When Bräsig had opened his budget of news from Rexow and Gurlitz, and the Frau Pastorin and Habermann had no more questions to ask, he took flight again.
"You won't take it unkindly, Frau Pastorin, or you either, Karl, but as soon as I can change my boots I must go to the Reform. You ought to come with me, Karl, we are going to elect a new president to-day, because the old one, as he says, can't stand it any longer. I shall vote for the advocate Rein,--do you know him? A capital man, a thoroughly good fellow,--but he makes jokes, to be sure; and then we have a very important question for discussion, to-day,--Rector Baldrian says it is demanded by the spirit of the times,--we are going to find out how there comes to be such great poverty in the world. You ought to come with me, Karl."
But Karl would not go, and Bräsig went alone.
The first person upon whom his eyes fell, as he entered the hall of the Reformverein, was--Zamel Pomuchelskopp, who, as he perceived Bräsig, came right up to him, saying, "Good-evening, dear brother, how are you, dear Zachary?"
There were not many who observed how Bräsig received this salutation, and those who saw it did not comprehend it clearly; but shoemaker Bank had seen it, and told me about it. "Fritz," said he, "see here, if you should look at the Herr Inspector's face in a shoemaker's glass, he looked like that; the mouth was so broad, and the nose so thick, and his whole face looked like fire and fat, and as he put out one foot before him and said, 'Herr Zamwell Pomuchelskopp, I am no brother of yours,' do you know what he looked like? Exactly like the old Sandwirth Hofer, of Tyrol, when he is to be hung on the wall by Landlord Voss, at Ivenach, only that he had no musket in his hand. And then he turned his back to him, and such a back! and went up to the election-table, and gave his vote for the new president, and said aloud, through the hall, 'I vote for the Herr Advocate Rein, for our business must be pure (rein), and if any dirty fellows come in here they must be turned out.' No body understood what he meant; but they were all still as mice, for they knew something had happened; and as he went through the hall they all made room for him, for he looked like a mad bull; but he seated himself quietly at the other end of the hall, and all the members of the Reformverein know what happened afterwards."
This is what Hanne Bank told me, and I believe him, for he was a good friend of mine, and an honest man, although he was only a shoemaker; he was sent to a bloody grave, in his best years, by a good-for-nothing scoundrel, because he stood up for the right, and although it may be out of place here, I will write it, that the memory of such an honest man and good friend may be honored elsewhere than on his tombstone.
So Zachary Bräsig seated himself at the farther end of the hall, and sat there like a thunder-storm, ready at any moment to break loose. The advocate Rein was made president, he touched the bell, crawled into the cask, and returned thanks for the honor, and finally said,--
"Gentlemen, before we begin our discussion of the poverty-question, I have the pleasure to announce to you that the Herr Proprietor of Gurlitz proposes himself as a member of our Reformverein. I believe there is no one who will oppose his admission."
"So?" cried a terribly spiteful voice behind him, "are you so sure of that? I beg for a word or two," and as the new president turned round, there stood Uncle Bräsig, by the cooling-vat.
"Herr Inspector Bräsig has the floor," said the president, and Uncle Bräsig stuffed himself into the cooling-vat.
"Fellow-citizens," he began, "how long is it, since we declared for Liberty, Equality and Fraternity here at Grammelin's? I will say nothing about Liberty, although I cannot stir my body in this confounded cask; nor will I speak of Equality, for our new president gives us a good example of that, since he always goes about in a gray coat, and not, like certain people, in a blue dress-coat with gilt buttons; but I wish to speak of Fraternity. Fellow-citizens! I ask you, is that Fraternity, when a man wants to pull off his brother's boots? and when a man will let his fellow-creature run about in the snow, like a crow, or if the snow is gone, in the mud? and a man boasts himself against another, and makes game of him? I ask you, is that Fraternity? and I tell you Herr Zamwell is such a brother as that. And I have nothing more to say."
He came down from the speaker's stand, and blew his nose, as if he were sounding a trumpet over his speech.
Tailor Wimmersdorf then took the floor, and said the Rahnstadt Reform must consider it a great honor to have a proprietor among them; so far as he knew, it was the only one, for the Herr von Zanzel, although he owned an estate, and was a member, was not to be counted, for he made no purchases in Rahnstadt, and had nothing to do with them. He voted for the Herr Proprietor.
"Bravo!" resounded through the hall. "Wimmersdorf is right! Neighbor, you are right! How shall we live, if we don't keep on good terms with such people?"
"That is not my opinion," said Schultz, the carpenter, creeping softly up into the cask, like a fat snail, out of its shell, and he looked like one, for all the world. "Stuff and nonsense, tailor Wimmersdorf, stuff and nonsense! Did the Gurlitz potentate trouble himself about us, did he pay up our bills, before he needed us? Why does he stand here in the hall, when his admission has been opposed? Hasn't he modesty enough to go out? But no! And why? Because he is a Great Mogul. I say, out with him, out!" and the snail crept into its shell again.
"Out! out!" cried several voices, and others cried, "Speak again! Go on!" and a rascally shoemaker sung out in a clear voice,--
"Snail, snail, come out of your shell!Stick out your horns, we know you well!"
"Snail, snail, come out of your shell!Stick out your horns, we know you well!"
But Schultz the carpenter would not come, he knew very well that he should only weaken the impression his speech had made; he preferred to strengthen it, he stood with Bräsig, behind the scenes, and both called, "Out! out!" and they would certainly have gained their point, had not the devil pushed forward David and Slusuhr, into the cooling-vat, each with a moustache, to signify that they were excessively liberal. They sung Pomuchelskopp's praises with psaltery and harp; he was a helpful angel, said Slusuhr,--"Yes, a fat angel," cried that rogue of a shoemaker,--he had helped many a poor family here in Rahnstadt,--he said nothing about the ten per cent. interest,--and he would do much more for the city. David began the same song, a little colored with saffron and spiced with garlic. "Gentlemen!" said he, making a low bow to the roguish shoemaker, who received it very quietly, "bethink yourselves, think of the good of the whole city! In the first place, there is the Herr Pomuchelskopp himself, in person, then there is the gracious Frau Pomuchelskopp,--a fearfully clever woman,--then there are the Fräuleins Salchen and Malchen, and the Herr Gustaving and the Herr Nanting and the Herr Philipping, and then come the Fräulein Mariechen and the Fräulein Sophiechen and the Fräulein Melaniechen, and then come the little Herr Krischaning and the little Herr Joching, and then comes the youngest of all,--well, wait a moment, I am not through yet,--and then come the house-maids, and the kitchen-maids, and the nurse-maids, and the swine-maids,--and I don't know how many more,--and then come the coachman and the grooms, and the herdsmen, and they all want something. Why should they not want something? Everybody has his wants. And they need coats and they need trousers, and they need shoes and boots, and they need stockings and shirts and jackets; and when it is cold they need warm coats, and when it is warm, they need cool ones, and when Palm Sunday comes, and they go to be confirmed, they must have nice coats, and on Christmas--good heavens! I have always said this Christ must have been a great man, what an amount of business has he introduced into the world by Christmas! And all these things we make, and sell in our shops. But who buys them of us? The Herr Pomuchelskopp buys them of us. I have nothing more to say."
And it was not necessary, for, as he finished his speech, all the tailors and shoemakers were, in imagination, making boots and shoes and trousers and jackets for the little Pomuchelskopps, and the shopkeepers were disposing of their remnants to Muchel, and Kurz had, in anticipation, sold him half his stock in trade.
But in spite of this, Bräsig and the carpenter Schultz still cried, "Out with him! Out!" and the other side cried; "Let him stay!" "Out with him!" "Let him stay!" And there was a dreadful uproar. The material interests represented by the Pomuchelskopp's boots and trousers, rose up in opposition to the ideal fraternity; it was a hard fight. At last the bell from the president's desk quieted them sufficiently for the Herr President Rein to make himself heard.
"Gentlemen," said he--"Out with him!" "Out with him!" "Let him stay!"--"Gentlemen," he began again, "Thank God!"--"Out! out!" "Let him stay!"--"Thank God! the opinion of the assembly has expressed itself so decidedly, that we can proceed to a vote. So; let all those who are in favor of admission go to the musician's gallery; those who are opposed, go to the speaker's stand."
The Rahnstadt Reformverein put itself in motion; every one trotted off as fast as he could, to show his decided opinion, and it sounded, from a distance, as if a fulling-mill were in full progress at Grammelin's, and the result of this quiet proceeding was soon manifest, for Grammelin rushed into the room, crying, "Herr President! Children! I beg of you go to some other place, or vote in a more quiet way!"
"Eh, what?" said Thiel, the joiner; "we must vote! Else it is no Reform."
"I know that, Thiel, but you are voting so hard, that the plaster is all tumbling down from the ceiling."
They perceived by this that they were going a little too fast; and from that time, they did not attempt to vote with their feet; but only with their hands.
The votes were counted; Pomuchelskopp was admitted as a regular member of the Reformverein. Schultz the carpenter turned to Bräsig, and asked, over, his shoulder, "Well, if it comes to this, Herr Inspector, what will become of Germany?"
"It is all one to me," said Bräsig; "but don't talk to me of your Fraternity!"
Now the poverty-question came upon the carpet, and after the president had explained the question, the Rahnstadt Reformverein took it up for discussion: "How poverty came to be in the world, and why it remains here."
The first who rose was Rector Baldrian. He came up from behind, like all the rest, into the speaker's stand, but piled up a great heap of books before him, as high as his shoulders, to create a favourable opinion of himself, in the minds of the audience. As he had arranged the Bible and Xenophon, and Plato and Aristotle, and Livy and Tacitus, and all that he had on hand of Cicero, he made a bow, and said those were his reserves.
"Gossip," said Johann Bank to the shoemaker, Deichert, "this will be tedious; we know what he is, come and have a glass of beer."
Then the rector began, and proved first, from the Bible, that in very old times there was poverty among the Jews.
"That is not so!" cried an eager voice from the crowd, "the confounded Jews have all the money there is; they know well how a poor man feels."
The rector did not let himself be disturbed, he proved the matter from the Bible, and then took up Xenophon, and told about the Helots in Sparta, but the assembly did not seem quite to understand it. Upon that, he opened Plato, and began on him, that is, on the "Republic," and said that if the Rahnstadters had such a state of things as Plato had planned for the Athenians, every laborer in Rahnstadt could have roast beef and potatoes for dinner every day, and could ride in a coach Sunday afternoons, and the children, who now went begging about the streets, would go with gold chains around their necks, instead of beggars' sacks.
"Let him tell us more about that!" "Three cheers for Plato!" sounded through the hall. "Gossip, is that the old Jew-grinder Platow, who is blind of one eye?"
"Eh, gossip, I knew him well enough; he has bought many a piece of beef of me," said Kräuger, the butcher.
The president's bell produced quiet, and that rogue of an advocate Rein turned to the rector, and begged, in the name of the assembly, that he would have the kindness to give the Rahnstadt Reformverein a particular account of the Platonic Republic.
That was a hard request, and the sweat ran down the poor old rector's face, as he began three times, and three times broke down, for he was far from having a clear idea of it himself. He finally said, in his distress, the Platonic Republic was a republic, and what a republic was his hearers, so well educated in political matters, knew very well. Well, everybody knew that; and then the rector got off among the Romans, and told something quite different, how sometimes the old Romans got hungry, and how they clamored loudly forpanem et circenses. "Panem, my dear hearers," said he, "signifies bread, and circenses, open air plays."
All at once, shoemaker Deichert sprang up on a bench, and cried, "That is what I say! The old Romans were no fools; and what they did, we Rahnstadters can do, any day! What? when I and Bokel and Jürendt and all the others are sitting at Pfeifers, playing vingt-et-un, shall the burgomeister come and take away our cards, and send us and Gossip Pfeifer to the Rath-house, and make us pay a fine and costs? What? I say, like the old Romans, free, open play for all!"
"You are right, there, gossip," cried Jürendt, "three cheers for the old Romans and the Herr Rector!" And the others echoed: "Hurrah! hurrah!"
The rector acknowledged the compliment to himself and the Romans by a bow, and as he noticed that the president glanced frequently at the clock, he hastened to finish his speech, and concluded with these words: "My respected hearers, if we consider poverty at the present time, we shall find that it is only the children of poor people, and of the mechanics, who go begging in our city." With that he retired, carrying off his "reserves" under his arm.
He was followed by Johann "Meinswegens." "Gentlemen," said he, "I am, meinswegens,[11]a dyer," and thereupon he extended his two hands over the cask with so much emphasis that the whole Reformverein was astonished,--"I used to go to school to the Herr Rector, and he is right, we must have a republic, meinswegens Plato's, meinswegens somebody's else; but what the Herr Rector said about the mechanics, that is a sin and a shame; I mean, meinswegens, the mechanics and not the Herr Rector. Gentlemen, I have, meinswegens, travelled into strange countries as a journeyman mechanic--"
"You sat in the chimney-corner, with your mother," cried a voice from the crowd.
"What? I have been as far as Birnbaum in Poland, and, meinswegens, farther still, ever so far! as true as the sky is blue, and on the word of an honest blue dyer," and he smote on his breast. "And, gentlemen, I could, meinswegens, keep two journeymen, only that, unfortunately, indigo is so dear."
"Oh, you rascal! You color with logwood!" cried shoemaker Deichert.
"That is a stupid joke!" cried Johann.
"What, indigo? Hear!" cried several voices, "he colors with logwood!"
"Yes," cried the roguish shoemaker, "one can easily tell the women-folk that he colors for, they look like tar-barrels, the old logwood gives such a strong color."
"Young man," asked Johann, in a very superior way, "have you, meinswegens, ever looked into my dye-tub?"
"You should hold your tongue, when we are talking about poverty; you are well enough off," cried another.
"Gentlemen, meinswegens, that is a stupid joke! It is true, I have built myself a new house----"
"Of logwood," cried the shoemaker. "Of logwood!" repeated the others.
"No! no!" cried the dyer, "of fir wood, with oaken beams!"
"Of logwood!" cried the others.
"Gentlemen," began Johann once more, very impressively, raising himself up, and striking his breast with his blue fist, "I am, meinswegens, a Rahnstadt burgher, and I have no more to say."
"That is enough!" cried several.
"Then do as you ought!" cried the day-laborers, "down with the blockhead, he tells us nothing but what we know already."
And Johann "Meinswegens" was obliged to come down from the platform.
Then came Kurz: "Fellow-citizens! We are to discuss poverty, and my honored predecessor has been speaking of indigo. That is a pretty business! Why should we poor merchants pay taxes, if every dyer may get his own indigo, and my honored Herr Predecessor can only do this, because no one can overlook his cards, and see how much indigo he uses, and how much logwood!"
"You look at the cards, yourself!" cried a voice behind him,--he looked round, right into Bräsig's face, but was not disconcerted, and went on: "For he can buy his indigo cheaper of me than even at Rostock. But, fellow-citizens, about poverty--if it goes on like this, we shall all become poor."
"He is right there, gossip," said shoemaker Deichert to Johann Bank.
"Fellow-citizens, I purchased myself an express wagon and a horse, to send home my goods, and also to make a little profit."
"We common people don't care about your little profits!" interrupted Fritz Siebert, the carrier.
"But," Kurz went on, "what happened? They laid an attachment on my wagon, last year, at Teterow----"
"Because you had not paid the tax," again interrupted Fritz Siebert.
Kurz did not mind such little interruptions as these, for he had been turned out once, and he was a persevering character, so he went on: "Our Herr Burgomeister sent for me, and asked me what sort of a wagon I sent my goods home in. 'In my own wagon,' I said. 'So,per se?' said he. 'No,' I said, 'not per sea, Rahnstadt is not a seaport; per land-carriage.' Then he laughed, and said he had expressed himself in Latin. Fellow-citizens, What are we coming to, when the magistrates express themselves in Latin, and attachments are levied on horses and wagons? That is the way to poverty. How shall we merchants live on the small profits we get on coffee and sugar, tobacco and snuff?"
"Don't talk about your cursed snuff!" cried shoemaker Deichert, "it has given me a nose like that!" and he held up his fist before his face; but he did not have a chance to say more, for everybody laughed, as they saw his natural nose peeping out on both sides of his fist.
"Fellow-citizens!" said Kurz, again, "I know, very well, there must be poverty, but it should be of a reasonable kind; I mean, so that every one may be able to take care of himself, and not be a burden to other people. But is that possible, under the sad state of things in our city? Fellow-citizens! for some years, I have been striving against the unjust privileges which certain people have obtained, and in which they have been protected."
"Gossip," said Thiel, the joiner, to Jürendt, "you see, he is coming to the stadtbullen. There he must stop, baker Wredow is my brother-in-law."
He was right. "Fellow-citizens!" cried Kurz, "I mean the stadtbullen, these----"
"Down with him!" cried Thiel, the joiner.
"Yes, down with him!" echoed through the hall.
"We will hear nothing of bulls and cattle!" cried several voices.
"He grudges everybody the least profit!" cried Fritz Siebert.
"He wants it all for himself, even the stadtbullen!"
The president struck his bell emphatically, Kurz drew himself up in the stand, and made one more attempt: "Fellow-citizens!"
"Eh, what, fellow-citizens?" cried Thiel the joiner and Deichert the shoemaker, and pulled the unlucky tradesman down backwards, by the skirts of his coat, out of the cooling-vat, so that he gradually disappeared, and only his two hands trembled for a moment on the rim of the cask, as if he were drowning, and smothered sounds arose, "Stadtbullen--bullen--bullen--bullen?" Then all was silent, and Kurz fell half fainting into Bräsig's arms. Bräsig and the carpenter carried him out.
"I wish you would hold your confounded tongue!" said Uncle Bräsig, as he dragged Kurz into the next room, and got him into a corner, "do you want to be turned out again?" and the two old fellows planted themselves to the right and left of Kurz, and stood there like the two men in the "Wild Man's gulden," who keep watch over a springing lion, lest he should attack the people; only the two old boys went more sensibly to work than the wild men, and each had a pipe in his hand, instead of a club.
Meanwhile, Fritz Siebert was showing that poverty came from the turnpike toll; the turnpike tolls must be given up; and tailor Wimmersdorf made a very reasonable proposition; something must be done for the poor, and he could think of nothing better at the moment, than to write down the grand-duke's castle, at Rahnstadt, as "national property;" if that could be sold, a good bit of poverty might be remedied, this was carried, and seven men went off to the castle, with Grammelin's stable lantern, and a piece of chalk, to attend to the business.
"Krischan," said a voice behind Pomuchelskopp, "I like that. You can write,--you shall write, to-morrow evening, on the door of our master's house."
Pomuchelskopp looked round--the voice struck him as familiar--right into the face of one of his own Reform day-laborers, and the cursed rascal had the impudence to nod. He had very peculiar feelings; he had no idea what to do; whether to play his trump of master, or to try fraternity again. Something must be done, he must at least get the Reformverein on his side; and when Bräsig and Schultz returned to the hall, after having frightened Kurz into going home, the president was saying:
"Herr Pomuchelskopp has the floor."
Pomuchelskopp pressed slowly through the crowd, shaking Thiel's hand by the way, clapping Wimmersdorf on the shoulder, and speaking a few friendly words to the roguish shoemaker's apprentice. When he had squeezed himself into the cask, he began: "Gentlemen!"
Well, that always makes a great impression, when a blue dress-coat with bright buttons addresses a laborer's frock, and a mechanic's soiled coat, as "Gentlemen!" and a murmur went through the hall: "The man is right! He knows how to treat us!"
"Gentlemen!" said Pomuchelskopp, once more, when the murmurs ceased, "I am no orator, I am a simple farmer; I have heard better speakers here,"--and he bowed to the rector and Johann "Meinswegens," and tailor Wimmersdorf, Fritz Siebert also came in for a share, on account of the turnpike tolls,--"I have also heard worse,"--and he glanced at the door where Kurz had been carried out,--"but, gentlemen, I have not been drawn to you by thespeeches, so much as by thesentimentswhich I find here."
"Bravo, bravo!"
"Gentlemen! I am all for Liberty, all for Equality, all for Fraternity! I thank you for admitting me into this noble union." Here he drew a white handkerchief from his pocket, and laid it down before him. "Gentlemen, you have been talking about poverty. Many a silent hour have I spent in thinking upon this subject, through many a sleepless night have I wearied myself with the question how this evil could be averted,"--here he wiped the sweat from his face with the handkerchief, probably to show what a difficult matter ne had found it,--"that is to say, gentlemen, poverty in our small towns, for our day-laborers in the country know nothing of poverty."
"So?" cried a voice from the rear. "Krischan, it is time now, speak up!"
"Our day-laborers," continued Pomuchelskopp, not allowing himself to be disturbed, although he knew the voice well enough, "receive a free dwelling and garden, free pasturage for a cow, hay and straw for the same, wood and peat, and land for potatoes and flax, as much as they need; once a week, alternately, a bushel of barley, a bushel of rye, or a thaler, and all the chaff from the threshing-floor, and the housewives can earn five shillings a day. Now, I ask you, gentlemen, is any day-laborer in the city as well off? Ought a day-laborer to require any more?"
"No, no!" cried the city laborers.
"Gentlemen," said Stosse Rutschow, "I am a journeyman carpenter, and I never get more than nine groschen a day, the summer through, and one groschen of that goes to the master; I would rather be a day-laborer with Herr Pomuchelskopp."
"Donkey!" cried Schultz the carpenter, "have you worked at all, this whole spring? You have been loafing about!"
"Quiet! quiet!" cried the people.
"Gentlemen!" Pomuchelskopp went on, "this is the way our day-laborers are situated, and look at their treatment! Any day-laborer can give notice at any time, and seek another place; isn't that honest? isn't that satisfactory?"
"Krischan, speak, it is time!" again cried the voice in the rear.
"Gentlemen!" said Pomuchelskopp, drawing to a close, "I am heartily agreed with this noble union in its sentiments, and on this subject of poverty in the small towns, and you shall see--I am not a rich man, but what I can do shall be done. And now, gentlemen, I ask your assistance and protection; if city and country are true to each other there will be order, and we can arrange and settle everything in a peaceable manner, in this noble Reformverein. Long live the Rahnstadt Reformverein!"
"Hurrah! Hurrah! Long live the Reformverein!" echoed from every corner of the hall.
"Long live Herr Pomuchelskopp!" cried several voices, and Muchel, with a bow and a very friendly demeanor, went back to his place.
As he turned round, the speaker's stand was already occupied, and Zachary Bräsig's red face shone upon him, not like a peaceful sun or moon, but like a fiery meteor, which the Lord sends into the world as a sign of his righteous judgments.
"Fellow-citizens!" he cried, and made a grimace at his fellow-citizens, as if he had devoured two of them for breakfast that morning, and would now select a nice, fat one for his supper,--"Fellow-citizens! if the Herr Zamwell Pomuchelskopp had stayed quietly at home in Gurlitz, I would not have said a word; if he had not pretended to be friends with me, here in this very hall, and had not on this grand father-land platform," here he struck on the cooling-vat, "told such confounded lies, I would not say a word."
"You must not talk like that!" cried tailor Wimmersdorf, "that is all nonsense!"
"If tailor Wimmersdorf considers my speech nonsense," said Bräsig, "he can stop his ears, for all I care; he is much too stupid for me to notice; and now he can go and complain of me if he likes, I am Inspector Bräsig."
"You are right! Go on!" cried the people.
"Fellow-citizens, I should have said nothing at all, for I hold it for a very unsuitable thing, in an agriculturist or any other man, to stir up the laborers against their master; but when such a--" "Great Mogul," interposed Schultz,--"stands up on this altar of fraternity to deceive this Reform with lies, and glorify himself, and make false representations of the happiness of his laborers, then I will speak out. Fellow-citizens! my name is Inspector Zachary Bräsig."
"Bravo! bravo!"
"The Herr Zamwell Pomuchelskopp has told you that there is no poverty to be found in the country, he has regulated all the conditions of the day-laborer so wisely--bonus! as our honored Herr President Rein says; but, fellow-citizens, these day-laborers' conditions are something like roast beef and plum pudding; they are very nice, but we can't get them. For example, and merelypræter propter, take the houses! Close by Gurlitz is a sort of pig-pen, which passes for a house, and Willgans lives there,--is Willgans here?"
Willgans was not there.
"No matter. The roof has not been mended these three years, and the rain runs in overhead, and when there is a hard storm, the living-room is flooded, and the poor little children must wade round like frogs, while their father and mother are away at work, and when he complained about it Herr Pomuchelskopp said his name was Willgans (Wild-goose), and water was suitable for geese."
"Fie! fie! He ought not to say that!"
"And now about the free pasturage, and the hay for the cow!Whereis the pasturage? Half a mile from the village, on the out-field, where nothing grows but goat's-beard, and among the fir-trees, and can the women go back and forth three times a day to milk? Well they don't need to go so often as that, for eighteen laborers, out of the one and twenty, have lost their cows, from one complaint or another, and the three that are left are real dancing-masters."
"The fellow is a Great Mogul!" cried the carpenter, "out with him! out!"
"Quiet, quiet! Go on again!"
"Yes, fellow-citizens, I will go on. About the wood and peat! The peat is moss-peat from the bog, and crumbles apart, and gives no heat, and the wood is fir-brush, and scattered branches, which the children carry home on their shoulders; and then the potato and flax land! Where is it? In the out-fields, on the worn-out soil. How is it manured? Only by the birds, and when one looks at his few potatoes, at harvest, he clasps his hands above his head, and says, 'God preserve us! Shall the family and the pig live on those all winter!' But they do not live on them, they steal. They don't steal from Pomuchelskopp, for they would pay too dear for it, but they steal in the neighborhood, and a good friend of mine, Frau Nüssler, has given orders that, if the Gurlitz laborers are caught stealing potatoes there, they shall let them go, for they do it from necessity, and they are to be pitied!"
"Hurrah for Frau Nüssler!" said Johann Bank, and "Hurrah!" was repeated, again and again.
"And the flax!" continued Bräsig, "so long!"--measuring about a foot on his arm,--"so that even the Herr Notary Slusuhr himself, who is a particular friend of Herr Pomuchelskopp's, once made the bad joke in my presence, that the womenfolk at Gurlitz wear such short dresses, because the flax is too short to make long ones."
"He is an infamous donkey," cried the carpenter, "to be cracking his jokes at the poor! Out with him!"
"Fellow-citizens!" began Bräsig afresh, "I will only say, the house, the cow-pasture, and the wood and peat, and flax and potato land are, for the laborers in the country, their roast beef and plum pudding, they are very nice; but they can't get them, and therefore there is poverty in the country. But how does it come about in the city? Fellow-citizens, I will tell you, for I have lived here long enough, and have studied human nature: the great poverty in the city comes from the great destitution here!"
With that, he made a bow, and took his leave, and "Bravo!" resounded through the hall: "The man is right!" "Long live Inspector Bräsig!"
And then President Rein dismissed the assembly, saying that after such a speech no one could have anything more to say; and they all came up and congratulated Bräsig, and shook hands with him all at once, all except Pomuchelskopp and the city musician, David Berger; the one had stolen away quietly, and the other had run home to call together his fellow-musicians, and when Bräsig stepped out of Grammelin's door, there stood seven brass instruments before him, in a semi-circle, and opened fire on him at once, with "Hail to the chief!" and David Berger had his spectacles on, and was conducting with Grammelin's billiard cue, so that Uncle Bräsig must look out for his head. And the Gurlitz laborers stood around him, in a body, and weaver Ruhrdanz said, "Don't be afraid, Herr Inspector, you have stood by us, and we will stand by you." And as Bräsig was escorted by this festive procession, across the market, and through the streets of Rahnstadt, these poor, despised people followed him in trust and reverence, for it was the first time that the world had troubled itself about their distress and sorrow, and the feeling that one is not wholly forsaken works more good in the human soul than any amount of admonitions.
Before the Frau Pastorin's house, Bräsig made a short speech to his guard of honor: he regretted that he could not invite them in, but it would be unsuitable in a clerical house, for he lived with the Frau Pastorin; but he hoped they would all meet him at Grammelin's, to-morrow evening, over a bowl of punch. They received this with a "Hurrah!" and when Bräsig had gone to bed, after telling Karl the whole story, the Rahnstadt glee-club sang under window,
"Laurels wave where the warrior sleeps,"
"Laurels wave where the warrior sleeps,"
and on the road to Gurlitz went the day-laborers, in serious mood; and old weaver Ruhrdanz said, "Children, listen to me! We will get rid of him; but not by force, no! in all moderation, for what would the grand-duke and the Herr Inspector Bräsig say, if we should show our gratitude for his speech by making fools of ourselves?"
After church next day, for it was Sunday, Kurz came in to see Habermann and Bräsig:
"Good day! good day! I am angry; nothing but vexations the whole day! What? Such a set of people! Won't let a man speak at all! Eh, one might better keep swine than be a democrat! They listen to the stupidest speeches, and cry 'Bravo,' and give serenades, disturbing people out of their sleep, and when one tries to make an important subject clear to them, do they drum and pipe then? and they call that a Reformverein!"
"Listen to me, Herr Kurz," said Bräsig, stepping up to him, fully two inches taller than usual, "it is very unbecoming in you, to sneer at that serenade, for that serenade was given tome, andyouwould have been turned out again, if the well-meaning Herr Schultz and I had not taken you under our protection. What? What does the old proverb say? 'When it is the fashion, one rides to the city on a bull;' but it is not the fashion in the Reformverein, and if one persists in riding in and rampaging about on a bull, the people won't stand it, and they turn him out, with his bull, for the Reformverein is not designed for such purposes."
"It is all one to me!" cried Kurz, "other people rode in on donkeys, and were treated with great distinction."
"You are a rude fellow!" cried Uncle Bräsig, "you are an impertinent rascal! If this were not Karl Habermann's room, I would kick you down stairs, and you might carry your bones home in a bag."
"Hush, Bräsig, hush!" interposed Habermann, "and you, Kurz, ought to be ashamed of yourself, to come here stirring up strife and contention."
"I had strife and contention last evening; I have had strife and contention all day long. This morning, when I had hardly opened my eyes, my wife began with strife and contention; she is not willing I should go to the Reformverein."
"She is quite right, there," said Habermann, seriously, "you are not a fit person to go, for, with your hasty, inconsiderate behavior, you do nothing but mischief;" and leaving him he went over to Bräsig, who was running up and down the room, puffed up like an adder: "Bräsig, he couldn't have meant it so."
"It is no consequence to me, Karl, what such an uncouth, malicious, miserable beast thinks of me. Riding in on a donkey? Fie, it is nothing but the meanest envy."
"I did'nt meanyou!" cried Kurz, running up and down the other side of the room, "I meant my brother-in-law, Baldrian, and the dyer, and the other blockheads. And is'nt it enough to drive one crazy? First, the quarrel with my wife, about the Reformverein, then a quarrel with my shopman,--he slept till nine o'clock this morning, was out singing on the streets last night, and at the beer-house, till four o'clock; then a quarrel with the stable-boy and the horse-doctor,--my saddle-horse has got the influenza,--then another quarrel with my wife, she don't want me to have anything to do with farming."
"There she is right again," interrupted Habermann. "All your farming amounts to nothing, because you don't understand it."
"So! I don't understand it? Nothing but vexations! Afterwards the stupid servant maid, she put on a table-cloth for dinner that came down to the floor; well, we sit there, a customer rings, I am provoked with the shopman because he doesn't start up immediately, start up myself, catch the table-cloth between my feet, and pull off the soup-tureen, and the whole concern, on the floor. Do you see, then my wife comes, and holds me fast, and says, 'Kurz, go to bed, you are unlucky to-day;' and every time that I get angry, she says, 'Kurz, go to bed!' It is enough to drive one crazy."
"And your wife was right again," said Habermann, "if you had stayed in bed, you would not have come here to make trouble."
"So?" cried Kurz, "did you ever lie in bed all day, with sound limbs, merely because it was an unlucky day? I will never do it again, no matter how much my wife begs me. One worries himself to death! She took away my boots and my trousers, and I lay there and fretted, because I could not get up, if I wanted to."
Uncle Bräsig began to laugh heartily.
"Well," said Habermann, "then you came over here, and got vexed again."
"Eh, how?" said Kurz, "I did'nt mean that at all, I only came over to ask you two Herr Inspectors if you would go with me to my field, and see if it was ready for ploughing."
Through Habermann's persuasions the quarrel was made up, and the three farmers went to the field, Kurz making close calculations, and reeling off his agricultural phrases, while Bräsig said to himself, "Who is riding on the donkey now?"
"I have a piece of ground here," said Kurz, "measuring a hundred and fifty square rods, and I have bought ten cartloads of manure from Kränger the butcher, real, fat, slaughter-house manure; I am going to plant beets; I had it strewed yesterday; is'nt that enough, gentlemen? Look here!" and he turned out of the road into the field.
"Very badly strewed!" said Bräsig. "A properly manured field should look like a velvet cover," and he began to poke the lumps apart with his stick.
"Never mind," said Kurz, "something will grow, it is good slaughter-house manure, cost me ten thalers."
All at once he stood stock still, caught at the air with his hands, and looked wildly around him.
"Good heavens!" cried Bräsig, "what is the matter?"
"Thunder and lightening!" cried Kurz, "the devil is in it! This is not my field, this next one is mine, and that confounded rascal has gone and put my manure on another field! And I told him to do it! Ten thalers! And the carting! And the strewing! Isn't it enough to make one crazy?"
"Eh, Kurz, that is not so bad," said Habermann, "that can be settled, your neighbor will be good-natured, and pay for the manure."
"That is the very thing!" cried Kurz. "This is baker Wredow's field, whom I have such a quarrel with about the stadtbullen; he had better take care!"
"There's a farmer for you," said Bräsig very quietly, "carting his manure into other people's fields!"
"It is enough to drive one crazy!" cried Kurz, "but I will save what I can," and he ran to the boundary of the field, and began tossing the lumps of manure over into his field with his stick, and worked away, until he was out of breath with exercise and rage, and then he threw his stick across the field, and panted out the words: "I will have nothing more to do with it! Why didn't I stay in bed! When I get home, and get hold of that rascal of a boy,--children, I beg you, hold me fast, or something dreadful will happen!"
"Rely upon me," said Bräsig, "I will hold you," and he caught him by the coat-collar at once.
"But what was the stick to blame for?" said Habermann, going to pick it up. Something stuck fast to the stick, Kurz had thrust it through, with his working, and thrown it away with the stick; the old man was going to shake it off, but as he looked at it, he stood still. Bräsig had been occupied with Kurz, and had not paid attention to his old friend, and he now called.
"Come, Karl, we are going! There is nothing to be made of this business."
He got no answer, and as he looked at his friend, he saw him standing, with something black in his hand, which he regarded with fixed attention, not turning nor moving.
"Good heavens, Karl, what have you there?" cried Zachary Bräsig, going towards him. Still he got no answer, Habermann, pale as death, was looking at that which he held in his hand, and which made his features quiver with agitation.
"Karl, Karl! What have you found, what is the matter?"
And at last the words burst from Habermann's struggling breast: "That packet! This is that packet!" and he held out to Bräsig a piece of waxed cloth.
"What? What sort of a packet?"
"Oh, I have held it in my hand, I have seen it for years, waking and dreaming! See, here is the von Rambow coat of arms, here are the marks on the cloth. It was put together like that, it was of that size! It was put up so, with the two thousand thalers in gold! This is the packet, which Regel was sent to Rostock with."
AH this came out as disjointedly, anxiously and confusedly, as when one talks in a dream, and the old man seemed to be so overpowered by excitement that Bräsig sprang towards him, and held him, but he held the cloth fast, as if it had grown into his heart, and Bräsig raised himself, to look at it nearer,--Kurz came up also, without noticing any thing remarkable, for he was not yet over his vexation: "Well," he exclaimed, "now, tell me, isn't it enough to drive me crazy? There lies my manure, there lies my ten thalers, on baker Wredow's field."
"Thunder and lightning!" cried Bräsig, "do leave your confounded manure in peace! Your talk is as bad as the stuff itself. There is your cane,--we must go home. Come, Karl, recollect yourself."
And when Habermann had taken a few steps, the color returned to his face, and a restless agitation and a driving haste came over him, he began to ask after this thing and that; of whom Kurz had bought the manure, when it was loaded, how it was loaded, what sort of a man the butcher Kräuger was, and then he stood still, and folded the packet together, and looked at the creases in the cloth, and at the seal, while Kurz quite forgot his anger, and wondered what had came over the old inspector, that he should take so much interest in his manure and his ten thalers. At last Bräsig told him about the matter, but he made him promise with a fearful oath, that he would not repeat a word of it, to any one; "For," said he, "you are one of the people whose tongues run away with them."
And then they stood together in the street, and deliberated how the wrapper of the packet could have come into the butcher's yard, and Kurz, as well as Bräsig, was of the opinion, that it was impossible the butcher could have anything to do with the business,--he was too respectable a man.
"Yes," said Habermann, and the old energy and decision and judgment, which he had seemed to lose in his trouble and grief, had quite come back to him, "yes, but a neighbor might have thrown it over there. Does the butcher live alone in the house?"
He had tenants in the back part of the house, Kurz said, but he did not know who they were.
"I must go to the burgomeister," said Habermann, and as they came back into the town, he went to his house. Kurz would have gone with him, but Bräsig held him back: "We two have lost nothing." And as he said farewell to him, at his own door, he added, "You belied me to-day in the most shameful manner; I have forgiven you, however, the 'riding on a donkey;' but if you breathe a word about Karl Habermann's business, I will wring your neck for you,--you confounded old syrup-prince, you!"
Habermann found the burgomeister at home; he told him about his discovery and laid the waxed cloth together in the previous folds, while the burgomeister grew more and more attentive, and finally said:
"Yes, to be sure, to be sure! I had the packet in my hand, also, when I gave the messenger his pass; the examination, that followed immediately, fixed it clearly in my memory, and if I were called as a witness, I must testify that it is the same, or one exactly like it. But, my dear Herr Habermann, the trace is still too indistinct; for example, the butcher certainly can have nothing to do with the business, he is one of our best citizens; it is not to be thought of."
"But there are other people in the back of the house."
"That is true, yes! Do you know who lives there? Well, we can soon find out," and he touched the bell. The waiting-maid came in.
"Fika, who lives in the back part of the house with Kräuger the butcher?"
"Eh, Herr, widow Kählert lives there, and then Schmidt the weaver," said Fika.
"Schmidt? Schmidt? Is that the weaver Schmidt, who is divorced from his wife?"
"Yes, Herr, and people say he is going to be married again, to the widow Kählert."
"So? so? Do people say that? Well, you may go;" and the burgomeister walked up and down, thinking and thinking, and then stopped before Habermann, and said, "It is really a remarkable coincidence; that is the divorced husband of the woman, whom we took up once for examination; you know, she claimed to have found the Danish double louis-d'ors."
Habermann said nothing, fear and hope were struggling too powerfully in his breast.
The burgomeister touched the bell again; Fika came: "Fika, go round to butcher Kräuger's, and tell him I want him to come here, in a quarter of an hour."
Fika went; and the burgomeister said to Habermann, "Herr Inspector, these are very significant indications; yet it is possible we may come to a dead halt; I can give you very little encouragement. But even if we arrive at no certainty, what does it matter? No reasonable being can have any suspicion of you. I have been really troubled to see that you have taken such utterly groundless suspicions so much to heart. But I must ask you to go now; people will certainly think you are concerned in the matter. Say nothing about it, and take care that Kurz and Bräsig are silent also. Yes--and--yes, that will do! You can send Inspector Bräsig to me, to-morrow morning at nine o'clock."
Habermann went, and Kräuger the butcher came.
"Dear Herr Kräuger," said the burgomeister, "I sent for you, that you might give me information on a few points. The widow Kählert and the weaver Schmidt live with you?"
"Yes, Herr Burgomeister, they live in the back of my house."
"As I hear, weaver Schmidt is going to marry widow Kählert. Does the woman know that there are some legal hindrances in the way of Schmidt's contracting a second marriage?"
"Yes, Herr Burgomeister; I don't know about that last; I don't trouble myself about the people; but, you know, these women folks! if these is a courtship in the air, they are like the bees, and bring the news into the house,--well, Herr Burgomeister, you won't take it ill, mine is naturally no better than the rest; well, she came in lately, and said the business was so far settled that Kählertsch was quite determined about it, but the weaver wasn't ready yet. And Frau Kählert told Frau Bochert, she had cooked and washed for him over a year, and it was time he were making his preparations; but it was all the fault of that baggage his divorced wife, who came and teased the weaver to take her back again. If she should come again, however, she would trip her up, and the weaver might cook and wash for himself."
"The widow Kählert must be very foolish," said the burgomeister, "to want to marry that man. She has a little something, enough to live on; but he has nothing in the world but his loom; that came out in the evidence, at the divorce."
"Yes, it was sothen. But, you see, Herr Burgomeister, I don't trouble myself about him,--if he pays his rent, I have no further business with him, and he has always done that honestly; and he has rented, for this year past, a little room of mine, that opens into his, and my wife says she went in there once, with Frau Kählert, and it was very nicely fitted up, with a sofa, and pictures on the wall."
"He must have had a good deal to do then, and have earned a good deal."
"Eh, Herr Burgomeister, a weaver! and it is such a noisy business, they can tell, all over the neighborhood, when the old loom stands still, and there are a good many days, when I don't hear its music. No, he must have something laid up."
"Then he lives very comfortably?"
"Yes, indeed! He has his fresh meat every day, and I told my wife, 'You shall see,' I said, 'it is only because of the nice mutton and beef that Kählertsch wants to marry him.'"
"Well, Herr Kräuger, just tell me plainly,--I ask you in confidence,--do you think the man is really an honest man?"
"Yes, Herr Burgomeister, I think he is. Now in some things I am very observant, I have had some tenants who would run a splinter into their fingers, in the yard, and when they pulled it out, in their kitchen, it would be a four-foot log of my beechen timber, and when they went through the shop, a pound of beef would jump into their coat-pockets, and the apples from my trees were always falling at their feet. Well, it isn't so with him; I say to you, don't meddle with him!"
The burgomeister was an honorable man, and a man of the best intentions; but at this moment such good testimony in behalf of one of his fellow-men, was not agreeable to him; he would rather have heard that people thought the weaver a rascal. Some things are hard to explain; but so much is certain, there are dark abysses in human nature, and when such an abyss has opened in the office of the judge, it has swallowed up thousands of innocent men. "Judge, judge justly! God is thy master, and thou his servant!" is a fine old proverb, which my father taught me when I was a little boy, but the weakness of human nature does not always suffer us to act up to it, to say nothing of the openly wicked, who seek their advantage in injustice.
The butcher had gone, and the burgomeister walked up and down the room, thinking over the matter, and contriving how he could find out how the waxed cloth came into the butcher's yard. Two things urged him powerfully to this investigation, one was his deep compassion for Habermann's troubles, the other, his firm persuasion that this was the wrapper of the gold-packet which he had held in his own hand. But he knew, also, that he had not yet a firm clue, which he could follow; yet he was sure of so much, that the weaver's divorced wife still held intercourse with him.
Habermann, also, was walking up and down in his room, hastily, restlessly. Ah, how strongly he was impelled to share his hopes and his prospects with his child, and the Frau Pastorin! But unrest for both? And he had enough to do, to control his own.
Bräsig sat in a chair, turning his head back and forth as Habermann walked up and down the room, and looking at him; like Bauschan when Jochen Nüssler had his cap on.
"Karl," said he, finally, "I am very glad to see you are growing so active, and you shall see, it will have a good effect upon you. But, I tell you, you must have an advocate. Take the Herr Advocate Rein; he is a good fellow, who knows how to turn and twist, in spite of his length. You can't go through with it alone, Karl; but he can help you, and, if it is necessary, I can bring the matter before the Reformverein, and your fellow-citizens can help you to your rights."
"Bräsig, for mercy's sake! what are you thinking of? You might as well tell it to the town-crier! I am dreadfully afraid Kurz will let it out."
"Kurz? No, Karl, don't be afraid, he can't talk about it to-day, for I have been to him and scolded him till he can scarcely see or hear, and to-morrow you shall see he will have the croup, so that he cannot speak a word."
"Bräsig, I beg of you; Kurz have the croup?" and Habermann laughed in spite of his agitation, "what are you talking about?"
"Karl, you needn't laugh at me! See, his saddle-horse has the inflorentia,--the horse-doctor said so, and he ordered that the old mare should be separated from the other horses, on account of the infection, and there was Kurz running about the sick horse in his cotton-wadded dressing-gown, feeling her here, and feeling her there, and then he ran back to the sound ones, to see if they had caught it already, and so he has infected the sound ones, for the infectious matter would get into the cotton wool of the dressing-gown,--cotton wool is the best thing in the world to carry infection,--and, you shall see, he has caught it himself, and to-morrow he will have the croup. The glanders is catching, why shouldn't the inflorentia be?"
Habermann passed a very restless night; but although he had not closed an eye, he was full of energy next morning; a beam of hope had fallen into the darkness, and gilded his prospects; but he could not stay in the house, the four walls oppressed him, he must have room for his restlessness, and long before Bräsig went to the Rathhaus to keep his appointment with the burgomeister, Habermann was wandering along the quiet footpaths through the green spring fields. And what a lovely spring it was! It was just as if heaven were saying to earth, "Hope confidently!" and earth again to man, "Hope confidently!" and to the old inspector also, she cried, with her green springing leaves and bird-voices, "Hope confidently!"
Heaven did not keep her promise to earth, the next year was a year of want; earth did not keep her promise to man, the next year was a year of misery; would she keep her promise to the old man? He knew not, but he trusted the message. He walked on, and on, he came to Gurlitz, he went along the same pathway where he had walked with Franz, that Palm-Sunday morning, when his daughter was to be confirmed. He knew that it was on this day that love had first stirred in the young man's heart,--Franz had written him so, he often wrote to him,--and a great bitterness arose in him that the happiness, which had grown so silently and purely in two innocent hearts, should be disturbed and destroyed by the foolishness and injustice of another person, and be turned off, abruptly, into another path which led to Rexow, that he need not go through the Pumpelhagen garden.
A girl came towards him with a child on her arm, and as she came nearer she stood still, exclaiming:
"Herr Inspector! Herr Inspector! How long it is since I have seen you!"
"Good day, Fika," said Habermann, and looked at the child, "how goes it with you?"
"Ah, Herr, very badly; Krischan Däsel mixed himself up in that business against the Herr, that we might be able to get married, and the Herr has sent him away, and I should have gone too, but the gracious Frau would not permit it. Well, if you want to get down, run then!" she said to the child, who was struggling in her arms.
"I always have to take her out about this time," she added, "for the gracious Frau is busy about the housekeeping, and the little one frets after her."
Habermann looked at the child. She plucked flowers at the roadside, and coming up to him with "Da! man!" she put a marigold blossom into his hand, and through Habermann's heart shot the recollection of such a flower, which another child--his own child--had put into his hand years ago, and he lifted the child in his arms, and kissed her, and the child stroked this white hair: "Ei! ei!" and he let her down, and turned to go, saying, "Fika Degel, take her home, it will rain soon."
And as he went his way, the spring rain fell to the earth in gentle drops, and his heart shone beneath it, like the fresh grain. What had become of his hatred?
When Habermann reached Rexow, his sister sprang to meet him, as quickly as her stoutness would allow:
"Karl! God bless you! Karl! Have you come at last! And how bright you look! And so handsome! Dear brother, has anything happened? Has something good happened to you?"
"Yes, child, yes; I will tell you by and by. Where is Jochen?"
"Jochen? Dear heart, you may well ask. Where he is, no mortal knows; he comes and goes like a bird on the fence. Since the time when it was settled that Rudolph and Mining are to be married next week, on Friday,--you are coming to the wedding?--he has no rest, day nor night, and busies himself about the farming, and now that the spring seed is all planted and he has nothing in the world to do, he runs about the fields, and when he comes home, he makes us all miserable. It is just as if he would make up, in the eight days between now and the wedding, what he has neglected for five and twenty years."
"Oh, let him work! It will do him no harm."
"So I say, but Rudolph is vexed because he follows him round so."
"Well, that won't last long. Is everything quiet here?"
"Oh, yes, and if Jochen had not wanted to make that speech about the geese, we should have known nothing about the troubles, but at Gurlitz and Pumpelhagen it looks badly."
"At Pumpelhagen, too?"
"Oh, yes, yes! They say nothing about it; he doesn't speak, and she doesn't speak, but the whole region knows that it may break out, any day. He has so many debts, now the day-laborers demand their wages, and he has been letting them run up, and then they want you again for inspector."
"Oh, that last is all nonsense!"
"So I said. No, I told the gracious Frau, my brother Karl will never come to this place again."
"What?" asked Habermann, hastily, "have you been to see her?"
"Yes, indeed, Karl. Didn't Bräsig tell you we were going?"
"He said you were going, but I did not know that you had been there."
"Yes, Karl, it happened this way; Triddelsitz came here with his new-fashioned pistols, and said they would greet the day-laborers with them, and I said to Jochen we must go to those people. Well, they had affronted us, to be sure, and there was no need of our going; but, Karl, the times! If one will not stretch out his hand to help a neighbor in such times as these, I would, not give much for him! Well, we rode over there, but what Jochen said to the young Herr, of course no mortal knows. 'Jochen,' said I, 'what did he say to you?' 'Nothing at all,' said he. 'What did you talk about?' I asked. 'Eh, what should we talk about?' said he. 'What did he say to you at last?' said I. 'He said adieu,' said he, 'but, mother, I shall not go there again.'"
"Well, how did she receive you?" asked Habermann.
"Eh, Karl, I believe if she had allowed herself she would have fallen upon my neck and wept. She took me into her room, and looked so friendly and natural, and when I told her that being a neighbor and a friend, I had come to see if I could be useful to her in any way, she looked at me kindly and quietly, and said, 'Tell me, how is your brother?' and when I had told her you were pretty well,--thank God!--she asked after Louise, and when I had told her good news of her, she became quite cheerful, and began to tell me about her housekeeping; but it was not as when a couple of housewives, like me, sit down together to have a little sensible talk over their housekeeping; it was a little too quick for me; but one could see very well she understood it thoroughly. Dear heart, she may have need of it yet! See, Karl, I plucked up courage, and stood up and took her hand in both mine, and said she must not repulse me,--no one should throw away dirty water until he was sure of clean; she might be in trouble,--of course she had friends, but they might not be near at hand,--and then she must come to me, for, as her neighbor, I was the nearest to her, as the Frau Pastorin says, and whatever I could do should be done. Karl, the tears stood in her eyes, and she turned away, and pressed them back, and when she turned round to me again, her face was full of friendliness and sweetness, and she took me by the hand, and said I should have my reward, and she took me into another room, and lifted her little child in her arms, and reached her towards me, and the little thing must give me a kiss. What a dear sweet girl it is!"
"Yes, yes!" said Habermann, "I have seen her this morning. But did she make no complaint?"
"Not a word, Karl. She said nothing of him, and nothing of their troubles, and when we came away, we were as wise as before, at least I was; for Jochen told me nothing, if he had really heard anything from the young Herr."
"Well, sister, it is all the same. Every body knows that the young Herr is in great pecuniary embarrassment; Pomuchelskopp gave him notice for his money, and did not get it at St. Anthony's day, and has now sued him; Moses has given him notice for St. John's day, and will not get his money either, for in such times, and under such circumstances, he can raise nothing, and then his estate must be sold, and it will go very cheap, and Pomuchelskopp will buy it. In better times, and under the right sort of management, the estate would bring a good price. You will help the gracious Frau and so will I, I will gladly give up my little capital, if the young Herr will consent to a sensible management; but that would not go far. You must do something also; and I will talk seriously to Moses, and it will be a sin and a shame if we honest people cannot get the better of that old rascal, who muddied the water in the first place, that he might catch his carp the easier!"
"Yes, Karl, if he would manage sensibly, and have you for inspector again, then--"
"No, child," interposed Habermann, decidedly, "I shall never go there again. But there are plenty of skilful farmers in the country,--thank God!--and he must get such an one, and leave the management to him, we will make that a condition."
"Yes, Karl, that is all very well; but now we have the outfit for Mining,--Kurz might have done more about it, and for his only son, but he is always filling one's ears with complaints, and, Karl, it might make us trouble with Rudolph; and we must take care that we have something to live upon, in our old age, and then our money is all tied up in mortgages."
"Moses can arrange all that. You see, sister, you have promised the Frau you would help her, and I know you meant what you said; now is the time for you to help!"
"Yes, Karl, but Jochen! what will Jochen say?"
"Eh, Jochen! Jochen has done whatever you wanted for this five and twenty years, he will do so still."
"Karl, you are right; he must do so. I have always managed for his good, and would he set himself against me now? But he is always making trouble; it is very hard to control him," and Frau Nüssler sprang up from her chair, and struck her fist against the table, as if that were Jochen.
"My dear child," said Habermann, "you have brought about a great deal of good, in these long years; you will bring this about too. May God help you! and now, adieu!" and he gave his sister a kiss, and departed.
What a pleasant walk he had! His restlessness of yesterday and that morning were quite gone, such a sure hope had sprung up in him, and all that he saw, the blue sky and the green earth, harmonized with his mood, harmonized with the peace which had entered his heart. And as he arrived at home, and his daughter scolded him, and the Frau Pastorin wondered why he had not come home to dinner, which they had kept waiting for him, he looked so bright and cheerful, that Bräsig gazed at him in astonishment, and said to himself, "Karl must have found out some new indicium," for he had learned several new Latin phrases that morning. And he sat there, and made the most frightful faces at Habermann, until the old man finally understood them as signs that he should go out, and went with him up-stairs to his room.
"Bräsig," cried Habermann, in some excitement, "do you know anything about the business? Has anything come out?"
"Karl," said Bräsig, walking up and down with his long pipe, and tugging at a high shirt-collar, which sat very uncomfortably, as he did not usually wear one, "Karl, don't you see anything unusual about me?"
"Yes, Bräsig," said Habermann, "your shirt-collar, and it seems to scratch you dreadfully."
"That is nothing. Higher up!"
"Eh, then I don't know."
"Karl," said Bräsig, standing before him, "so as you see me here, I am appointed assessor at the criminal court, and get, by the hour's sitting, eight shillings, Prussian currency."
"Oh, leave that alone! But tell me, is there any prospect that anything can come of the matter?"
Bräsig looked his friend right in the eye, shook his head a little, and said; "Karl, I dare not tell you anything, and I will not, the Herr Burgomeister has expressly forbidden me to say anything here in town, and especially to you, for the Herr Burgomeister says it will only be a useless torment for you, and we must have more indiciums, for he can do nothing without indiciums, and these confounded things can only be obtained by the greatest secrecy, says the Herr Burgomeister, and, if the whole city knows it, it would only give opportunity for all sorts of confusions among the rascals. But so much I can tell you, they have lied already, and they will keep on lying, till they fix themselves in a trap."
There was a knock at the door; it was the letter-carrier, bringing Habermann a letter: "From Paris," he said, and went away.
"Lord preserve us, Karl! You have very distinguished acquaintances! Who the devil can it be? From Paris!"
"It is from Franz," said Habermann, and his hand trembled, as he hastily broke the seal. Franz had often written to him, and every time he had been in doubt whether to mention the correspondence to his child or not,--until now, he had said nothing to her about it. He read; the letter was full of friendship, and the old attachment; every word expressed the recollection of old times; but not a single one referred to his love. At the close, he said that he should remain in Paris until St. John's day, and then return home. This last Habermann told Bräsig, as he put the letter in his pocket.
Bräsig was walking back and forth meanwhile, thinking, and, if Habermann had not been occupied with his letter, he must have heard what he was saying to himself.