"That will certainly do me good," said the woman.
"And there shall be no lack of some candy and white wheaten rolls, for your little ones at home."
"I think I can taste it already," answered the woman, and she turned her eyes heavenwards.
"Perhaps a pretty kerchief, or the remnant of a bolt of extra fine silk, or a costly ribbon or two for your skirts, or enough for an apron I suppose will be found, if we rummage in my drawers and trunks together sometime when we are talking things over."
The woman turned completely on her heels and shook her skirts with a jubilant yodel.
"And in case your husband could start in the cattle dealing way, and needed a bit of capital for it, you would know where to apply, would you not? My dear Sali will always be glad to invest some of his superfluous money in such a manner. And I myself might add a few pennies from my savings to help out a good and intimate gossip, you may be certain."
By this time the last faint doubts had vanished. The woman wrung her uncouth hands, and said, with a great deal of sentiment: "That's what I have always been saying, you are a square and honest and beautiful girl! May the Lord always be good to you and reward you for what you are going to do for me!"
"But on my part, I must insist that you, too, treat me well."
"Surely you have a right to expect that," said the woman.
"And that you at all times offer me first all your produce, be it fruit or potatoes, or vegetables, and to do this before you take them to the public market, so that I may always be sure of having a real peasant woman on hand, one upon whom I may rely. Whatever anybody else is willing to pay you for your produce, I will also be willing to give. You know me. Why, there is nothing nicer than a wealthy city lady, one who sits within town walls and cannot know prices and conditions there, and yet needs so many things in her household, and an honest and well-posted woman from the country, experienced in all that concerns her, who are bound together by durable friendship and a community of interests. The city lady profits from it at all sorts of occasions, as for example at weddings and baptisms, at seasons of illness or crop failure, at holidays and famine time, or inundations, from which the Lord preserve us!"
"From which the Lord preserve us!" repeated the woman solemnly, sobbing and wiping her wet face on her ample apron. "But what a sensible and well-informed little wife you'll make, to be sure! Without doubt you will live as happily as a mouse in the cheese, or there is no justice in this world. Handsome, clean, smart and wise, fit for and willing to tackle all work at any time. None is as good-looking and as fine as thou art, no, not in the whole village, and even some distance further away. And who has got you for wife can congratulate himself; he is bound to be in paradise, or he is a scoundrel, and he will have me to deal with. Listen, Sali, do not fail to be nice to Vreni, or you will hear a word from me, you lucky devil, to break such a rose without thorns as this one here!"
"For to-day, my dear woman," concluded Vreni, "take this bundle along, as we agreed yesterday, and keep it till I send for it. But it may be that I myself come for it, in my own carriage, and get it, if you have no objection. A drink of milk you will not refuse me in that case, and a nice cake, such as perhaps an almond tart, I shall probably bring along myself."
"You blessed child, give it here, your bundle," the peasant woman quavered, still completely under the influence of Vreni's eloquence.
Vreni therefore deposited on top of the bedding which the woman had already tied up, a huge bag containing all the girl's belongings, so that the stout-limbed woman was bearing a perfect tower of shaking and trembling baggage on her head.
"It is almost too much for me to carry at once," she complained. "Could I not come again and divide the load in halves?" she wanted to know.
"No, no," answered Vreni, "we must leave here at once, for we have to visit a whole number of wealthy relatives, and some of these are far away, the kind, you know, who have now recognized us since we have become rich ourselves. You know how the world wags."
"Yes, indeed," said the woman, "I do know, and so God keep you, and think of me now and then in your glorious new state."
Then the peasant woman trundled off with her monstrously high tower of bundles, preserving its equilibrium by skillfully balancing the weight, and behind her trudged her boy, who stood up in the center of Vreni's gaily painted bedstead, his hard head braced against the baldaquin of it in which the eye beheld stars and suns in a firmament of multicolored muslin, and like another Samson, grasping with his red fists the two prettily carved slender pillars in front which supported the whole. As Vreni, leaning against Sali, watched the procession meandering down between the gardens of the nearer houses, and the aforesaid little temple forming part of her whilom bedstead, she remarked: "That would still make a fine little arbor or garden pavilion if placed in the midst of a sunny garden, with a small table and a bench inside, and quickly growing vines planted around. Eh, Sali, wouldn't you like to sit there with me in the shade?"
"Why, yes, Vreni," said he, smiling, "especially if the vines once had grown to a size."
"But why not go now?" continued she. "Nothing more is holding us here."
"True," he assented. "Come, then, and lock up the house. But to whom will you deliver up the key?"
Vreni looked around. "Here to this halberd let us hang it. For more than a century it has been in our house, as I've often heard father say. Now it stands at the door as the last sentinel."
So they hung the rusty key of the housedoor to one of the rustier curves of the stout weapon, which was fairly overgrown with bean vines, and sallied forth.
But after all Vreni grew faint, and Sali had to support her the first score steps, the parting with the place where her cradle had stood making her sad. But she did not look back.
"Where are we bound for first?" she wanted to know.
"Let us make a regular excursion across the country," said Sali, "and stop at a spot where we shall be comfortable all day long. And don't let us hurry. Towards evening we shall easily be able to find a dance going on."
"Good," answered Vreni. "Thus we shall be together the whole day, and go where we like. But above all, I feel quite faint. Let us stop in the next village and get some coffee."
"Of course," said the young man. "But let us first get away from here."
Soon they were in the open, fields of ripe, waving corn or else of fresh stubble around them, and went along, quietly and full of deep contentment, close to each other, breathing the pure air as though freed from prison walls. It was a delicious Sunday morning in September. There was not a cloud to be seen in the sky of deep azure, and in the distance the hills and woods were enwrapped in a delicate haze, so that the whole landscape looked more solemn and mysterious. From everywhere the tolling of the church bells was heard, the harmonious deep tones of a big swinging bell belonging to a wealthy congregation, or the talkative two small bells of a poor village that made fast time to create any impression at all. The lovers forgot completely as to what was to become of them at the end of this rare day, forgot the disturbing uncertainties of their young lives, and gave themselves up completely to the intoxicating delights of the moment, sank their very souls in a calm joy that knew no words and no fears. Neatly clothed, free to come or go, like two happy ones who before God and men belong to each other by all rights, they went forth into the still Sunday country side. Each slight sound or call, reverberating and finally losing itself in the general silence, shook their hearts as though the strings of a harp had been touched by divine fingers. For Love is a musical instrument which makes resound the farthest and the most indifferent subjects and changes them into a music all its own.
Though both were hungry and faint, the half hour's walk to the next village seemed to them but a step, and they entered slowly the little inn that stood at the entrance to the place.
Sali ordered a substantial and appetizing breakfast, and while it was being prepared they observed, quiet as two mice, the interior of this homely place of entertainment, everything in it being scrupulously clean and orderly, from the walls and tables and napkins to the hearth and floor. The guest room itself was large and airy, and the window panes glittered in the furtive rays of the sun. The host of the inn was at the same time a baker, and his last baking, just out of the oven, spread a delicious odor through the whole house. Stacks of fresh loaves were carried past them in clean baskets, since after church service the members of the congregation were in the habit of getting here their white bread or to drink their noon shoppen. The hostess, a rather handsome and neat woman, dressed in their Sunday finery all her little brood of children, leisurely and pleasantly, and as she was done with one more of the little ones, the latter, proud and glad, would come running to Vreni, showing her all their finery, and innocently boasting and bragging of their belongings and of all else they held precious.
When at last the fragrant coffee was brought and served for them, together with other good things, at a convenient table, the two young people sat down somewhat embarrassed, just as if they had been invited as honored guests to do so. But they got over this mood, and whispered to each other modestly but happily, feeling the joy of each other's presence. And oh, how Vreni enjoyed her breakfast, the strong coffee, the cream, the fresh rolls still warm from the oven, the rich butter and the honey, the omelet, and all the other splendid things dished up for them. Delicious it all tasted, not only because she had been really hungry, but because she could look all the while at Sali, and she ate and ate, as if she had been fasting for a whole year.
With that she also took pleasure in the pretty service, the fine cups and saucers and dishes, the dainty silver spoons, and the snowy linen. For the hostess seemed to have made up her mind about these two, and she evidently regarded them as young people of good family, who were to be waited upon in proper style, and several times she came and sat down by them, chatting most agreeably, and both Sali and Vreni answered her sensibly, whereat the woman became still more affable. And Vreni felt the wholesome influence of all this so strongly, and a sense of snug comfort coursed so pleasantly through her veins that she in her mind found it hard to choose between the delights of wandering about in the woods and fields, hand in hand with her lover, or remaining for some time longer here in this inn, in this haven of rest and creature comfort, honored and respected and dreaming herself into the illusion of owning such a nice home as this herself.
But Sali himself rendered the choice easier, for in a perfectly proper and rather husbandlike manner he urged departure, just as though they had duties to fulfil elsewhere. Both host and hostess saw the young couple to the door, and bade them good-by in the most orthodox and well-meaning way, and Vreni, too, showed her manners and reciprocated their courtesy like one to the manner born, then following Sali in most decent and moral style. But even after reaching the open country once more and entering an oak forest a couple of miles long, both of them were still under the influence of the spell, and they went along in a dreamy mood, just as though they both did not come from homes destroyed and filled with hatred and discord, but from happy and harmonious homes, expecting from life the near fulfilment of all their rosy hopes.
Vreni bent her pretty head down on her flower-bedecked bosom, deep in thought, and went along the smooth, damp woodpath with hands carefully held along her sides, while Sali stepped along elastic and upright, quick and thoughtful, his eyes fastened to the oak trunks ahead of him, like a well-to-do peasant reflecting on the problem which of these trees it would best pay to cut down and which to leave. But at last they awoke from these vain dreams, glanced at each other and discovered that they were still maintaining the attitude with which they had left the inn. Then they both blushed and their heads drooped in melancholy fashion. Youth, however, soon reasserted itself. The woods were green, the sky overhead faultlessly blue, and they were alone by themselves in the world, and thus they soon drifted back into that train of thought. But they did not long remain by themselves, since this attractive forest road began to be alive with groups and couples out for a bracing walk in the cool shade, most of them returning from service in church, and nearly all of these were singing gay worldly tunes, trifling and joking with each other. For in these parts it so happens that the rustics have their customary walks and promenades as well as the city dwellers, to which they resort at leisure, only with this great difference that their pleasure grounds cost nothing to maintain and that these are finer in every way, since Nature alone has made them. Not alone do they stroll about on Sundays through fields and meadows and woods with a peculiar sense of freedom and recreation, taking stock of their ripening crops and the prospects of the harvest to come, but they also choose with unerring taste excursions along the edge of forest or meadow, hill or dale, sit down for a brief rest on the summit of a height, whence they enjoy a fine view, or sing in chorus at another suitable spot, and certainly obtain fully as much, if not more, pleasure out of all this as town folk do. And since they do all this, not as labor but diversion, one must conclude that these rustics, despite of what has often been claimed to the contrary, are lovers of nature, aside from the strictly utilitarian view of it. And always they break off something green and living, young and old, even weak and decrepit women, when they revisit the scenes of long ago, and the same spirit is seen in the habit that these country people have, including sedate men of business, of cutting for themselves a slender rod of hazel, or a snappy cane, whenever they walk through woods or forest, and these they will peel all but a small bunch of green leaves at the point. Such rods or twigs they will bear as though it were a sceptre, and when they enter an office or public place they will put them in a corner of the room, and never forget to get them again, even after the most serious and important matters have been discussed, and to take them along with them home. And it is then only the privilege of the youngest of their boys to seize it, break it, play with it, in fine, destroy it.
When Sali and Vreni noticed these many couples out for a holiday stroll, they laughed to themselves, and rejoiced that they, too, were such a happy pair; they lost themselves on side paths that led away from every noise, and there they felt protected by the green solitude. They remained where they liked, went on or rested again for a spell, and in unison with the sky overhead which was cloudless, no carking care came to disturb their serenity. This state of perfect, unalloyed bliss lasted for them for hours, and they for the time forgot wholly whence they came and whither they were going, and behaved with such a degree of decorum that Vreni's little posy actually remained as fresh and intact as it had been early in the morning, and her plain Sunday dress showed neither crease nor stain. As to Sali, he behaved all this time not like a youthful rustic of less than twenty, nor like the son of a broken-down tavern keeper, but rather like a youth a couple of years younger and quite innocent, withal of the best education. It was almost comical to observe his conduct towards his merry Vreni, looking at her with a touching mixture of tenderness, respect and care. For these two lovers, so unsophisticated and so entirely without guile, somehow understood how to run in the course of this one day of perfect joy vouchsafed them through all the gamut of love, and to make up not alone for the earlier and more poetic stages of it but also to taste its bitter and ultimate end with its passionate sacrifice of life itself.
Thus they thoroughly tired themselves running about part of the day, and hunger had come a second time that day when, from the crest of a shady mountain, they at last perceived, far down at their feet, a village of some size lying there in the glow of the westering sun. Rapidly they made the descent, and entered the village just as decorously as they had done the other earlier in the day. Nobody was about that knew them even by sight, for Vreni particularly had scarcely at all mingled with people during the last few years, nor had she been off on visits to other villages. Therefore they presented entirely the appearance of a decent young couple out on an errand of importance.
They went to the best inn of the place, and there Sali at once ordered a good and substantial meal. A table was specially reserved for them, and everything needful was there laid out and they sat down again demurely in the corner and eyed the trappings and furniture of the handsome room, with its wainscoted walls of polished walnut, the well-appointed sideboard of the same wood, and the filmy window curtains of white lace. The hostess stepped up to them in a sociable manner, and set a vase full of fresh flowers on the table.
"Until the soup is ready," she said pleasantly, "you may like to feast your eyes on these flowers from our garden. From all appearance, if you don't mind my curiosity, you are a young couple on their way to town to get married to-morrow?"
Vreni blushed furiously, and did not dare raise her head. Nor did Sali say anything in reply, and the hostess continued: "Well, of course, you are both still very young. But young love, long life, as the saying is, and at least you are both good-looking enough and need not hide yourselves from people. If you will but work and strive together like sensible folk, you may succeed in life before you know it, for youth is a good thing, and so are diligence and faith in one another. But that, of course, is necessary, for there will come also days you will not like, many days, many days. But after all, life is pleasant enough, if one but understands how to make a proper use of it. And don't mind my chatter, you young people, but it does me good to look at you two, so handsome and young."
Just then the waitress brought in the soup, and since she had overheard the concluding phrases, and would herself have liked to get married, she regarded Vreni with envious eyes, for she begrudged her what she assumed was so soon in store for this young girl. She retired precipitately into the adjoining room, and there she let her tongue go clacking. To the hostess who was busy there with some household task, she said, so loud as to be distinctly heard by the young people: "Yes, these are indeed the right kind of people to go to town and hurry up marrying, without a penny, without friends, without dowry, and with nothing in view but misery and beggary! What in the world is to become of such people if the girl is still so young that she does not even know how to put on her frock or jacket, nor how to cook a plate of soup! Oh, what fools! But I feel sorry for the young fellow, such a good-looking fellow he is, and then to get a little ignorant doll like that!"
"Sh-sh--will you keep your mouth shut, you evil-mouthed slut," broke in the indignant hostess. "Don't you dare say anything against them. I am pretty sure that is a deserving young couple, and I will not hear them wronged. Probably they are from the mountains where the factories are, and while they are not dressed richly they look neat and cleanly, and if only they are fond of each other and not afraid of work, they will get along better than you with your bitter tongue. And that I will tell you--you'll have to wait a long while before anybody will take you, unless you change considerably, you vinegary old thing!"
Thus it was that Vreni tasted all the delights of a bride on her wedding trip: the well-meaning conversation of an experienced and sensible woman, the jealousy of a wicked and man-crazy person, one who from anger at the bride praises and sympathizes with the lover, and an appetizing meal at the side of this same lover. She glowed in the face like a carnation, her heart beat like a trip hammer, but she ate and drank nevertheless with a perfectly normal appetite, and was all the more amiable with the waitress who served them, but could not help on such occasions looking tenderly at Sali, and whispering to him, so that he also began to feel rather amorous. However, they sat a long time over their meal, delaying its end, as though they were both unwilling to destroy the lovely deception. The hostess came and brought them for dessert all sorts of sweet cakes and other dainties, and Sali ordered rarer and more fiery wine, so that the choice liquor ran through Vreni's veins like a flame, albeit she was cautious and sipped it but sparingly and kept up the semblance of a chaste and prudent young bride. Half of this was natural cunning on her part; but as for the other half, she felt indeed as if the rôle were reality, and what with anxiety and what with ardent love for Sali she thought her little heart would burst, so that the walls seemed to her too narrow, and she begged him to go. And they went off. It was now as if they were afraid to turn aside from the main road and into side paths, where they would be by themselves, for they continued on the highway, right through the throng of pleasure seekers, not looking to right or left. But when they had left the village behind them and were on their way towards the next, where kermess was being celebrated, Vreni linked her arm in his and whispered: "Sali, why not belong altogether one to the other and be happy!"
And Sali answered, fastening his dreamy eyes upon the sun-flooded valley below where the meadows showed like a purple carpet of wildflowers, "Ah, why not?"
And they instantly stopped in the road, and wanted to kiss each other. But suddenly a group of passers-by broke out of the near woods, and then they felt shy and desisted. On they went towards the big village in which the bustle of kermess was already noticeable from afar. The lanes were crowded, and before the most considerable tavern of the place a multitude of noisy, shouting people were assembled. From inside the tavern the strains of a lively, gay tune were heard. For the young villagers had begun dancing shortly after the noon hour, and on an open square in front of the tavern a market had been established where all sorts of sweets were for sale, and in another couple of booths could be seen flimsy bits of finery, ornaments, silk kerchiefs and the like, and around these were to be seen children and some others who for the moment were content to be mere observers.
Sali and Vreni also stepped up to these booths, and they let their eyes travel over all these things. For both had instantly put their hands in their pockets and each wanted to present the other with a little gift, since that was the first and only time they had been together at a fair. Sali, therefore, bought a big house of gingerbread, the walls of which were calsomined with a mixture of butter and melted sugar, and on the green roof of which were perching snow-white pigeons, while from the chimney a small cupid was peeping forth clad as a chimney sweep. At the open windows of this wonderful house plump-cheeked persons with diminutive red mouths were embracing each other most affectionately, the kissing process being represented by the gingerbread artist by a sort of double mouth, or twins, one melting into the other. Black points meant eyes, and on the pinky-red housedoor there could be read the following touching stanzas:
Enter my house, beloved,Yet do not thou forgetThat all the coin acceptedIs kisses sweet, you bet.His sweetheart said: "Oh, dear one,This threat does not deter!My love for thee is greaterThan any kind of fare."And come to think it over,'Twas kisses I did seek."Well, then, step in, my lady,And let thy lips now speak.
Enter my house, beloved,Yet do not thou forgetThat all the coin acceptedIs kisses sweet, you bet.
His sweetheart said: "Oh, dear one,This threat does not deter!My love for thee is greaterThan any kind of fare.
"And come to think it over,'Twas kisses I did seek."Well, then, step in, my lady,And let thy lips now speak.
A gentleman in a blue frock coat and a lady with an expansive bosom thus complimented each other by these rhymes into the house; both were painted to right and left of the wall. Vreni on her part presented Sali with a gingerbread heart, on which on either side these verses were pasted:
A sweet, sweet almond pierces my heart, as you see,But sweeter far than almonds is my love for thee.When thou my heart hast eaten,Oh, let me not disguiseThat sooner than my love can breakWill break my nutbrown eyes.
A sweet, sweet almond pierces my heart, as you see,But sweeter far than almonds is my love for thee.
When thou my heart hast eaten,Oh, let me not disguiseThat sooner than my love can breakWill break my nutbrown eyes.
Both of them eagerly read these verses, and never had rhymes, never had any kind of poetry, been more deeply felt and appreciated than were these gingerbread stanzas. They could not help fancying that they had been specially written for them, for they fitted so marvelously their requirements.
"Ah, you give me a house," sighed Vreni. "But I have first made thee a gift of one myself, and of the real one. For our hearts are now our sole dwellings, and within them we live, and we carry our houses about with us wherever we may go, just like the snail. Other abode we have none left now."
"But then we are snails really, of which each carries the house of the other," replied Sali.
"Then we must never leave each other, for fear that we lose the other's house," answered Vreni.
They did not notice that they themselves were perpetrating the same species of humor as was spread out on the printed pasters of the gingerbread literature. So they continued to study the latter with deep interest. The most pathetic sentiments, both agreed, were found on the heartshaped cakes, whereof there was a great choice, both plain and ornamental, small and large. All the verses they read seemed to them wonderfully apt and appropriate to the occasion. When Vreni read on a gilt heart which like a lyre bore strings:
My heart is like a fiddlestring,Touch gently it and it will sing,
My heart is like a fiddlestring,Touch gently it and it will sing,
she could not refrain from remarking: "How true that is! Why, I can hear my own heart making music!"
An image of Napoleon in gingerbread was also there, and even this, instead of speaking in heroic measure, symbolized a love-smitten swain, for it declared in wretched rhyme:
Terrific was Napoleon's might,His sword of steel, his heart was light;My love is sweet like any rose,Yet is she faithful, goodness knows.
Terrific was Napoleon's might,His sword of steel, his heart was light;My love is sweet like any rose,Yet is she faithful, goodness knows.
But while both seemed busy sounding all the depths of these appeals to the muses, they secretly made a purchase. Sali bought for Vreni a small gift ring, with a stone of green glass, and Vreni a ring fashioned out of chamois horn, in which a gold forget-me-not was cleverly inlaid. Probably both were moved with the same idea, that of a farewell gift.
However, while they thus were entirely engrossed with these things they had not remarked that a wide ring was forming gradually around them made up of people who watched them closely and curiously. For as quite a number of lads and lasses from their own village had come to the kermess, they had been recognized, and these all now stood at some little distance away from them, regarding with astonishment this neatly dressed couple that in their intense preoccupation had eyes for nothing else in the world.
"Just look," the murmuring went round; "why, that is Vreni Marti and Sali from town. They surely have met and made up. And what tenderness, what friendship for one another! Only notice!"
The amazement of these onlookers was strangely mingled of pity with the ill-fortune of the young couple, of disdain for the wickedness and poverty of their parents, and of envy for the happiness and deep affection of these two. For it struck these coarse materialistic rustics that the couple were fond of each other in a manner most unusual in their own circles, excited to an uncommon degree and so taken up with one another and indifferent to all else, as to make them almost appear to belong to a more aristocratic sphere, so that altogether they seemed singular and strange to these gross villagers.
When therefore Sali and Vreni finally awoke from their dreams and threw a glance around, they saw nothing but staring faces. Nobody greeted them; and they themselves knew not whether to salute anyone of these former acquaintances, whose show of unfriendliness was, just the same, not so much design as astonishment. Vreni became afraid and blushed from sheer embarrassment, but Sali took her hand and led her away. And the poor girl followed him willingly, bearing in her hand the huge gingerbread cottage, although the trumpets and horns from inside the inn sounded so invitingly, and although she was most anxious and eager to dance.
"We cannot dance here," said Sali, when they had been going some little distance aside, "for there would not be any amusement in it under the circumstances."
"You are right," Vreni said sadly, "and I really think now we had better drop the whole idea and I will try and find a place for me to stay overnight."
"No," Sali cried, "you must have a chance to dance for once. For that, too, I brought you the shoes. Let us go where the poor folks are having a good time, since we, too, belong to them. They will not look down on us. At every kermess here there is also dancing at the Paradise Garden, since it belongs to this parish, and we are going there, and you can, if it comes to the worst, also find a bed to sleep there."
Vreni shuddered at the thought of having to sleep for the first time of her young life in a place where nobody knew her. But she followed without a murmur where Sali led her. Was he not everything in the world to her now? The so-called Paradise Garden was a house of entertainment situated in a beautiful spot, lying all by itself at the side of a mountain from which one had a view far over the whole country. But on holidays like this only the poorer classes, the children of small farmers and of day laborers, even vagrants, used to resort to it. A hundred years before a wealthy man of queer habits had built it as a summer villa for himself, and nobody had succeeded him as tenant, and since the house could not be used for anything else, the whole place after a while began to decay, and so finally it got into the hands of an innkeeper who managed it in his own peculiar way.
The name alone and the style of architecture had remained. The house itself consisted of but one story, and on top of that an open loggia had been erected, the roof of which was borne on the four corners by statues of sandstone. These were meant for the four archangels and were wholly defaced. At the edge of the roof could be seen all about small angels carved of the same material and all of them playing some musical instrument, the angels themselves showing monstrous heads and big paunches, fiddling, touching the triangle, blowing the flute, striking the cymbal or the tambourine; these instruments had originally been gilt. The ceiling inside and the low sidewalls, as well as all the rest of the house were still covered with rather dingy fresco paintings, and these represented dancing and singing saints. But all of it had suffered from the weather and the rain, and was now as indistinct and chaotic as a dream itself. And besides, all over the walls clambered grapevines, and at this time of year purplish ripening grapes peeped forth from between the foliage. All about the house itself there stood chestnut trees, and gnarled big rosebushes, growing wildly after a fashion of their own, just as lilac bushes would grow elsewhere.
The loggia served as dance hall, and as Vreni and Sali came in sight of the building they could notice the dancing couples turning around and around under the open roof, and outside, under the trees, drinking, shouting and noisy men and women were disporting themselves. It was a merry throng.
Vreni, who was carrying in her hand, demurely and almost piously, her wonderful gingerbread palace, resembled one of those ancient and sainted church patronesses sometimes seen in missals, with a model of the cathedral or other devout foundation displayed which would earn her the Church's benediction. But as soon as she heard the wild music that came down in a tumbling stream from the loggia, the poor thing forgot her grief. Suddenly all alive she demanded rapturously that Sali should dance with her. They pushed their way through all these people that were crowding the environs of the house and the lower floor, these being mostly ragged people from Seldwyla, with some who had been making a cheap excursion into the country, and all sorts of homeless vagrants. Then they ascended the stairs and at once after arriving on top they seized each other and were whirling away in a lively waltz. Not an eye did they give to their surroundings until the music came to a temporary halt. Then they stopped and turned around. Vreni had crushed her gingerbread house, and was just going to shed a few tears on that account when she noticed the black fiddler, and now felt a veritable terror.
He was seated near them, upon a bench which itself stood upon a big table, and he looked just as black and tawny as ever. But to-day he wore a bunch of green holly and pine in his funny little hat, and at his feet there stood a big bottle of claret and a tumbler, and he did not in the least touch either of these with his feet, although he was forever kicking up his legs to keep the tune while fiddling. Next to him sat a handsome young man with a French horn, but the young man looked melancholy, and a hunchback there also was, standing next a bass viol. Sali also had a fright in seeing the black fiddler, but the latter greeted them both in the friendliest manner and called out to them: "You see I knew that some day I should play to your dancing, just as I said when I last met you. And now, you darlings, I trust you'll have a good time, and take a drink with me."
He offered the full glass to Sali, who accepted it, emptied it and thanked the fiddler. And when he saw that Vreni was badly scared at seeing him, he did his best to reassure her, and jested with her in a rather nice way, until he had made her laugh. Thereupon Vreni recovered her courage, and both of them felt rather glad that they had an acquaintance there and were in a certain sense standing under the special protection of the black fellow. Then they danced steadily, forgetting themselves and the whole world in the constant twirling, singing, shouting and general noise, a noise which rolled down the hill and over the whole landscape which gradually began to be shrouded in a silvery autumn haze. They danced until twilight, when most of the merry guests disappeared, unsteady on their feet and shouting at the top of their voices. Those still remaining were the vagrants and stragglers, houseless and strongly inclined to turn night into day. Amongst these there were some who seemed on very friendly terms with the black fiddler and who for the most part looked outlandish because of oddities of costume. There was, for instance, a young man in a green corduroy jacket and a tattered straw hat, who wore around the crown of the latter a wreath of wild scarlet berries. He again had with him a savage sort of female who wore a skirt of cherry-red chintz and had a hoop made of young grapevine tied around her temples, so that at each side of her face hung a bunch of grapes. This couple was the jolliest of all, to be met with everywhere, and was dancing and singing without a stop. Then there was a slender, graceful girl there, wearing a thin silk dress and a white cloth on her head, the ends of which fell on her shoulders. The cloth had evidently once been a napkin or towel. But below this doubtful cloth there glowed a pair of magnificent eyes of deep violet hue. Around her neck this extravagant person wore a sixfold chain of the same autumnal berries, and this ornament suited her complexion marvelously well. This strange woman was dancing perpetually with none but herself, whirling almost unintermittently, with great grace and a very light step, refusing every partner that offered himself. Every time she passed in her dancing the sad hornblower she smiled, and the musician turned away his head.
Some other gay women or girls there were, together with their escorts, all of them poorly or fantastically clad, but with all that they assuredly enjoyed themselves greatly, and there seemed to be perfect accord among them all. When it had turned completely dark the host refused to furnish light for illumination, since the wind would blow the candles out anyway, and besides the full-moon would be out in a short spell, and for the present company, he claimed, the moonlight was ample. This declaration, instead of being opposed, caused general satisfaction among this mongrel crowd; they all stood up at the open sides of the dance hall and watched the moon rise in her full splendor, and when the new golden light flooded the wide hall, dancing was resumed with great earnestness. And so quiet, good-natured and well-mannered was it done as if they were turning under the light of a hundred wax candles. This singular light, too, made them all more intimately acquainted with each other, as though they had known them for years, and thus it was that Sali and Vreni could not very well avoid mingling with the rest and dancing with other partners. But whenever they had been separated for just a short while they flew and rejoined the other without delay, and felt delighted thereat. Sali made a sad face at this, and when dancing with another person would turn toward Vreni. But she would not notice that, but would glide along like a fairy, her features transfigured with pleasure, and her whole soul enraptured with the swaying motions of the dance, no matter who her partner.
"Are you jealous, Sali?" she asked smilingly, when the musicians took a longer rest.
"Not the least," he replied.
"Then why are you so angry when I'm dancing with somebody else?" she wanted to know.
"I am not angry because of that," he said, "but only because I am forced to dance with another person but you. I cannot feel pleasant towards another girl. In fact, I feel just as though I had a block of wood in my arms if it is anybody but you. And you? How do you feel about that?"
"Oh, I feel as though I were in heaven so long as I merely can dance and know that you are present," replied Vreni. "But I believe I should at once fall down dead if you went and left me here by myself."
They had gone down from the dance hall and were now standing in the grounds before the house. Vreni put both her arms around his neck, pressed her slender trembling body against him, and put her burning cheek, wet from hot tears, to his, sobbing out: "We cannot marry, and yet I cannot leave you, not for a moment, not for a minute."
Sali embraced the girl, pressed her ardently against his heart, and covered her with kisses. His confused thoughts were struggling for some way out of the labyrinth that encompassed them both, but he saw none. Even if the blot of his family misery and his neglected education were not weighing against him, his extreme youth and his ardent passion would have prevented a long period of patience and self-denial, and then there would still have been his misfortune in having injured Vreni's father for life. The consciousness that happiness for himself and her was, after all, to be found only in a union honest, blameless and approved by the whole world, was just as much alive in him as in Vreni. In her case as in his, two beings ostracized by all, these reflections were like the last flaring up of their lost family honor, an honor that had been blazing for centuries in their respectable houses like a living flame, and which their fathers had involuntarily extinguished and destroyed by a misdeed which at the time had been committed more in thoughtlessness than with malice aforethought. For when they, in the attempt to enlarge their holdings by a piece of dishonesty that seemed at the time wholly without risk and not likely to entail serious consequences, had been guilty of a wrong to a person that had been universally given up as lost, they had done something which many of their otherwise correct neighbors would, under the same circumstances, likewise have done.
Such wrongs as that are indeed perpetrated every day in the year, on a large or a small scale. But once in a while Fate furnishes an example of how two such transgressors against the honor of their houses and against the property of another may oppose each other, and then these will unfailingly fight to the death and devour one the other like two savage beasts. For those who furtively or forcibly increase their estate may commit such fateful blunders not only when they are seated on thrones and then apply a high-sounding name to their lust and their misdeed, but the same in substance is often done as well in the humblest hut, and both categories of sinners frequently accomplish the very reverse of what they aimed at, and their shield of honor then becomes overnight a tablet of shame. But Sali and Vreni had both of them, when still children, seen and cherished the honor of their families, and well remembered how well they themselves were taken care of and how respected and highly considered their fathers had been in those days.
Later they had been separated for long years, and when they met again they saw in each other also the lost honor and luck of their houses, and that instinctive feeling had helped to make them cling to each other all the more tenaciously. They longed indeed, both of them, for happiness and joy, but only if it might be done legitimately and in the sight of all; yet at the same time their ardent affection for each other could not be suppressed and their senses, their bounding blood, called loudly for the consummation of their desires.
"Now it is night," said Vreni in a low tone of voice, "and we will have to part."
"What, I am to go home now and leave you alone?" retorted Sali. "No, that can never be."
"But what then?" said Vreni, plaintively. "Tomorrow morning by daylight things will look no better."
"Let me give you a piece of advice," a shrill voice suddenly was heard behind them. It was the black fiddler, who now came up to them. "You foolish young things! There you are now, and you know not what to do with yourselves, although you are fond of each other. Yet nothing easier than that. I advise you to delay no more. Let one take the other, just as you are. Come along with me and my good friends here, right into the mountains, for there you need no priest, no money, no documents, no honor, no dowry, no bed and no wedding--nothing but your mutual good will. Don't get frightened. Things are not at all so bad with us. Pure air and enough to eat, provided one is not afraid to work. The green woods are our home, and there we love and keep house just as we wish. During the winter we lie snug in some warm, cosy den of our own contriving, or else we creep into the warm hay of the peasants. Therefore, lose no time. Keep your wedding right now and here, and then come along with us, and you are rid of all your cares, and may belong to each other forever and aye, or at least as long as you want to. For have no fear--you'll grow old with us; our style of life procures good strong health, you may well believe me. And don't think, you silly young folk, that I am bearing you a grudge because of what your fathers have done to me. No indeed. Of course, it gives me pleasure to see you arrived there where you now are. But with that I rest content, and I promise you to help and aid you in all sorts of ways if you will only be guided by me."
He said all this in a sincere and well-meaning tone. "Well, think it over, if you wish, for a spell," he encouraged them still further, "but follow my counsel if you are wise. Let the world go, and belong to each other and ask nobody's consent. Think of the gay bridal bed in the deep forest glade, and of the comfortable hay barn in winter." And saying which he disappeared again in the house.
But Vreni was trembling like aspen in Sali's arms, and he asked her: "What do you think of all that? To me it seems indeed it would be best to let the whole world go hang, and to love each other without hindrance and fear."
But Sali said this more jokingly than in earnest. Vreni, on the other hand, took it all seriously, kissed him and replied: "No, I should not like that. These people do not act according to my notions. That young man with the French horn, for instance, and the girl in the silk skirt also belong together in that way, and are said to have been very much in love. But last week, it seems, she has been, for the first time, unfaithful to her lover, and he grieves greatly on that account, and he is angry at her and at the others, but they merely ridicule him. And she is imposing a kind of self-inflicted and ludicrous penance on herself by dancing all alone, without any partner, and without speaking to anyone, but that, too, is only making a fool of him. However, one may see that the poor musician is going to make up with her this very night. But I must say, I should not like to be with a company where such doings are common, for I never could be unfaithful to you, although I would not mind undergoing all else for the sake of possessing you."
For all that, poor Vreni, being held in Sali's arms, became more and more feverish, for ever since noon when that hostess at the inn had mistaken her for a bride, and she herself had not contradicted, this alluring prospect had been burning in her veins, and the less hopeful things seemed to turn for a realization of this idea, the more relentlessly her pulses were hammering with expectation and desire. And Sali was experiencing similar hallucinations, since the fiddler's enticing remarks, while he meant not to listen to them, had also been fuel to his passion. So he said in embarrassment to Vreni: "Let us go inside for a spell. At least we must eat and drink something."
They were greeted in entering the guest room where nobody had remained but the fiddler's friends, the vagrants, which latter were seated about a poor meal at table, by a merry chorus: "There comes our bridal pair!" "Yes," added the fiddler, "now be friendly and comfortable, and we will see you married."
Urged to join the company the two young lovers did so rather shamefacedly. But after a moment they began to brighten, and were glad to be at least rid for the moment of the darker problem that was yet to be solved. Sali ordered wine and some choicer dishes, and soon general merriment spread among them all. The heretofore implacable lover had become reconciled to his unfaithful one, and the couple now fondled and caressed each other in reestablished ecstasy, while the giddy other pair ceaselessly yodled, sang and guzzled, but they also did not forget to give plain evidences of their amatory disposition. The fiddler and the hunchback accompanied all this with a great deal of cheerful noise. Sali and Vreni kept very close to each other, tightly holding hands, and all at once the fiddler bade all the company be quiet, and a jocular ceremony was performed signifying the union of the two young people. They had to clasp hands, and the whole audience rose and, one by one, stepped up to congratulate them and to bid them welcome within their fraternity. They placidly submitted to it all, but said never a word, and regarded the whole as a jest, while all the while a shudder of voluptuous feeling ran through them.
The merry company now became louder and more excited, the fiery wine spurring them on, until at last the black fiddler urged departure.
"We have a long way before us," he cried, "and it is past midnight. Up, all of you! Let us solemnly escort the young bridal couple, and I myself will open the procession. You will hear me fiddling as never before."
Since Sali and Vreni felt perfectly dazed, and scarcely knew what they were doing in this hurly-burly around them, they did not protest when they were made to head the file, the other two couples following, and the hunchback, with his huge bass viol on his shoulder, being at its tail end. The black fiddler, though, strode in advance, playing like a man possessed, skipping down the steep hill path like a chamois, and the others laughed, singing in chorus, and jumping from rock to rock. Thus this nocturnal procession hastened on and on, through the quiet fields and at last through the home village of Sali and Vreni, now sunk in deep slumber.
When they two came through the still lanes and past their abandoned homes, a painfully savage mood seized them, and they danced and whirled along with the others behind the fiddler, kissed, laughed and wept. They also danced up the hill with the three fields that had tempted their fathers to their ruin, the fiddler all the time leading, and on its crest the dusky fiddler fell into a frenzy of fantastic melody, and his train of followers jumped about like veritable demons. Even the poor hunchback acted like demented. This quiet hill resounded with the infernal noise of the whole crew, and it was a perfect witches' Sabbath for a short while. The hunchback breathed hard and in a muffled voice squeaked with delight, swinging his heavy instrument like a baton. In their paroxysm none saw or heard the next.
But Sali seized Vreni and thus forced her to halt. He imprinted a kiss on her mouth, thus stopping her shouts of joy. At last she gathered his meaning, and ceased struggling. They stood there, right on the spot where they first had encountered the black fiddler, listening to the wild music and to the singing and shrieking of the demoniac cortège, as the sounds gradually swept onwards down the hill towards the river below. Nobody evidently had missed them in the midst of the whole spook. The shrill tones of the fiddle, the laughter of the girls, and the yodels of the men resounded for another spell through the night, fainter and fainter, until at last the noise died away down by the shores of the river.
"We have escaped those," now said Sali, "but how are we going to escape from ourselves? How shall we separate, and how keep apart?"
Vreni was not able to answer him. Breathing hard she lay on his breast.
"Had I not better take you back to the village, and wake some family in order to make them take you in for the night? To-morrow you can leave and look for some work. You'll be able to get along anywhere."
"But without you? Get along without you?" said the girl.
"You must forget me."
"Never," she murmured sadly. "Never in my life." And she added, glancing sternly at him: "Could you do that?"
"That is not the point, dear heart," answered Sali, slow and distinct. He caressed her feverish cheeks, while she kept pressing herself against his bosom. "Let us only consider your own case. You, Vreni, are still so very young, and quite likely you will fare well enough after a short while."
"And you also--you ancient man," she said, smiling wistfully.
"Come!" now said Sali, and dragged her along. But they only went on a few steps, and then they halted once more, the better to embrace and kiss. The deep quiet of the world ran like music through their souls, and the only sound to be heard around them was the gentle rush and swish of the waves as they slowly went on further down the valley below.
"How beautiful it is around here! Listen! It seems to me there is somebody far away singing in a low voice."
"No, sweetheart; it is only the water softly flowing."
"And yet it seems there is some music--way out there, everywhere."
"I think it is our own blood coursing that is deceiving our ears."
But though they hearkened again and again, the solemn stillness remained unbroken. The magic effect of the light of a resplendent full moon was visible in the whole landscape, as the autumnal veil of fog that rose in semi-transparent layers from the river shore mingled with the silvery sheen, waving in grayish or bluish bands.
Suddenly Vreni recalled something, and said: "Here, I have bought you something to remember me by."
And she gave him the plain little ring, and placed it on his finger. Sali, too, found the little ring he had meant for her, and while he put it on her hand, he said: "Thus we have had the same thought, you and I."
Vreni held up her hand into the silvery light of the moon and examined the little token curiously.
"Oh, what a fine ring," she then said, laughing. "Now we are both betrothed and wedded. You are my husband, and I'm your wife. Let us imagine so, just long enough until that small cloud has passed the moon, or else until we have counted twelve. You must kiss me twelve times."
Sali was surely fully as much in love as was Vreni, but the marriage problem was, after all, not of such intense interest to him, not such a question of Either--Or, of an immediate To Be or Not To Be, as it was in the case of the girl. For Vreni could feel just then only that one problem, saw in it with passionate energy life or death itself. But now at last he began to see clearly into the very soul of his companion, and the feminine desire in her became instantly with him a wild and ardent longing, and his senses reeled under its potency. And while he had previously caressed and embraced her with the strength and fervor of a devoted lover, he did so now with an incomparably greater abandonment to his passion. He held Vreni tightly to his beating heart, and fairly overwhelmed her with endearments. In spite of her own love fever, the girl with true feminine instinct at once became aware of this change, and she began to tremble as with fear of the unknown. But this feeling passed almost in a moment, and before even the cloud had flitted over the moon's face her whole being was seized by the whirlwind of his ardor, and engulfed in its depths. While both struggled with and at the same time fondled the other, their beringed hands met and seized the other as though at that supreme moment their union was consummated without the consent of their will power. Sali's heart knocked against its prison door like a living being; anon it stood still, and he breathed with difficulty and said slow and in a whisper: "There is one thing, only one thing, we can do, Vreni; we keep our wedding this hour, and then we leave this world forever--there below is the deep water--there is everlasting peace and fulfilment of all our hopes--there nobody will divorce us again--and we have had our dearest wish--have lived and died together--whether for long, whether for short--we need not care--we are rid of all care--"
And Vreni instantly responded. "Yes, Sali--what you say I also have thought to myself--not once but constantly these days--I have dreamed of it with my whole soul--we can die together, and then all this torment is over--Swear to me, Sali, that you will do it with me!"
"Yes, dearest, it is as good as done--nobody shall take you from me now but Death alone!" Thus the young man in his exaltation. But Vreni's breath came quick and as if freed from an intolerable burden. Tears of sweetest joy came to her eyes, and she rose with spontaneous alacrity and, light as a bird, flew down towards the river side. Sali followed her, thinking for a moment she wanted to escape him, while she fancied he would wish to prevent her. Thus they both sprang down the steep path, and Vreni laughed happily like a child that will not allow her playmate to catch her.
"Are you sorry for it already?" Thus they both apostrophized the other, as they in a twinkling had reached the river shore and seized hold of each other. And both answered: "No, indeed, how can you think so?"
And carefree they now walked briskly along the river bank, and they outdistanced the hastening waves, for thus keenly they sought a spot where they could stay for a while. For in the trance of their enthusiasm they knew of nothing but the bliss awaiting them in the full possession of each other. The whole worth and meaning of their lives just then condensed itself into that one supreme desire. What was to follow it, death, eternal oblivion, was to them a mere nothing, a puff of air, and they thought less of it than does the spendthrift think of the morrow when wasting his last substance.
"My flowers shall precede me," cried Vreni, "only look! They are quite withered and dusty!" And she plucked them from her bosom, cast them into the water, and sang aloud: "But sweeter far than almonds is my love for thee!"
"Stop!" called out Sali. "Here is our bridal chamber!"
They had reached a road for vehicles which led from the village to the river, and here there was a landing, and a big boat, laden high with hay, was tied to an iron ring in the bank. In a reckless mood Sali instantly set to freeing the ship from the strong ropes that held it to the landing. But Vreni grasped his arm, and she shouted laughing: "What are you about? Are we to wind up by stealing from the peasants their haycock?"
"That is to be the dowry they give us," replied Sali with humor. "See! A swimming bedstead and a couch softer than any royal couple ever had. Besides, they will recover their property unharmed somewhere near the goal whither it was to travel anyway, and they will hardly trouble their hard heads with the question how it got there. Do you notice, dear, how the boat is swaying and rocking? It is impatient to start on the journey."
The ship lay a few paces off the shore in deeper water. Sali lifted Vreni in his arms high up, and began to wade through the water towards the boat. But she caressed him so fervently and wriggled like a fish on the angle, that Sali was losing his footing in the rather strong current. She strained her hands and arms in order to plunge them in the water, crying: "I also want to try the cool water. Do you remember how cold and moist our hands were when we first met? That time we had been catching fish. Now we ourselves will be fish, and two big and handsome ones to boot."
"Keep still, you wriggling darling," said Sali, scarcely able to stand up in the water, with his sweetheart tossing in his arms and the current pulling at him, "or it will drag me under!"
But now he lifted his pretty burden into the boat, and scrambled up its side himself. Then he hoisted her up to the hay, packed in orderly fashion in the middle, sweet-scented and downy like a vast pillow, and next he swung himself up to her. When they both were thus enthroned on their bridal bed the ship drifted gently into the middle of the stream, and then, turning slowly, it headed sluggishly in an easterly direction.