Moses had become a very old man, but his health was still quite good, only that he was rather lame, and sleep would not come at his call; so he used to sit up late into the night, in his arm-chair, with a cushion under his head, hours after his Blümchen was asleep, and think over his old business affairs; with new ones he would have nothing to do. David lay on the sofa, and talked, or slept, as he felt inclined; but I must do David the justice to say he was not an exception to the general rule of his fellow-believers, he took good care of his old father, and this Jewish fashion is one which many Christians would do well to follow.
This evening they were chatting together.
"David," said the old man, "what did I tell you? You should not entangle yourself with Pomuffelskopp."
"Well? If I have entangled myself, I am well paid for it."
"You have strewed dust on your head, you have eaten filth."
"Are louis-d'ors filth?"
"Pomuffelskopp's are."
"Father, if you were willing, we could do a great business; Pomuffelskopp is going to sell Gurlitz."
"Why?"
"Well, he wants to sell."
"I will tell you, David, because he isn't sure of his day-laborers, that they won't set fire to his barns, or knock him on the head. I will tell you further: I shall not do the business, nor will you; but your friend the notary will do it, he is too shrewd for you, and you are too young."
"Father, I----"
"Hush, David! I will tell you something more; you want to be rich, rich all at once. See, there is a pitcher with a narrow neck, half full of louis-d'ors, you reach in, take up a handful, and cannot get it out, you reach in and take one, and get it out easily, and so on, again and again, till you have them all."
"Have I taken too large a handful?"
"Hush, David, I have not done yet. You see two people, one throws a louis-d'or into clean water, and the other throws a handful into the gutter; you go into the cold water and get the louis-d'or, and it is bright and clean; you go into the gutter and get out the whole handful, and people turn away from you, for you are a stench in their nostrils. Pomuffelskopp has thrown his louis-d'ors into the gutter."
"Well, they don't smell of it."
"If men do not smell them, they smell to heaven; but men do, that is to say, honest men; but they are not offensive to Pomuffelskopp and the notary, their odor is like myrrh and frankincense."
David was going to say something, when there was a rap at the house-door. "What is that?" asked David.
The old man was silent; then there came a louder rap.
"David, go and open the door!"
"What? at this time of night?"
"David, open it! When I was young, and went about with my pack, I often knocked at the door, and the door was opened to me, and now I am old, and shall soon stand before a door and knock, and the God of Abraham will say, 'Let him in, it is a man!' This is a man, also. Open the door, David!"
David obeyed, and Habermann entered.
"Wonder of wonders!" cried the old man, "the inspector!"
"Yes, Moses, you must not take it ill. I could not help it, I must speak with you confidentially about a matter of business."
"Go out, David!"
David made a sour face, but went.
"It isn't of much use," said Moses, "he will stand at the door, and listen."
"Never mind, Moses, I cannot say to you what I would here. Can you not come with me to my house?"
"Habermann, I am an old man."
"Yes, indeed, I know it; but the air is mild, the moon is risen; I will take you by the arm; yes, Moses, I will carry you, if you say so."
"Well, what is it, then?"
"Moses, I cannot tell you here; you must hear with your own ears, and see with your own eyes. You can do a good work."
"Habermann, you are an honest man, you have always been a friend to me, you will do what is right. Call David."
Habermann opened the door; to be sure, there he stood:
"Herr Inspector, you must not take my father out tonight, he is an old man."
"David!" cried the old man, "bring me my fur boots!"
"Father! you mustn't go! I will call mother."
"Call mother, if you want to, I shall go."
"What are you going to do?"
"Transact important business."
"Then I will go too."
"David, you are too young; bring me the boots."
There was no help for it, David must bring them and put them on; Habermann took the old man firmly by the arm, Moses took his usual grip in his left coat-pocket, on account of the lacking suspender, and, leaning on Habermann's arm, hobbled slowly over to the Frau Pastorin's house.
As Habermann and old Moses crossed the Frau Pastorin's threshold, they made something of a noise, for Moses stumbled at the door, and came near falling. Frau Pastorin, of course, heard the commotion, as did the whole company with her; "Ah, there comes Habermann with poor Mining," said she, and running to the door put out her head; but when she expected to see Mining, though perhaps with a swelled cheek, there stood old Moses in his dressing-gown, and fur boots, with his old face full of wrinkles, and looking at her with his great black eyes:
"Good evening, Frau Pastorin!"
The little Frau Pastorin started back, almost to the middle of the room; "Preserve us!" cried she, "Habermann is carrying on all sorts of magic and unchristian preformances; now he is bringing his old Jew into the house, at midnight; is this on account of Mining's toothache?"
Frau Nüsssler felt as if she were standing in her kitchen, dressing fish, and had just taken hold of a great pike, and the creature had snapped at her thumb, and was pressing his teeth deeper and deeper into her flesh, and she must keep still, else he would tear open her whole thumb. What had possessed Frau Nüssler to tell a story, and such a story, which might come out any moment!
"Frau Pastorin," said Bräsig, "as for Moses, that was only an appearance; it could not have been himself, for I was there yesterday, and he told, me expressly, he was not able to go out any longer."
"Ah!" interposed Louise, "father has certainly some important business with the old man, and aunt knows about it, and so she has told us that story about Mining. What, should father be doing with such nonsense?"
The pike pressed his teeth deeper into Frau Nüssler's flesh; but she set her own teeth together, and held out.
"Eh, see!" cried she, "Louise, you are dreadfully clever! Clever children are a blessing for their parents, but"--here she suddenly pulled her thumb from the pike's teeth;--"I wish you had been a good deal more stupid. I will tell you; Mining isn't there, it is the gracious Frau from Pumpelhagen, who has some business to attend to with Karl and Moses."
The little Frau Pastorin was quite vexed, partly because she was not sooner informed, for, in her own house, she was surely the nearest, partly because, after long years, she had, for the first time, discovered that her good neighbour Frau Nüssler was capable of the most horrible, unchristian lying.
"And that story was all a lie then?" she inquired.
"Yes, Frau Pastorin," said Frau Nüssler, looking like one of the condemned.
"Frau Nüssler," said the Frau Pastorin, and it seemed as if an invisible hand had dropped upon her shoulders the little black mantle of her sainted pastor, "lying is a horrible, unchristian vice."
"I know it, Frau Pastorin; I never lied for myself, in my life. When I tell lies, it is only for the benefit of other people. I thought it would be too bad for the poor Frau, who is in such trouble, to be plagued with questions, and since you all took her for Mining I merely said yes, and made up a little story."
It seemed now as if the invisible hand had endowed the Frau Pastorin with her blessed Pastor's bands also, and she began:
"Dear, you are in a dreadful state, you are lying at this very moment, you think that is right which is wrong, you lie----"
"With your gracious permission, Frau Pastorin," interrupted Zachary Bräsig, taking the side of his old treasure, "I must interrupt your discourse; I am quite of Frau Nüssler's opinion. Do you see, last week the Frau Syndic called to me, and asked me, very kindly, 'Herr Inspector, is it true that the Frau Pastorin once held a rendezvous in a ditch----'"
"Bräsig!" screamed the little Frau Pastorin, and mantle and bands were gone directly.
"Don't be troubled!" said Uncle Bräsig, throwing a glance at Louise, "I can be discreet, upon occasion. 'No,' I said to the Frau Syndic, 'it is an abominable lie.' And so I told a lie for you, Frau Pastorin, and, if I must be roasted in hell for it, I beg that you will look down from heaven sometimes and afford me a little relief."
The Frau Pastorin had something to say, but Habermann looked in at the door: "Oh, Bräsig, come here a moment!"
"Habermann----" began the little Frau.
"Frau Pastorin, I shall come back directly."
Bräsig went.
On the other side of the hall they were as much excited, but in a different way. When Habermann entered the room with Moses, the young Frau rose from the sofa, with a pang in her heart, and Moses stood astonished.
"The gracious Frau von Rambow," said Habermann, and, turning to the lady, "This is my old friend Moses; but he is much fatigued from the walk. You will excuse me, gracious Frau;" and he brought him to the sofa, and laid him down, and took cushions and pillows and put them under his head.
When the old man had recovered a little, Habermann asked, "Moses, do you know the gracious Frau?"
"I have seen her riding past my house, I have also seen her walking near Pumpelhagen; I greeted her, and she kindly returned the old Jew's greeting."
"Moses, do you know that the Herr von Rambow is deeply in debt?"
"I know it."
"You have sued him."
"I know it."
"Moses, you must withdraw your suit; your money is safely invested."
"What do you call safe? I spoke to you about it last spring. In such times as these property is not safe, a man is safer; but Herr von Rambow is not a man whom I can trust, he is a bad manager, he is a fool about horses, he is a----"
"Hold! Remember his wife is here."
"Well, I remember."
Frida was suffering tortures. They were silent for awhile; then Habermann began again:
"If there was a prospect that the estate could be rented----"
"Who would rent in such times?" said Moses.
"Or the Herr von Rambow would agree to engage a regular inspector, and leave the management to him----"
"Habermann," interrupted Moses, "you are an old man, and you are a shrewd man. You know the world, and you know the Herr von Rambow; did you ever know a Herr who said, 'I will be master no longer, I will let another be master?'"
Habermann was rather taken aback by this question, he looked inquiringly at the young Frau, and Frida dropped her eyes, and said:
"I am afraid Herr Moses is right; my husband does not understand it."
Moses looked at her approvingly, and muttered to himself, "She is a clever woman, she is an honest woman."
Habermann was perplexed; he sat in deep thought, and finally said:
"Well, Moses, if the Frau von Rambow, or I, or circumstances, should influence the young Herr to consent to this plan, and if, for the security of the creditors, he should give a promise to resign the management, and engage a competent inspector, would you withdraw your suit?"
"I would withdraw it for a year; well, say two years."
"Well, then you will leave your money in the estate; but there are other debts which must be paid; there are Pomuchelskopp's eight thousand thalers."
"I know it," said Moses to himself.
"Then there the debts owing to tradesmen and mechanics, which have not been paid for a year; and the people's wages must be paid and repairs attended to; it will take about six thousand thalers."
"I know it," said Moses.
"Then there is a note for thirteen thousand thalers, in Schwerin, which must be paid immediately."
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Moses, "I did not know a word of it."
"Yes, and then," continued Habermann, without noticing this remark, "we must have two or three thousand thalers over, to carry on the estate properly."
"Let me go! It is a bad business, a very bad business!" cried Moses, making a motion as if he would rise from the sofa.
"Hold on, Moses! I have not done yet."
"Let me go! Let me go! I am an old man, I cannot involve myself in such a business," and with that he rose to his feet, and made preparations to go.
"Hear me first, Moses! I do not ask you to lend the money,--it would be about thirty-one thousand thalers,--there are other people, safe people, who will lend it; you shall merely advance it until St. John's day."
"God of Abraham! Advance in these times, in fourteen days,thirty-one thousand thalers! And that for fools who involve themselves in a business like that!"
"Well, Moses, just listen to me. Write down the names and the amounts as I mention them. You know the Frau Pastorin? Write down the Frau Pastorin for five thousand thalers."
"Well, I know her, she is a good woman, she helps the poor; but why should I write?"
"Come, just write."
Moses took a pencil out of his pocket, moistened the point, and wrote:
"Well, there it is; five thousand thalers."
"You know Bräsig, too?"
"Why shouldn't I know Bräsig? Who does not know Bräsig? He is a good man, an entertaining man; always visited me when I was sick, tried to make a democrat of me, wanted me to make speeches in the Reformverein, but he is a good man."
"Put him down for six thousand thalers. You know my brother-in-law Nüssler?"
"I have always bought his wool. He is a quiet man, and a good man, smokes tobacco; but he isn't the man of the house, his wife is."
"Well, then put my sister down for thirteen thousand thalers."
"No, I'll not do it. She is a woman, she is a very cautious woman; bargained with me for two groschen more the stone."
"Write it! My sister will tell you, herself, this very night. So! and now write, for me, seven thousand thalers, and there are the thirty-one thousand."
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Moses, "he will give his hard-earned money, that he has laid up for his old age, and for his only child! And for whom? For a young man who has tried to shoot him, who has defamed his honest name, who has treated him like a dog!"
"That doesn't concern you, Moses, that is my affair. I----"
The young Frau had been sitting in torment, repressing the bitterest feelings in her soul; but she could bear it no longer, she started up, and running to Habermann laid her hands on his shoulders, crying, "No, no! that must not be! Neither these good people, nor you, shall be involved in our misfortunes. If we are to blame, we must suffer for it. I will bear--oh, and Axel would much rather bear misfortune and disgrace! but--but"--she broke out involuntarily--"the poor sisters!"
Habermann took hold of her gently, and replaced her in her chair, whispering, "Control yourself! You have trusted the business in my hands; I will bring it to a happy issue."
A flood of tears burst from Frida's eyes.
"Good heavens!" said Moses to himself, laying his pencil back in his pocketbook, "Now she is going to be magnanimous, too. Do you call this business? This is no business. And yet it is all honest! It makes the old man cry, too," and he wiped the tears from his eyes, with the skirt of his dressing-gown. "Well, we will see what the Jew can do."
Habermann had gone out and called Bräsig, and told him, hastily, in the hall, what was in the wind, and now he came in with him.
Bräsig came in with rather a distracted expression on his face, at which Habermann was secretly annoyed; he looked half as if he had something to sell at the fair, and half as if he were going to make a Christmas gift. He marched up to Moses, with his head in the air: "Moses, what Habermann has put down for me, I will subscribe to, Zachary Bräsig; it is all the same to me, cash or bonds, but not before St. Anthony's."
"Good," said Moses. "You are a safe man, Herr Inspector, I will advance it."
Bräsig went up to the gracious Frau, who had rested her arm on the table and covered her eyes with her hand, as if the light hurt them, made a deep bow, and inquired after her health, and when she had answered quietly, he asked, "And how is the young Herr von Rambow?"
Frida shrank together, and Habermann, who had intended to call in the others, one by one, saw that a diversion must be made, or Bräsig, in all innocence, would distress the young Frau with his questions and remarks.
"Zachary," said he, "do me the favor to bring in the Frau Pastorin and my sister; Louise may come, too."
"Very well, Karl," and presently he returned with the women.
Frau Pastorin went up directly to the young Frau, and pressed her to her heart, and could not restrain herself from weeping bitterly. Louise stood by, with the deepest, though silent, compassion in her heart.
"God of Abraham!" exclaimed Moses, "what a night is this! They want to transact a business, and they cry over each other, and press each other's hands, and hang about each other's necks, and are magnanimous and affectionate, and keep an old man, like me, sitting up till morning. Mamselle Habermann," he added aloud, "when you are done with your tender feelings, perhaps you can get me a drop of wine; I am an old man."
Louise ran and brought a bottle of wine and a glass, and Bräsig said, "Bring me a glass, too, Louise!" and had possibly the intention of having a little frolic with Moses, for he sat down by him, and began to touch glasses: "To your good health, Moses!"
But it wasn't successful, Moses did not seem disposed to respond, and Habermann brought up his sister; Moses moistened his pencil, and wrote. After Frau Nüssler came the Frau Pastorin; Moses wrote again, and before the young Frau, who sat in the corner with Louise, knew what was going on, it was all settled; and Moses stood up, saying:
"Shall I tell you some news? I will tell you: the thirty-one thousand thalers are secured, and the people are all good; but it is no business, your magnanimity has run away with you. Well, what will you have? I am a Jew, it has run away with me too; I will advance the money. But I am an old man, I am a cautious man. If the Herr von Rambow will not employ an Inspector, and do as he ought, the business is worthless, and I will have nothing to do with it. When they lay me in the church-yard, under the fir-trees, where I have built an enclosure, then people would say, 'Well, he built that enclosure for himself; what is an enclosure of oaken-wood? Shortly before his death he got honest people into trouble, only that he might make a speculation.' There is Frau Nüssler, there is Frau Pastorin, there is Herr Habermann, and there is also Herr Bräsig. I have been a man of business, from my youth, first with my pack, and then with my produce and wool, and finally with my money, and as a man of business I will die; but a cautious one. Come, Habermann, take hold of me, and help me home again! Good-night, Frau Nüssler, my regards to Herr Jochen, he must come and see me. Good-night, Herr Inspector Bräsig, you must come and see me too; but don't talk about the Reform any more, I am an old man. Good-night, Mamselle Habermann, when you pass my house again, greet me as kindly as you did last time. Good-night, Frau Pastorin, when you go to bed, you can say I have had honest people in my house, tonight, the old Jew, also, is an honest man." Then he went up to Frida:
"Good-night, gracious Frau, you have wept to-night, because you are not used to it; but never fear, it will all come right; you have a new friend, it is the old Jew; but the old Jew has shed tears over you, and he will not forget it; he does not weep often now."
He turned away, and, saying "Good-night!" once more, without looking round, went out with Habermann, Louise lighting them to the door. All was silent in the room; each was busy with his own thoughts. The first to recollect herself was Frau Nüssler; she called Krischan, who was asleep in the hall, and made him bring around the carriage. Krischan obeyed with unusual celerity, for, when Habermann returned from convoying Moses home, the young Frau and his sister were already in the carriage, and he had barely time to say a few friendly, hopeful words to the young Frau, when Frau Nüssler said, "Good-night, Karl! She must go back to her child. Krischan, to Pumpelhagen!" and they drove off.
Habermann was still standing in the street, looking after the carriage, and was just turning to go into the house, when, another carriage came slowly up the street, with a pair of gray horses shining before it, in the moonlight. The old man stepped back, and stood in the doorway, his daughter had left a candle for him, in the hall, and he stood there like a gigantic shadow against the light. He waited to see who was driving, so late or so early, through the silent streets; the carriage came nearer, it stopped before the house.
"Take the reins!" cried a voice which seemed strangely familiar to him, and a man on the front seat threw back the reins to the coachman, and jumped down.
"Habermann! Habermann! Don't you know me?"
"Franz! Herr von Rambow!"
"What is going on here, that you are up so late? No misfortune?"
"No,--thank God!--no! I will tell you directly."
The young man threw his arms about the old man, and pressed him to his heart, and kissed him, again and again, and it was no misfortune, it was the purest happiness, and yet one might have supposed it was misfortune, if he had seen the maiden who sat in the next room. The color was all gone out of her cheeks, and her great eyes grew larger and larger, staring at the door, and she pressed both hands against her heart, and when she tried to rise, it seemed as if the earth trembled, and thunder rolled above her, and the voice outside struck like, lightning to her heart. She did not know, she could not make it clear in this brief moment; but the garden, which she had planted years ago, with quiet, modest flowers, with shady trees, where she had so often watched the evening star, and on which the silent night had fallen, stood suddenly revealed before her, in the lightning flashes, and when these passed over, and the heart was bowed down, suddenly the sun arose, with such blinding radiance, that she must turn away her eyes; but yet she could not, for in her quiet garden wonder after wonder was bursting into bloom in the sunlight; the modest violets changed into red roses, shining like a bridal wreath, and the odor of the fragrant blossoms changed into the song of nightingales calling to their mates. And her hands sank down from her heart, and her heart beat evenly, and full, and when he entered the door, holding Habermann's hand, she threw herself on his breast, and the earth no longer trembled, and the thunder no longer rolled, and no lightning flashes smote her; but light was all around her, pure light! And they spoke to each other, they talked much with each other: "Franz!" "Louise!" and no one understood their language, and they all stood about her, and could not understand, for it was long since they had heard the language, and yet they must have had some perception of its meaning, for Uncle Bräsig took pity on the young people, who were flying away, above the earth, among the clouds, and brought them back, with a shock, to terra firma.
"Frau Pastorin," said he, "when I had three sweethearts at once----"
"For shame, Bräsig!" cried Frau Pastorin, through her tears of emotion.
"Frau Pastorin, you said the same thing, when I wrote, through Doctor Urtlingen, to the young Herr von Rambow, at Paris; but I wasn't, at all ashamed, and I am not ashamed to-day; I have never in my life done anything to be ashamed of. For, you see, Frau Pastorin," and he placed himself before her with great dignity, and blew his nose, but rather, above it, as if something had got into his eyes; "you see, Frau Pastorin, I have brought about a good many rendezvous lately; first in the water-ditch----"
"Bräsig!" cried the little Frau Pastorin.
"Be quiet, Frau Pastorin, I shall say nothing about it, and I will tell lies for you, if it is necessary. Secondly, Gottlieb and Lining in the cherry-tree; thirdly, Rudolph and Mining, also in the cherry-tree; but you must not think it strange if a man has a certain feeling of pride, at having brought about a rendezvous between Rahnstadt and Paris; and that is what I have done."
"Yes," said Franz, coming down to the earth, "you have done that, and I thank you heartily for your beautiful letter. It is here, I keep it always by me."
"Hm!" said Uncle Bräsig, "always by him! Very much obliged! Would you have the kindness to tell me, quite sincerely, do you value the letter so highly, on account of my style,--you know, Karl, I was always ahead of you in style, at Pastor Behrend's,--or is it because the letter-paper belonged to Louise?"
"For both reasons!" cried Franz, laughing heartily, "but chiefly because of the good news contained in your letter. Yes," he added, turning to Habermann, "now these torments, these self-torments, are over, the last shadow of reason for our separation has vanished," and he went up to Louise, and gave her a kiss; it was a very remarkable kiss, it might have been divided by twelve, and each result have been an entire kiss.
"Bless me!" said the Frau Pastorin, at last, "the morning is shining in at the window."
"Yes, Frau Pastorin," said Bräsig, "and you have been watching all night, and you are an old lady, and not used to it; you should go to bed."
"Bräsig is right," said Habermann, "and you, Louise, go to bed, too!"
"Come, child," said the Frau Pastorin, "there will be another day to-morrow, and a happy day, too," and she kissed her. "Now your happy days are coming, and, in yours, I shall live mine over again." They went out.
"Herr von Rambow," said Habermann.
"Why not Franz?" said the young man.
"Well, then, Franz, my dear son, you can sleep in my bed, up-stairs, with Bräsig, I----"
"I cannot sleep," interposed Franz.
"Karl," said Bräsig, "I am not at all sleepy, either, my time for sleeping and nightly rest is over." He went to the window, opened it, and looked out at the weather: "Karl, it looks to me as if this morning would be a good time for the perch to bite. I must go out, I shall get too fidgety here; I will go fishing; in the Rexow firs, there is a place under the trees, where there is a splendid perch. So, good-morning, young Herr von Rambow, good-morning, Karl, entertain yourself with your future son-in-law." With that, he went off.
"But how did it happen, dear father," asked Franz, "that I found you all up so late? I started from Paris, immediately on receiving Bräsig's letter, travelled night and day, and arrived at my estate day before yesterday. But there was so much to be attended to,--my inspector is just leaving, he is going to be married,--that I could not leave, to come hither, until about this time yesterday morning. I had sent forward relays, however, and when I arrived,--well, I may as well confess,--I wanted at least to see the house in which Louise was sleeping. And here I found you all stirring."
"Ah," sighed Habermann, "it was a sad occasion. It was on account of the young Herr von Rambow of Pumpelhagen, his wife was here herself. She has suffered terribly, but there was no help for it; and even yet everything is in suspense. Would God you had come half an hour sooner; then I believe it could all have been settled." And he related what had happened, first and last, and all with such sincere regret and such cordial interest, that an earnest wish arose in Franz's heart; he must help, also, in the matter, and the best of it was, he could help. He had had the fortune to have trustworthy guardians, and honest and capable inspectors; his property and estates had increased in value under their hands, and, more recently, under his own, for he had not made it a ladder, on which to descend to abysses of misfortune and ruin, and his good sense had kept him from folly. Now he could render a thank-offering for his happiness, for he had not only the will but the ability to do good.
The two friends talked of many things, and what seemed good to the one was approved by the other; they would both help, and it was settled that Franz should have an interview with Moses; but, in spite of all their sincerity, each had a secret from the other. Habermann dared say nothing of Axel's debt to his sisters, the young Frau had confessed it to him with bitter tears and a bleeding heart, the secret was not his own property, but that of another, dearly bought and dearly won. Franz also had his secret, but it must have been a good one, for his face was full of thoughtful joy, and he put one foot up comfortably, on the sofa, and then the other, and he nodded to Habermann, in a friendly way, as he went on talking, and he kept nodding, and finally nodded himself to sleep. Youth and nature must have their rights. Old Habermann got up softly, and looked at him. Joyous thoughts were still hovering over his face, like the beams of the setting sun over a clear, still, transparent lake, and the old man brought a coverlet, and wrapped it gently over him, and then he went out into the Frau Pastorin's little back-garden, and seated himself in an arbor, which he himself had planted, several years before, in his trouble and sorrow, and looked at the window of the room where his daughter slept. Ah, did she sleep? Who can sleep, with bright sunlight shining in the heart? Who can sleep when every sound turns into a melody singing of love and happiness? A light step sounded on the gravel in the garden path, and a lovely maiden, in a light morning dress, approached, turning up her face to the sun-rising, and, with her hands folded on her breast, gazing at the morning sun, as if she too longer feared to be blinded by its light; but tears ran down her rosy cheeks. Right, Louise! The sun is God's sun, and the happiness is God's happiness, and when it shines bright and dazzling in our eyes, tears are good, they soften the light. She bent down, and lifted a rose, to inhale its fragrance, but did not pluck it. Right, Louise! Roses are earthly roses, joys are earthly joys, they both blossom in their season, leave them to their season. Wilt thou enjoy them before their time, thou hast only a withered rose on thy breast, and a withered joy in thy heart.
She walked on slowly, through the garden, and when she came to the arbor, where her old father sat, she sprang towards him, threw herself into his arms, and nestled her head upon his bosom: "Father! father!" Right, Louise! Here is thy rightful place! In thy father's heart beams God's sunshine, in thy father's heart bloom earthly roses.
Frau Nüssler took Frida back to Pumpelhagen, dropping many a comforting word, which fell, like the dew upon a scorched field, on the young Frau's heart, and if it were not yet quite ready to sprout with fresh green, Frau Nüssler would have said, "Never fear! My brother Karl will manage that."
So the young Frau entered her room, in the gray morning, in quite a different mood from that of the evening before, when she had rushed put into the storm; and, with hope, love and faith had returned to her heart. She went up softly and kindly to Fika Degel, who sat in an arm-chair, watching by her child, and had fallen asleep, and stroking her hair gently said:
"Fika, I thank you very much; but you must be weary; go to bed."
"Gracious Frau," said Fika, starting up from a dream of her lover, "she has slept very quietly; I had to give her drink only once."
"Good," said the young Frau, "go to bed." And when the maid was gone, she stood before her child, and looked at her; no! no! the sad lot of a poor noble Fräulein was not suited to that lovely face, and the thoughts of last evening were not suited to the thoughts of this morning. Her soul had suffered torments, fearful torments, during the night, but in the night, and through the torments, hope had been born in her heart, and this child of anguish had fallen upon her neck, and nestled closely to her, and kissed her, and stroked her face, and the blue eyes were beaming heavenward, and in them shone confidence,--yes, and victory.
The young Frau went to bed, and before her rose all the forms of the night: Korlin Kegel and Frau Nüssler, the Frau Pastorin and Louise, Habermann and Bräsig, they all stood, clear and distinct, before her eyes, she understood them all, in their true-hearted conduct and character; but among these images was another, which she did not understand; that was the old Jew. Such clear light fell upon him, and such dark shadows lay in the folds of his dressing-gown, and the wrinkles of his face,--she had never seen such an image,--that all grew indistinct before her eyes, and when she thought of his leave-taking, the image grew larger and larger, and even more indistinct, and she folded her hands upon her breast, and slept.
She slept, and the old Jew was in her dreams, but they were happy dreams; only once she started up, for it seemed to her that a carriage drove into the yard. She listened; but body and soul longed for rest; her head sank back on the pillow, and the friendly dream again hovered over her fair head, and whispered wonderful things in her ears.
But she had not heard falsely; a carriage had really driven into the yard, and in the carriage sat her husband. Axel had been driving about the country, like a speculator buying up eggs and poultry; he had halted before every door, and knocked, like a travelling beggar; he had asked help from business acquaintances, he had complained of his troubles to old friends, whom he had learned to know at the races, who had often borrowed money from him; nobody was at home, and those whom he met accidentally had left their purses at home. So long as we go about in brand new breeches, we have many friends, but when they are worn out, and our others have a patch on each knee, our friends feel ashamed of us. This was Axel's bitter experience. Without his sisters' knowledge, he had secretly been in Schwerin; he had gone to the Jew, who had transacted the business so readily and quickly; but where were his securities? From his hotel he had looked over towards the region where Franz's estates lay; but where was Franz? He had done the last thing possible, he had gone to his brother-in-law, Breitenburg, with whom he had always been on bad terms; he had endured his cold reception, had told him of his terrible situation, but had said nothing about his sisters' money; Breitenburg had looked him sharply in the eyes, and turned his back upon him:
"Tu l'as voulu, George Dandin! And do you think I will throw my hard-earned savings into this pit, dug by your folly? It was not brought me by your sister."
Axel was going to say something about the seven thousand thalers, which his father had borrowed for him from Moses; then his brother-in-law turned upon him, and asked him, right to his face, "Where are the thirteen thousand thalers, out of which you have swindled your sisters?"
That struck him dumb,--the brother-in-law knew it would,--he turned pale, rushed out of the door, and got into his carriage.
"Where?" asked the coachman.
"Home."
"Where shall we stop to-night?"
"At home."
"Herr, the horses won't hold out."
"They must."
So they drove home, and when he got out Johann stood by the two good browns: "So, the two wheel-horses were driven to death before, and now the leaders are ruined; we have a span of cripples."
Axel went up to his room with heavy steps, it was broad daylight; in his room everything was as usual, and usually he found himself very comfortable there, and the old use and wont appealed softly to his heart; but his heart was not the old heart, heart and mind were changed, and use and wont no longer harmonized with them. He was restless and troubled; he opened the window, that the fresh morning air might cool his heated brow; he threw himself into the chair, that stood before his writing table, and pressed his head in both hands, as if it were held in a vice. Then his eyes fell upon a letter, the writing seemed familiar, he must have seen it before; he opened it; yes, it was from his sister. What had his brother-in-law, Breitenburg, called him? Yes, that was it! He looked out of the window; behind the Rexow firs the sun was rising.
He looked at the letter again; it contained friendly words, but what did words avail, he had no money. He looked out of the window again, before him lay a field of wheat; ah, if it were ripe and threshed out, and had borne twenty-fold, then--no! no! even then it could not help him. And again his eyes returned to the letter; friendly words! but soon the words became more earnest, and looked at him sternly, he could not turn his eyes away; he read them to the end, and there it stood: "On this account, I have written to Frida also, for, dear, dear brother, if you have not safely invested our capital, we poor girls are utterly ruined!"
"Yes, ruined!" he cried, "ruined!" and sprang from the chair, and strode about the room, He went to the window; before him lay nature in her fullest splendor, and nature has power over every heart, but the heart must harmonize with nature, it must open itself fully and freely to the sunlight, and receive into itself the green earth and the blue heavens and the golden beams. But his heart was not open to these influences, his situation had overpowered him, and his thoughts turned solely and miserably to the most pitiable human resources. Money, money! He could coin no louis-d'ors from the sunbeams.
He threw himself into his chair again; sosheknew it, too. He had told her many lies, which she could not prove false; there was no use in lying now, she knew it. And she seemed to stand before him with her child in her arms, and to look at him sternly, and her clear gray eyes asked, "Have we deserved this at your hands?" and his three sisters stood around him, with sunken cheeks and pale lips, saying, "Yes Axel, dear Axel, utterly ruined!" And behind the old maids stood a darker form, in guise that was not of this earth, and that was his father, who called to him, "Thou shouldst have been a prop for my old house, but thou hast taken away stone after stone, and my house is falling to the ground." He could endure it no longer, he started up,--the ghosts vanished,--he ran up and down, and when he recollected himself, he was standing before a closet where he kept his fire-arms. Ah, he knew a place, so lonely, so still, it was the Lauban pond in the Rexow firs; he had often been there with the chase, when the brave old forester, Slang, was hunting; he could do it there. He opened the closet, and took out the revolver which Triddelsitz had procured for him, to shoot at the day-laborers. He tried it; yes! it was loaded. He went out of the door, but as he crossed the landing, he saw the door which led into Frida's room, where his wife and his child lay sleeping; he was startled, he tottered back; all the joy he had experienced in the faithful affection of his wife, in the lovely awakening nature of his child, came back to him; he fell upon the threshold before the door, and burning tears started from his eyes, and these tears, this earnest prayer to God, may have saved him,--we shall see how,--for the Lord holds us by slender, invisible threads.
He rose up, the prayer had not been for his own soul, but for others; he walked away, he went to the lonely Lauban pond. He threw himself down under the firs, behind a bush, took the revolver from his pocket, and laid it beside him; he looked once more, eagerly, mournfully, at the world around him; he looked once more at the sun, God's beautiful sun, for the last time; soon, night would fall upon him forever. The sun blinded him, he took out his handkerchief, and covered his eyes, and now the last, the most terrible thoughts overcame him. He sighed deeply; "It must be!" he exclaimed.
"A fine morning, Herr von Rambow!" cried a friendly, human voice, close by. Axel tore the cloth from his eyes, and threw it over the revolver.
"You are up early!" said Zachary Bräsig, for it was he, and he threw himself down by Axel, on the grass. "Have you come out fishing, too?" With that, he laid his hand on the handkerchief and the revolver: "Ah, so! You were going to practise pistol-shooting a little. I used to be a very good shot, myself, could shoot out the ace of hearts and the ace of clubs, without fail."
Then he stood up, with the revolver in his hand: "You see that mark on the fir yonder,--they are getting ready to fell timber,--I will wager four groschen, I never bet higher,"--bang! the shot went wide of the mark,--bang I missed it again, and yet again, and so on with the six shots.
"Who would have thought it? All missed! Who would have thought it? Well, I have lost. Here are the four groschen. That is such an old fool of a pistol!" he cried, and tossed the revolver far out into the pond, "children and young people might hurt themselves with it."
Axel was in a strange humor; all at once, between his firm, deliberate resolve, to which he had been driven through fierce struggle and conflict, and the dark portal he was about to enter, stood this familiar, yes, in his eyes even vulgar life, as audacious and impertinent as a peasant at a fair, which could be shoved aside, neither to the right hand nor the left. He started up:
"Herr!"
"Herr-rr!" cried Bräsig in return.
"What do you want here?"
"And what doyouwant here?" asked Bräsig back again.
"You are an impertinent fool!" cried Axel.
"You are the greatest fool!" cried Uncle Bräsig, "you were about to commit the most fearful crime, from a reckless impulse, and you had forgotten everything,--your wife, your child. Hm! just touch a little spring, then we are out of it all! Wasn't it so? Who is the fool now?"
Axel leaned against a tree, with one hand pressed to his heart, and the other shading his eyes from the sun, and before him stood this vulgar man, with a fishing-rod in his hand, and had interposed between him and the dark portal,--it was life, however!
"Do you see!" continued Uncle Bräsig, "if you had come three minutes earlier than I,"--those were the three minutes when he lay praying, on the threshold, for his wife and child,--"then you would be lying here, with a hole in your head, a frightful object; and when you had gone up to the throne of God, our Lord would have said to you: 'Thou fool! Thou didst not know, what, this very night, thy dear gracious Frau was doing for thee, and the Herr Inspector Habermann, and Frau Nüssler, and the Frau Pastorin and Moses, and--and the others,'--and when the Lord had told you, do you know what you would have suffered? Hell torments!"
Axel removed his hand from his eyes, and stared at Bräsig:
"What? what did you say?"
"That thirty-one thousand thalers have been advanced for you, this night, and Moses advances it, and your cousin Franz has arrived, who may possibly do something more. But you are an ignorant creature, who lets that greyhound of a Triddelsitz get revolvers, to shoot the day-laborers with, and then goes to shooting himself."
"Franz is here? Franz, did you say?"
"Yes, he is here; but he did not come on your account, he is here because he is determined to make Louise Habermann Frau von Rambow; but if you want to thank anybody,--Franz will do something, will perhaps do something more,--then go to your dear gracious Frau, and to Karl Habermann; you can go to Moses also, if you like, and you must not forget Frau Nüssler, and the Frau Pastorin, they have all been good to you this night."
I never attempted to shoot myself, and cannot tell exactly how a poor man would feel, when, between himself and his resolution, ordinary life presses in so forcibly. I should think it might be a little vexatious, as when a weary, weary traveller is offered a glass of flat, sour beer,--and Uncle Bräsig looked a little sour, this morning,--which he may not refuse; but then comes the love of life, dear, human life, and a wife, with a child on her arm, pours him a glass of cool, fresh wine, and he drains the glass: "So! now tell me what has happened."
Uncle Bräsig related the good news, and Axel tottered from the tree, and fell upon the old man's neck.
"Herr Bräsig! Dear Herr Bräsig! Is it all true?"
"What do you mean? Do you think I would deceive you, at such a moment as this?"
Axel turned dizzy before the black abyss, into which, just now, he had looked so boldly; he staggered back, and there was a singing and a ringing in his ears, and a glowing and shining before his eyes and everything to which he was usually indifferent pressed overpoweringly upon him,--he pressed his hands over his eyes and began to weep bitterly. Uncle Bräsig stood and looked at him compassionately, and going up to him with the most tender pity took him by the shoulder, and shook him gently, saying:
"We all wander, here, in confusion, and you are greatly to blame for your misfortunes; but the fault is not wholly yours: what possessed your blessed Frau Mother to make a lieutenant of you? How could a farmer be made out of a lieutenant? It is just as if the musician, David Berger, who has blown half his breath out of his body with his trumpet, should set up to be pastor, and preach preach with his half-breath; he couldn't hold out. But"--and he took the young man by the arm,--"come away from this place, and then you will feel better."
"Yes, yes!" cried Axel, "you are right! All my misfortunes arose from this unblessed soldier career. I got in debt there, and these first debts brought others in their train. But," he added, standing still, "what shall I say to my wife?"
"Nothing at all," said Bräsig.
"No," said Axel, "I have solemnly resolved to tell her the whole truth, henceforth."
"Do you think the young gracious Frau will be likely to ask you--right to your face--why you didn't shoot yourself this morning? If you should get into any difficulty about it, I will tell fibs for you, I should not mind doing it; for it would be too horrible that such a dear young Frau should carry the thought with her, through her whole life, that the husband who should have cared for her was ready to leave her and her child, like a coward. No!" he added firmly, "she must not know it; no one need know it, but you and I. And make yourself easy, she is still asleep, for she could not have gone to bed before morning, and she must have been dreadfully tired."
They came back to Pumpelhagen, and met Daniel Sadenwater in the hall.
"Daniel," said Bräsig, "let us have a little breakfast, as soon as possible. For," he added, when Daniel was gone, "you must eat a little something, so as to have a different feeling in your stomach, for such things take away a man's strength." Did he speak entirely from benevolence, or a little from self-love? For when the breakfast came, Axel ate nothing, but he ate like a thresher.
About ten o'clock, Frida came into the room, and exclaimed:
"Herr Inspector! and you, Axel?"
"Yes, dear Frida: I got home this morning," said the young man in a low voice.
"And now you will not go away again, now you will stay here," said Frida, decidedly. "Ah, Axel, I have much to tell you,--good news. But how do you and the Herr Inspector happen to be together?"
Now, thought Uncle Bräsig, it is time to keep my promise about fibbing. "I went out for a little fishing, this morning,--you will not take it ill, gracious Frau, that I have left my fishing-rod in your hall,--and I met the Herr von Rambow, who was out walking, and we looked at his wheat together, and he invited me here to breakfast. But, gracious Frau, what fine sausage! you must surely have got the recipe from Frau Nüssler."
"No," said Frida, absently, looking at Bräsig and at Axel, as if it seemed very strange to her that Axel should have invited the old inspector. "How did it happen, Herr Inspector," she began. Hold! thought Bräsig, you will fib yourself into a trap, you must give another turn to the conversation, so he interrupted:
"With your leave, gracious Frau, you always call me 'inspector,' and so I have been; but I have been promoted, I am, now assessor at the court. Apohpoh!" turning to Axel, "why don't you take your money, that lies ready for you at the court, in Rahnstadt?"
"What money?" inquired Axel.
"Why, the fifteen hundred thalers, that the baggage hadn't spent. You must have had a letter about it, several weeks ago, from the court."
"I have had so many letters from the court, of late, that I no longer open them."
"I know about the business," cried Frida. "Frau Nüssler told me, on the way. I will get the letter," and she ran out of the door.
"Young Herr von Rambow," said Bräsig, drawing himself up, "there you have done wrong again, for we judges are not only the punishers of mankind, we are also the benefactors of mankind."
"But do tell me what money it is!"
"Here is the letter," said Frida, giving it to her husband.
Axel opened it, and with what feelings! "Money, money!" had so long been the cry of his soul, always "Money!" Now this sum of money fell unexpectedly into his lap, but what money! "Oh, my God!" he cried, staggering blindly about the room, like a sleep-walker, "then that was not true either! All of it false! In whose hands have I been? Deceived in everything,--self-deceived! Bitterly self-deceived!"
He rushed out of the door, Frida would have followed him, but Bräsig held her back. "Let me go, gracious Frau! I know a way to quiet him." He followed him to the garden, where he was raging up and down; the old man placed himself in the way:
"Herr, what sort of performances are these?"
"Get out of my way!" cried Axel.
"No," said Bräsig, "there is no necessity for it. Aren't you ashamed, to frighten your wife to death with your wild behavior?"
"Why did you not let me destroy myself?" cried Axel; "this is a thousand times worse than death! To receive benefits, and such benefits, from people, whom in better times I have despised and slandered, yes, even ruined! Not merely to receive,--no!--if one will live,--to beobligedto receive it! Oh, oh!" he cried, striking his forehead, "why should I live? How can I live, with this sting in my heart?"
So he raged against himself and the world, and Uncle Bräsig stood by quietly and looked at him. At last he said, "Go on like that a little longer; that pleases me uncommonly; the old nobleman's humor must work itself out. What? You will have no friendship with honest, burgher people? Isn't it so? If the Herr Vons should come, or even the Pomuchelskopps and Slusuhrs and Davids, so that nobody need know, of it, that would be more agreeable to you; but they won't come any more. But that is only a secondary matter; you ought to be ashamed that, under the eye of God, who delivered you this morning, you have again expressed the wish that you had shot yourself. Why, you are a double suicide!"
Axel was silent, and turned pale; he trembled, as he thought of the abyss into which he had looked that morning; Bräsig took his arm and seated him on the bench, where his old father and his young wife had sat, in their anguish and distress. Gradually he recovered himself, and Zachary Bräsig took him again by the arm: "Come! come to your gracious Frau! That is the best place for you now," and Axel followed like a lamb, and when his dear young wife took him in her arms, and drew him down by her on the sofa, and comforted him, then the hot tears started from his eyes, the last ice was broken up, and under the warmth of her lovely, spring sunshine his whole soul flowed out, open and free,--still in swelling waves, but free. And Zachary Bräsig stood at the window, and drummed the old Dessauer, so that Fritz Triddelsitz, who was passing by, came up and asked, "Herr Inspector, do you want me?"
"No!" growled Bräsig, "go about your business, and attend to your farming."
A carriage drove up, and Habermann and Franz got out of it. Franz had gone with Habermann, about nine o'clock, to see Moses, and had told him that, instead of the other good people, he would pay the thirty-one thousand for his cousin, and Moses kept nodding his head, and said, "You are good; the others are good, too; but you are rich; better is better."
When the business was settled, and Franz had gone a little way along the street with Habermann, he said, "Dear father, sit down here a moment, on this bench, I will come back directly, I have forgotten something I wanted to speak to Moses about." And when he went back to Moses he said, "My father-in-law, Habermann, told me, this morning, that Pomuchelskopp wants to sell Gurlitz."
"Wonder of wonders!" cried Moses, "Habermann, father-in-law! What does it mean?"
"I am going to marry his daughter."
The old Jew rose painfully from his chair, and laid his withered hand on the young head of the Christian nobleman:
"The God of Abraham bless you! You marry into a good family."
And after a little, Franz said, "Buy it for me, transact the business for me, but my name must not be mentioned, and no one--especially Habermann--is to know anything about it. At St. John's, I can raise a hundred thousand thalers."
"But how high shall I go?"
"I Leave that to you; but inquire about it to-day. I will come again to-morrow, and we can talk it over."
"Well," said Moses, "this is business, this is honest business. Why shouldn't I do a little business?"
Franz left him.
When Axel saw the two getting out of the carriage, he tried to control himself, and to conceal his agitation, but in vain. Too wild a flood was rushing through his soul, the green leaves were torn and scattered, and branches and limbs of trees floated down the current; Frida and Bräsig interposed; and when he was rushing towards Habermann impulsively, Frida held him back, saying, "Axel, dear Axel, not now! To-morrow, the day after, any time! You can always find him."
And Habermann took his hat, and said he had a message from Fritz Triddelsitz's father, and went out. Franz went up to Axel, and embraced him, and said, "Come into the other room, Axel, I have much to say to you."
And when they had been there awhile, Franz looked in at the door, and called Frida. And, a while after, Daniel Sadenwater ran out into the yard, to look for the Herr Inspector Habermann, and as he passed in, before Bräsig's eyes, Bräsig began to find it lonely in the room, and he went out into the garden, and placed himself on a little elevation, and looked over to the Rexow firs, and the Lauban pond, thinking his own thoughts, and they began in this wise: "Remarkable! What is life, what is human life?" and when his thoughts had lasted about an hour and a halt, and he had snapped at innumerable flies, they at last broke out into words: "I wish one could get something to eat, by and by, and then a quiet place, to recreate one's self a little!"
And his wish was granted, for Daniel came and called him, and when he entered the room Habermann stood by Axel, holding his hand, and Franz was rubbing his hands, and looking at the dinner-table, and he came up to Bräsig, saying, "Herr Inspector, we have good appetites to-day!" And Frida stood there, with the sweetest smile, and the most blessed content in her face, and said:
"Herr Inspector,--Herr Assessor, I would say,--when we first came to Pumpelhagen, you were my neighbor at table, now that we are going away, you must be so once more."
"Going away?"
"Yes, old friend," said Habermann, "you are a Jack of all trades, and know all that is going on; but you never thought of this: the Herr von Rambow has exchanged with Franz, he takes Hogen Selchow, and Franz, Pumpelhagen."
"That is a good arrangement, Karl, and if you crack your jokes on me, because I knew nothing about it, I knew, at least, several years ago, that the Herr von Rambow, who was your pupil, would come to something." And he went up to Franz, and shook his hand heartily.
After dinner, many things were talked over, and every one could perceive, by Axel's demeanor, how much lighter his heart was, now that he was no longer indebted to these people, but only to his cousin; and in this better mood, he agreed to everything, promised to let the inspector manage the estate, and to give Franz proper security.
Our story rapidly approaches its conclusion. After a week or so, Moses came to terms with Pomuchelskopp, for Gurlitz. It was sold for a hundred and ninety-two thousand thalers. From Moses Franz went straight to Schultz, the carpenter:
"Herr Schultz, can you hold your tongue?"
"Trust me for that."
"Well,--I am now owner of Pumpelhagen; send some of your people out there, and let them tear down the paddocks you built yonder."
"I have thought, all along, that the beasts would have a short life."
"Well; I am also, after St. John's, the owner of Gurlitz."
"See, see! So with Herr Pomuchelskopp too, it is at last: 'Out! out!'"
"Yes; but now listen to me. I want to have a pastor's-widow-house built there, and it must be planned exactly like the parsonage, and stand just opposite, close by the church-yard. You can take the measure to-morrow."
"No need of that, I have two measures already, one of my own, and one that Mamselle Habermann took, with her apron-strings and cap-ribbons."
"Good," said Franz, and a merry smile overspread his face, "use that one."
"But it wasn't right."
"No matter! You must build after that measure. Buy your needful timber to-morrow, engage carriers here in Rahnstadt, and a good master mason; but before all things, don't breathe a word of it to anybody! If you want money, apply to Moses."
He went off, and old carpenter Schultz stood in the door, looking after him.
"Noblemen, noblemen! Crazy performances! Cap-ribbons! Apron-strings! But Pomuchelskopp out! out! Isn't that good news?"
Franz went to Hogen Selchow; Habermann and Inspector Bremer, who had been engaged for Axel, went with him. Axel departed, with bag and baggage, and the burgomeister from Rahnstadt came in, to superintend the transfer of the property, and with him Bräsig, as assessor. Three weeks were taken up in this business, and in the repairs and refurnishing of Pumpelhagen; then all was arranged to satisfaction. The Frau Pastorin, also, had completed the preparations for the wedding. I shall write about this wedding, exactly as it was; it passed over very quietly, and I shall quietly pass it over.
The day after the wedding, Louise and Franz, and the Frau Pastorin and Habermann, sat in a great coach, and Bräsig was on the box, and they drove to Pumpelhagen. As they passed through Gurlitz, there was a great display of fir boards and beams, and oaken sills, and a notched beam lay all ready, on one side, and the carpenter, Schultz, stood there, in his shirt sleeves, superintending his workmen. Franz stopped the carriage, and called out to the energetic old man, "Is everything ready, Herr Schultz?"
"Everything is ready."
"Then you may speak, Herr Schultz."
"All right!" said Schultz. "But, Mamselle Hab---- I should say, gracious Frau, what trouble you have cost me! When I thought I had it, I hadn't it by a long way. I shall have to put in another notched beam."
"What?" asked Louise, and looked at Franz.
"Only this, dear child," said Franz, putting his arm around her, "that I have bought Gurlitz, and am going to build a pastor's-widow-house here, just like the parsonage."
"For me?" cried the little Frau Pastorin, and the tears which had risen to her eyes, when she looked at the church-yard where her Pastor slept, flowed freely, and she grasped his hand, and bathed it with tears of joy, for the tears which start in sadness often change to tears of joy.
"And I thought," continued Franz, "that my father-in-law and Bräsig might live with you, as they have done. And I thought, father, you could undertake the management of Gurlitz, and you and Bräsig could also have an eye to Pumpelhagen, and see if it is managed properly."
"Just the thing!" cried Bräsig, from the box, who had heard everything because the front was down, "Karl, what did I say to you? He'll do!"
Habermann's eyes glistened with joy. To have occupation and responsibility again! to be active and useful! Louise threw herself upon her husband's breast: "Franz, what a dear, dear fellow you are!" And the carriage drove on, and arrived at Pumpelhagen. No triumphal arches this time,--but in every heart was erected a triumphal arch, to the glory of the Heavenly Father!
I have now finished my story, and might as well make an end of it; but I know how it is: many people would like to be informed of what has happened to our friends during the eighteen years since 1848, and so I will write one more chapter.