpets, before the Frau Pastorin's nose, express for Paris, and the Frau Pastorin in, great vexation, sank back in her sofa-corner, sent Fika back to the kitchen, and--alas! that we should have to confess it--she was almost ready to murmur against providence, that, perhaps for the first time, the Rahnstadt post had started at the right moment, to take Bräsig's stupid letter to Paris.
Bräsig declared, most solemnly, that he had managed the business with the greatest delicacy, so that there was not the least indicium to be perceived.
"Did you send greeting from her?" asked the Frau Pastorin.
"No," said Bräsig, "I only said she was very well."
"Have you written nothing else about her?"
"I only wrote that the sheet of paper belonged to her, and that she was a precious pearl of the human race."
"So she is," interposed the Frau Pastorin.
"And then I closed in a very friendly way, by inviting the young Herr to our fraternity ball."
"That was foolish," cried the Frau Pastorin, "he will notice that, he will think you have the intention to bring him and Louise together again."
"Frau Pastorin," said Bräsig, placing himself before her, "with all respect for your words,isit foolish and wicked, if one has the intention of bringing two people together again, who have been separated by the wickedness and meanness of other people? I had this intention, and therefore I wrote that letter; Habermann could not have done it; for why? He is her father, and it would not have been fitting. You could not have done it; for why? Because they have called you already, here in Rahnstadt, all sorts of scandalous names. It is nothing to me, however, if people do call me an old go-between; I don't trouble myself about it; I will fetch and carry between here and Paris, and if I am only considered in Paris to be an honest man and a faithful friend to Karl Habermann and Louise, it is nothing to me if all Rahnstadt calls me an old matchmaker."
"Yes, Frau Pastorin, yes!" cried the little assessor, falling upon the Frau Pastorin's neck, "the Herr Inspector is right. Who cares for the gossips of Rahnstadt? What matters the stupid judgment of the world, if two people can be made happy? Franz must come, and Louise must be happy," and in her delight she ran up to Bräsig, and put her arms round his neck, and kissed him, right on his mouth. "You are a dear, old Uncle Bräsig!"
And Bräsig returned the kiss, and said, "Yes, you little clavier-mamsell, you dear little lark, you! You ought to try your happiness also, in such relations. But hold! We mustn't cackle too soon, the business is not settled yet, the rascals are not yet convicted, and, if I know Karl Habermann, he must be perfectly cleared in that affair, before he will consent to such an arrangement, and therefore I have said nothing about the matter, that he and Louise might not be disturbed. And it is a great blessing that Kurz has the inflorentia, for he could never have held his tongue so long otherwise."
"Bräsig," said the Frau Pastorin, "taking it all together, I believe you have done right."
"Haven't I, Frau Pastorin? And you were only vexed, because you didn't write first. But you shall have the honor of writing to the young Herr, when it is all settled."
Three days after this interview, Bräsig came home, and met the Frau Pastorin in the hall. Her right hand was in a bandage, for she had just sprained it, falling down the cellar-stairs.
"Frau Pastorin," said he, with great earnestness and expression, "I shall come down again immediately, and have something to tell you."
With that, he went up-stairs to Habermann. He said neither "Good day" nor anything else, as he entered the room, but, looking very solemn, went through into the bedroom. There he poured out a glass of water, and returned with it to Habermann.
"Here, Karl, drink!"
"What? Why should I drink?"
"Because it is good for you. What you will need afterward, will not hurt you before."
"Bräsig, what ails you?" cried Habermann, pushing away the water; but he noticed that something unusual was coming.
"Well, Karl, if you won't take it, you won't; but collect yourself, collect yourself quickly;" and he walked up and down, while Habermann followed him with his eyes, and turned pale, as he felt that this moment was to influence his destiny.
"Karl," said Bräsig, standing before him, "have you collected yourself?"
He had really done so; he stood up and exclaimed:
"Bräsig, say what you have to say! What I have borne so long, I can bear yet longer, if need be."
"That is not my meaning," said Bräsig. "It is all out, the rascals are convicted, and we have the money; not all, but some of it."
The old man had dreamed what it would be to be delivered from his troubles, for a ray of hope had gleamed upon his horizon; but when the sun was fairly risen upon this new day, and shone brightly in his face, his eyes were blinded by the sudden splendor, and a thousand suns floated around him.
"Bräsig! Bräsig! My honest name! My child's happiness!" and he sank back in his chair, and Bräsig held him the glass of water, and the old man drank, and recovered himself a little, and grasped Bräsig, who stood before him, about the knees: "Zachary, you have never in your life deceived me!"
"No, Karl, it is the pure truth, and it stands in the protocol, and the rascals will be sent to Dreiberg, the Herr Burgomeister says; but first to Bützow, to the criminal court."
"Bräsig," said Habermann, and he stood up, and went into his sleeping room, "leave me alone, and say nothing to Louise! Yes, tell her to come up."
"Yes, Karl," said Bräsig, walking to the window, and looking out, and wiping the tears from his eyes, and as he went through the door he saw his Karl, in the bedroom, upon his knees.
Louise went to her father, Bräsig told her nothing; but to the Frau Pastorin he was not so silent.
"Bless me," said the little Frau, "now Louise has gone away, and Habermann does not come, and you, Bräsig, don't come at the right time, the dinner will be cold, and we have such nice fish. What were you going to tell me, Bräsig?"
"Oh, nothing much," said Uncle Bräsig, looking as if the rascals had infected him with all sorts of roguery, and he must exercise it now upon the Frau Pastorin, because she had abused him so about the letter; "only that Habermann and Louise are not coming to dinner. But we two can begin."
"Eh, Bräsig, why are they not coming?"
"Well, because of the apron."
"The apron?"
"Yes, because it was wet."
"Whose apron was wet?"
"Why, Frau Kählert's. But we will eat our dinner, the fish will get cold."
"Not a morsel!" cried the Frau Pastorin, and put a couple of plates over the fish, and over those a napkin, and over that her plump hands, and looked so wildly at Bräsig with her round eyes, that he could no longer persist in hisrôle, but burst out: "It is all out, Frau Pastorin, and they are convicted, and we have most of the money again."
"And do you tell me that now, first?" cried the little Frau, and jumped up from the table, and was running up to Habermann. Bräsig would not allow that, and, by promising to tell her everything, brought her back to the sofa.
"Frau Pastorin," said he, "the chief thing that is, the principal indicium, came out through Kählertsch, that is to say, not properly, of her own accord, but through her wicked jealousy, which is a dreadfully powerful feeling in many women, and produces the most terrible consequences. I don't mean you, by that, I only mean Kählertsch. You see the woman had made up her mind to marry the weaver, and the weaver would'nt have her. Now, she is rightly of the opinion that the weaver's divorced wife wishes to marry him again, herself, and she lies in wait for them, and so it happened once that her apron--I mean Kählertsch's--was wet, and she was going to dry it on the garden fence. While she was there, half concealed behind the fence, she saw the weaver and his divorced wife, holding arendezvous,--well, you know what that is, Frau Pastorin----"
"Bräsig, I tell you----"
"Quiet, Frau Pastorin! and they were not sitting in a ditch, they were standing among the pole-beans, so that the woman must have got into the garden from over the fence, in the rear, since she had not gone through the house. Kählertsch in her wicked jealousy, called Frau Kräuger, the butcher's wife, to come and look also, and they two watched the other two, till they disappeared among the beans, and after a little the woman got over the fence, and the weaver busied himself in the garden, whereupon the two women quietly retired. So far we had got, and this was true, for the butcher's wife swore to it.
"Then the Herr Burgomeister says, if Kählertsch would only speak out, we might learn more. Then I say, 'Herr Burgomeister, woman's jealousy!' then he says, 'But how?' Then I say, 'Herr Burgomeister, I knew something about it, when I had three sweethearts at once,--jealousy is a terrible passion, and it knows neither mercy nor pity. Let me try her.' and when Kählertsch came again I said, in an off-hand way, 'Well, if the weaver had not married any body else, meantime, I suppose he could marry his divorced wife again.' And the Herr Burgomeister took my hint, and said yes, if he wanted to, the clerical consistory could give him a desperation. You see, that put the woman, herself into a desperation, and she burst out, if it was coming to that, she would tell something, the weaver had brought money with him out of the garden, for before that he had had no money in his cupboard, but afterwards she had looked, and had found money there, several double louis-d'ors. You see, she had trapped herself, showing that she had been, with a night-key, into other people's cupboards. The Herr Burgomeister had her arrested and put in prison, so we now had the three rogues fast.
"When the weaver came in again, and lied again, as to how he had come by the money, and lied to the very face of the butcher's wife, that he had not been with his wife in the garden, you see, the butcher's wife got angry too, and said she had seen the calves of her legs, as she was climbing over the fence,--don't take it amiss, Frau Pastorin,--but she said so. And then the weaver was sentenced to have ten on his jacket, for our laws,--thank God!--still have penalties for infamous lying, and the Herr Burgomeister talked to him very solemnly, and told him he was a master weaver, and he should be degraded from his trade; but would he confess? not a bit of it. But so soon as he had had his first three on the jacket, he fell on his knees,--which was a dreadful sight to me, so that I turned away,--and said he would confess everything, and he did so, since he had not stolen it himself, but his wife. The woman had stolen the money from the day-laborer, Regel, taking the black packet from his waistcoat pocket, when he was intoxicated, and hid it in the woods, under the moss and bushes, and there it had lain for two years, and whenever she went to get wood, she would take out a couple of pieces, which she would get changed by the help of some of the old Jew women,--she has been to Kurz, also. And then, perhaps a year and a half ago, she met the weaver, and asked him if he would not marry her again, for she was no longer poor, she had something now, and she gave him a double louis-d'or; he would'nt listen to her then, however, because at that time he was in love with Kählertsch,--I beg you, Frau Pastorin, with Kählertsch! They might offer me Kählertsch on a silver salver, I should never fall in love with her. But he took the louis-d'or, and she teased him again, and made him other presents, till at last his inclination began to return to her, and he wanted nothing more to do with Kählertsch. And she showed him all her treasure, and they changed it about, now here and now there, to keep it concealed, and finally, this spring, they locked it up in a box, and he threw the black cloth into the butcher's compost heap, and they buried the treasure in the garden. And we went there with the weaver, and found fourteen hundred thalers, among the potatoes. Just think of it--fourteen hundred thalers among the potatoes! They had spent the rest of it."
"Good heavens!" cried the Frau Pastorin, "how clever you and the Herr Burgomeister must have been, to get so much out of them."
"So we are, Frau Pastorin," said Uncle Bräsig, quietly.
"But the woman?" cried the little Frau. "She was the nearest to it."
"Yes, Frau Pastorin, that was an exciting moment, for the Herr Burgomeister had concealed the indicium of the box and the gold, under his every-day hat, and when the weaver's wife was confronted with her husband, and once more admonished to tell the truth, and persisted in lying, then the Herr Burgomeister lifted his hat, and said, 'It is no matter. We have the money already.' You see, when she saw the box, she flew at the weaver, like a fury, and in a moment she had torn his whole face, just with her nails, and screamed, 'Cursed wretch! I would have made him happy, and he has made me unhappy!' Frau Pastorin, love is madder than jealousy. Kählertsch never would have done that! But, Frau Pastorin, our fish must be quite cold."
"Ah, Bräsig, how can you think of anything like that. But I must go to Habermann, I must tell him--"
"That you are very glad he is so triumphantly cleared." said Bräsig, drawing her down on the sofa again; "so you shall, but not yet. For, you see, I believe Habermann has something to tell the Lord, and Louise will help him, and that is right too, but she is enough; for, Frau Pastorin,--as Pastorin you should know,--our Lord is a jealous God, and when He communes with a thankful soul he does not suffer that others should approach, but draws back, and, where the presence of God has shone, human sympathy must wait till afterwards."
The little Frau Pastorin looked at him in astonishment, and finally broke out:
"God bless you, Bräsig! I always called you an old heathen; but you are a Christian, after all!"
"I don't know, Frau Pastorin, I don't know what I am. But I know that the little I have done, in this matter, I have not accomplished as a Christian, but as assessor at the criminal court. But Frau Pastorin, our fish is spoiled by this time, and I don't feel at all hungry. The house seems too narrow for me,--adieu, Frau Pastorin, I must go out in the fresh air a little while."
The Friday, on which Rudolph and Mining were to be married, had come, and the loveliest Whitsuntide weather shone upon Rexow, and on the singular edifice which Jochen, with the aid of Schultz the carpenter, had constructed near his modest farm-house. From the outside, the affair was not very distinguished looking, it was only of boards and laths hammered together, and looked uncommonly like a building in which wild beasts are exhibited, at the Leipsic fair. Inside, the work of art presented a more stately appearance, for the boards were covered with blue and yellow cloth, half of one color, and half of the other, since there was not enough of one kind, in Rahnstadt, to cover so large a hall; and secondly, it was adorned with six notched beams, for on no other condition would carpenter Schultz undertake the job. There ought, properly, he said, to be nine, in such a building as a wedding-hall, but the expense would be too great, and since Jochen did not understand much about architecture, and Frau Nüssler had enough to do with the eating and drinking for the wedding, and Bräsig was his friend, and would not oppose him, because he had helped him at the Reformverein, carpenter Schultz had his own way, like a moth in a rug, and built in the notched beams to his heart's content; and upon each of them Bräsig hung a sort of contrivance, intended to represent a chandelier, and Krischan the coachman climbed about on them for a week, in his buckskin breeches, adorning them with oak-leaves; which he did very finely, but to the detriment of his apparel, since the beams, with their splinters, little by little devoured his buckskin breeches.
Jochen put his hand in his purse, and paid the money for the new house, for he wanted everything done, for his Mining, in the finest manner, and he got Krischan a new pair of breeches.
"Mother," he cried to his wife, "come! look! What shall we do about it?"
"Yes, Jochen, it is all very well. But there ought to be lights in the chandeliers!"
She was going out, when a voice spoke to her from the clouds, that is, the oak-leaf-clouds, and a face full of light, candlelight, bent down to her and said solemnly, "It shall all be attended to, Frau Nüssler," and as she looked nearer into the clouds, she saw the honest, red face of her old angel, Bräsig, looking out from the oak-leaves and tallow-candles, which he had strung around his neck, like a clergyman's bands, that he might have his hands free to fasten them in their places.
When this was done, the three stood together, and contemplated the effect, and Bräsig said, "Truly, Jochen! 'Tis like a fairy palace, out of the 'Arabian Nights,' which I read last winter from the circulating library!"
And Jochen said, "Yes, Bräsig; it is all as true as leather; but it is only for one night; for, day after to-morrow, we must tear it down."
"That would be barbarous!" said the carpenter, "the six notched beams would last ages, and the fairies might walk in as if they were born and bred there."
And the next day came the fairies, not, indeed, exactly as Herr Schultz had represented, no, they came, at that time, all in crinoline, that is to say, the half-grown, horse-hair variety, not with bells and springs and bee-hives, and steel bird-cages, as at present; but they were beginning, even then, and Auntie Klein, from Rostock, had put a regular barrel-hoop of tough oaken wood, into her petticoat, which grazed her sister's shins so unmercifully on the way, that the poor woman had to stand on one foot through the whole wedding. But the fairies came, and they had wreaths in their hair, of natural flowers, and not artificial, which was a pity, for towards the close of the wedding, when the feet were weary, and the lovely eyes drooped, and the bright clouds of hair were tumbled about as if a storm-wind had blown through them, then the weary flowers drooped their heads and whispered to each other, "I wish it were over; nothing gives one such a longing for the quiet night, as all this gaiety." How much better we do things at present! The artificial flowers stand up brisk and lively, and say, "Always ready! Our stems and strings hold out, and when this is over, they will lay us away in a box; and we shall get rested, and when another time comes we are always ready!" Ah, how the world has improved! If they could only keep fresh and bright the youthful limbs and the fresh lungs and the innocent hearts,--well, for all me, the whole pretty fairies themselves,--with their wires and threads and steel springs!
Bräsig distributed invitations for Frau Nüssler and Jochen with a free hand, and had selected from Rahnstadt and the vicinity a fine company of neat, willing and active dancers, and although there was now and then a crooked stick among the men, it was no matter, said Uncle Bräsig, for you could see a man's legs distinctly enough, and could beware of them. Besides the Rahnstadters and a few others in the region, Jochen Nüssler had, through Rudolph, invited all his relations, a very wide-spreading race. Not that they themselves were so wide-spreading, I only mean the relationship, and they were scattered widely over all Mecklenburg and Pommerania.
There sat uncle Luting, there Uncle Krischaning, there Uncle Hanning, and there Cousin Wilhelming,--"who is my own second cousin, and a very witty fellow, when it comes to eating and drinking," said Jochen,--and there sat Aunt Dining, and Aunt Stining, and Aunt Mining, and Aunt Lining, and Aunt Rining,--"and Aunt Zaphie is coming too," said Jochen, "who was an extremely fine woman in her day." "She has been here this great while," said Bräsig. And as one stately equipage after another drove up to the Rexow court, and the whole Nüssler family in a company stood around Jochen, welcoming each other, and inquiring how things had gone for the last sixteen or twenty years,--for it was as long as that since they had seen each other, and those who knew how to write never did,--Bräsig said to Frau Nüssler:
"A very constant race, these Nüsslers! Regular thorough-bred Nüsslers! Only Jochen is a little different from the rest, since he has grown so thin, and so talkative." And going into the "temple of art," as carpenter Schultz called his edifice, and finding the architect sitting there, absorbed in admiration of his work and a bottle of Bavarian beer, he said, "Schultz, you have done your part, and I have done mine; but, you shall see, Jochen will spoil the whole performance, with his stupid relations, so that it will turn out like a mess of sour porridge."
"I have nothing to say about it, being only a guest here," said Herr Schultz, "but if they are what you say, then, out with them!"
And Bräsig walked up and down the garden, like a tree-frog, not that he had on a green coat, for he wore his nice brown one, with the yellow vest, no, he was like a tree-frog only because he prophesied foul weather before night. All at once, he looked over the garden fence, and saw Jochen's own "phantom" approaching, not driven by Krischan, but by a day-laborer, and looking nearer he saw two women sitting in it, and when he looked nearer still, there sat his own sister the widow of the dairy-farmer Korthals, with her only daughter, who lived far away, in straitened circumstances, in a village in Pomerania.
"God preserve us!" he cried, "my own sister! And her little Lotting, too! This isherdoing!" and running through the kitchen to the hall, he met Frau Nüssler, and cried, "You have done this for me! Oh, you are----"
Just then two ladies entered the hall, very simply dressed, but both of them lovely as pictures; the older, with tears of emotion and gratitude running down her friendly, true-hearted face, the younger, with her fresh, innocent soul shining out of great blue eyes, under a cloud of golden hair, and asking, "Where is my dear, good Uncle Zachary?" for it was long years since she had seen him.
"Here! here!" he cried, and pulled and pushed his dear relations through the hall, till he got them up to Frau Nüssler, and said, "There she is; now thank her!" And when the two had expressed their gratitude, and turned round again to look for him, he was gone. Like a miller, who has started his mill, and poured the corn into the hopper, he had crowded his way through the stout meal-bags of the Nüssler family, and now sat in the arbor, in the garden, blowing and trumpeting at his nose, until Schultz the carpenter decamped with his beer-bottle from the temple of art, believing that the musicians had arrived.
But they did not come yet; first came Kurz and the rector, each with his good old advocate at his side, and when they had been presented, and had crowded about, for a while, in the room with the Nüssler family, old Uncle Luting Nüssler came up to Kurz, in a pompous, overbearing way, and said, in a deep voice, "You can congratulate yourself upon being connected afresh with such a rich and noble relationship. Do you see," and he pointed to Uncle Krischan, who had just thrown himself upon the sofa, "there tumbles a hundred thousand thalers."
"I don't do it for that," said Uncle Krischan.
Well, that made Kurz angry, but he restrained himself; but when Uncle Luting went on to ask, "Have you ever in your life seen so many rich people together in one company?" then Kurz's wrath broke out, and he replied, "No! nor ever in my life so many blockheads!"
He turned away, and his wife, who had heard it, followed him and said, "Kurz, I beg you, for God's sake, don't begin again with your democracy! It would be much better for you to go to bed at once."
He would not do that, but he was placed under the ban, for the whole evening, by all the Nüssler family.
And Pastor Gottlieb came with Lining, and they were treated with great respect by their elders, because they were to perform the marriage ceremony. Don't misunderstand me! Not that Lining herself was to marry them, not at all! but, for once in her life, she had interfered in Gottlieb's professional affairs, and had altered his marriage ceremony a little, so that Gottlieb said it was not like a Christian minister's speech, it was more like a family speech; but she remained firm in her position that as Mining's twin she ought to know what would go most to her heart, and Gottlieb had to yield to her.
And now came Habermann, with the Frau Pastorin and Louise and the little assessor, driving up in a glass coach, for the Frau Pastorin had said, "So, and in no other way!" She had once been compelled to decline a wedding invitation from Frau Nüssler, in her great sorrow, and now she would make up for it in her great pleasure at this second wedding, and then she pressed the hands of Habermann and Louise and the little assessor, saying, "Isn't it so? We are all happy to-day." So they came to Rexow, and when they arrived Habermann saw Bräsig's sister, whom he had known years ago, and it was not long before they sat together, talking of old times, and every other word was "Zachary," and Louise and the little assessor had Lotting between them, and every other word was "Uncle Bräsig."
Then came a great harvest wagon, with flowers and wreaths, Krischan the coachman driving the four horses, in the saddle, in his new yellow buckskins, his whip ornamented with red and blue ribbons, and he himself with a wreath of roses around his hat, which looked uncommonly as if the old hat were celebrating its fiftieth golden wedding, upon this occasion, and on the front seat, sat David Berger, the town-musician, playing on his clarionet: