On Saturdays, unless there were repairs to be executed which were urgently required to be done, there was no work in my shop after three o'clock. During the afternoon I generally made up my accounts and balanced my books for the week--a task which afforded me satisfaction, for it was seldom I did not find myself a trifle richer at the end of the week than I had been at the beginning. A business is a real pleasure to a man when that is the case.
Gideon Wolf, the moment the hour began to strike, would lay down his tools as though they were red-hot, jump from his seat, whisk off his apron, and be out of the shop before the clock had done striking. You can always tell a good and cheerful workman by the manner of his proceedings when the clock proclaims that his day's toil is at an end.
While I was at my accounts, Gideon would be enjoying himself somewhere after his own fashion, and I would see nothing more of him till supper-time. He was frequently late at his work in the morning, but he was the soul of punctuality at his meals. I will say that of him.
On the Saturday after I had spoken to Katrine with such ill effect, I was casting up my books as usual, and coming to Gideon Wolf's account found him indebted to me to the tune of one hundred and eighty florins. "He will never pay me," I thought. "The debt is not even doubtful; it is bad. Well, it is a good thing I can afford to lose the money." Just at that moment Gideon himself entered and stood before me. "Something is in the wind," thought I. "If he comes to borrow more money he may save himself the trouble of asking. I do not give him another florin." And I went on with my adding-up.
"Master Fink," said Gideon, "I wish to speak to you."
"Yes, Gideon, yes," I said, drawing a double line with my ruler, a thick one and a thin one; I kept my books very neatly, and often turned over the leaves with pride. "What have you to say?"
"I am not getting along well, Master Fink."
"That is plain," I said, with my eyes on his account.
"I might go on like this for fifty years," he continued, "and I should be no better off then than I am now."
"It really appears so," I said; "and to be honest with you, Gideon, if all the people I had dealings with resembled you, I should myself be no better off."
I said this quite calmly and dispassionately. It is hurtful to a man to be forever angry about things he cannot alter for the better, be he on the right or the wrong side with respect to them.
"I have served you faithfully, Master Fink. As apprentice and workman I have worked for you for more than ten years."
"Yes," said I, "it is more than ten years since you first entered my shop." And there rose before me the vision of his mother, my old sweetheart, as she appeared to me ten years ago, to beg me to take her son as my apprentice and make an upright man of him. Conscientiously had I endeavored to do my duty by him, to guide him in the straight path, to make him truthful, industrious, honest, and brave. As well might I have striven to alter the nature of a fox, and to instil into the heart of that treacherous animal noble and faithful qualities. Sadly did I confess that his mother's cherished dreams of the future could never be realized, and that she would one day awake to the bitter reality.
"Master Fink," said Gideon, the years I have worked for you have been wasted. I stand here today without a florin, compelled to do without many things I desire to possess."
"It is a common calamity," I remarked "all men suffer from it."
"We are sent into the world," said Gideon, gloomily, "with a common right, the poor as well as the rich, to enjoy what there is in it."
"Ah, ah," thought I, "is this young man a member of one of those secret societies I have read of, whose aim it is to root up the very foundations of society?" And I said aloud, "Yes, to enjoy what belongs to us, what we have worked for and honestly earned. Proceed, and leave politics out of the question. You say that the ten years you have worked for me have been as good as wasted. Have you not learned a trade?"
"My pockets are empty," he retorted. "Suppose that I wished to settle in life--" He paused suddenly.
I took up his words according to my understanding of them. "All, then, is arranged between you and Katrine Loebeg."
"What do you know about her?" he cried, with a dark flush in his face. "Why do you mix up our names?"
The rascal! I could have knocked his head against the wall!
"Be careful, Gideon, be careful," I said, half warningly, half threateningly "more is known about you and Katrine Loebeg than you seem to be aware of. People are not blind."
He bit his lips. "What there is between Katrine and me is our business, and concerns no one but ourselves."
"You are in error. Katrine was born in this town, and she is an orphan. She is regarded with eyes of affection by many, and I could name worthy parents who would gladly receive her as a child of their own. See that you deal honestly by her. You did not finish what you were about to say. Suppose you wished to settle in life--"
"How should I be able to do so? If I set up for myself as a watch-maker in this place, either you or I would have to put up our shutters. There is not room enough for two."
"The world is wide, Gideon."
"But if I wish to stop here?"
"Stop here, in Heaven's name! Who prevents you?"
"I did not expect you would mock me, Master Fink," and from biting his lips he took to biting his nails. "I have a proposition to make to you. Having worked for you so long it is natural I should look for some advancement. I will work for you for two more years at the present rate, and at the expiration of that time you shall admit me as a partner in your business. You have no son to take care of you in your old age. I will be your son; I will take care of you. Then all will be well with us."
"The murder is out," I thought. "Now I will see how far he will go."
"In plain words, Gideon," I said, "you propose to adopt me as your father. How can I thank you for your generous proposal! Of course it would have to be a settled agreement between us."
"Of course," he said, eagerly.
I remained silent for a little while, with my head resting on my hand, and I saw, without looking up, that his eyes never left my face. "The villain!" I thought. "He thinks the hook is already in my gills. I will remain silent just long enough to make him believe he has me safe. A fine idea, truly, to take this envious, idle knave as my partner. In three years I should find myself penniless, without a roof to my head. If it were not for his mother, whom I once loved, I would bid him pack off without another word. I am to allow him to adopt me as his father, am I? I am to put myself into his charge, for all the world as though I needed a keeper! A lunatic, indeed, I should prove myself to be by so doing. He must think that mankind were made for him to prey upon. Do I not put up with his blunders and bad workmanship--ay, and with something worse which I have never given utterance to? Because I am silent on the matter, he does not suspect that I know him to be a thief, and that I could send him to prison for what he has done. But for his mother's sake I will spare him. I will not bring shame and disgrace upon the gray hairs of the woman who brought into my life its most beautiful dreams, and who made the mistake of choosing a vagabond instead of me. She has suffered enough, and my hand shall not be raised against her. Ah, you gambler and schemer, Gideon Wolf, I could find it in my heart to strike you where you stand!"
Thus I thought and mused, while Gideon stood before me, reckoning up the chickens I had hatched, and calculating how many gold-pieces they would sell for.
"Gideon Wolf," I said, in as gentle a tone as I could command, "your proposal springs from a heart beating with consideration for your old master. It displays your nature in a beautiful light. But have you fully considered the sacrifice you propose to make; have you debated the subject with yourself in a calm and serious spirit; are you quite prepared to waste two of your most valuable years in my service, before you can hope to reap the reward to which you believe yourself entitled?"
"I have fully considered," he said, with gracious arrogance; "I am quite prepared."
"There are so many things," I said, laughing inwardly, "that may have escaped one of less experience than yourself. In human life so many unforeseen circumstances occur! I am hale and hearty and strong; yet unexpectedly the angel of death may call me to my account."
He held his hand before his eyes, which were as dry as a stone.
"Do not speak of such a calamity," he said, in a broken voice; "it cuts me to the heart. But even then you could provide for me. You are alone in the world; you have no family to whom you would care to leave your possessions."
"And I might leave them to you!" I cried, in the tone of a man upon whom a blessed inspiration had fallen. "I might make a will, constituting you my heir! True, true that would be the best way--by far the best way."
His face glowed with exultation. "You are too good, my master," he said, drawing his breath quickly. "You think of everything. It would never have occurred to me."
"How could such a thing be possible?" I cried, in assumed indignation at the injustice he was doing himself. "You are the last person who would calculate upon gaining anything by my death. But still consider, Gideon, what you might be throwing away by tying yourself to me. You have seen but little of the world, and you do not know how many lonely rich men there are who would gladly throw themselves into your arms if you made them understand what you are ready to sacrifice for them."
Certainly this young man was fool as well as rogue, for he accepted every word I spoke as the utterance of sincerity.
"Why waste more time?" be asked, with a complacent glance at that portion of my stock which was displayed to attract customers--among which were six fine fat gold lever watches, eighteen-carat hunters; six others, open-faced; four lady's dainty toys, with enamelled cases, set with diamonds a couple of dozen silver watches, with perfect movements and one marvel of workmanship, which told not only the time but the day of the year, the name and date of the month, and the changes of the moon. Then there was a fine collection of trinkets, chains, and rings, brooches, and the like, all paid for with the labor of my hands. And Gideon Wolf was standing beneath the fruitful vines, with his mouth wide open, waiting for the grapes to fall into it. But he was not the only fox in the world who met with disappointment. "Why waste more time?" he asked. "I am a man to be trusted, and what I mean I say. After all the years I have passed in your house, it would be black ingratitude in me to desert you in your old age."
"Am I so very old, Gideon?" I murmured.
"You are not young, Master Fink."
"But I feel sometimes as if I still had a little strength left in me; I do indeed, Gideon."
"The strongest are cut down when they least expect it," he said, showing me the whites of his eyes.
"There is Anna," I said; "she has been with me a long time, and her heart is full of kindness towards me. She would take care of me."
"Of what use are women?" exclaimed Gideon, scornfully. "They are mere playthings."
I sighed, "Alas, for poor Katrine!" and then said, "You have no cause of complaint against me, Gideon. You have been well and justly treated in my house. You acknowledge it?"
"Yes, Master Fink, I acknowledge it."
"You do not, I am sure, harbor any uncharitableness towards your old master."
"I should despise myself if I did."
"Fair wages all the time you were my apprentice, Gideon. This home is not to be despised. It is not a palace, it is true, but it is better than many palaces. The rain does not come through the roof and your bed--it is a comfortable bed, Gideon?"
"Yes, it is a comfortable bed."
"Then Anna is a good cook--one in a thousand. You have always had plenty to eat."
"I have nothing to complain of, Master Fink, nothing whatever. You have been a good and kind master, and I am going to show my gratitude. It is a bargain--you consent to my proposition. We commence from this day."
"Nay," I said, deeming it time to end the comedy; "it takes two to make a bargain;" and I rose and made him a low bow, just the kind of bow I made to Pretzel the Miser a good many years before, when he came into my shop, ready to strip me of every stick I possessed. "I will never consent to the sacrifice; it would be a reproach to me all my life. No, Gideon, I will not be adopted as your father; I will bear my burden alone. You shall grow rich in an easier way; you will find it, I make no doubt, for you are a sharp customer. Perhaps Miser Pretzel will make you his heir." Gideon's face, at the mention of Pretzel's name, was as white as milk, and I was confirmed in a suspicion which had crossed my mind, that Pretzel had a hand in counselling him to the end he wished to gain. "He is rolling in money--and so very, very generous! He once tried to do me a good turn. Or perhaps the invisible gentleman you play cards with in the middle of the night may, some time or other, lose a large sum of money to you, and bring it to you in a number of sacks. How wonderful that would be, would it not? So let what has been spoken between us be forgotten, as though it had never happened. And when you are rich," I said, closing the book in which his account was entered, and giving it a little tap, "and riding in your carriage, you shall pay me what you owe me, and get out of my debt. I hope you will give me your custom, as a slight return for the just treatment you have received in my house."
His face was dreadful to look at. Rage, terror, venom, in their most baleful aspects, were expressed in the play of his features. Had I been a weak old fellow I think he would not have restrained the impulse to put his fingers round my throat but he was aware of my strength, and we were both spared unpleasant consequences.
"So," he said, slowly, "you have been playing with me; you have been mocking me; you have been acting the part of spy and eavesdropper. You treat me as you would treat a dog that you can kick about at your pleasure. Because you are rich and I am poor, you think you have the right to crush me under your feet. Oh, if I had the power!--"
And he ground his teeth, and left me without another word.
It was a hard punishment I had dealt out to him, but he deserved it. He was a rascal from the hairs of his head to the soles of his feet.
All that night Gideon Wolf occupied my mind. I thought of him and dreamed of him, and when I rose in the morning it seemed to me that I had a duty to perform which it would be a sin to neglect. Anna was very much astonished when I told her after breakfast, Gideon not being present, that I was going a journey on the following day, and should be absent for a week.
"How will you be able to live away from home?" she exclaimed. "You have never slept a night out of the house all the years I have been with you."
"A proof," said I, "that I deserve a holiday."
"Who will air your sheets for you? Who will cook your meals? You will come back as thin as the leg of a fly."
"I shall enjoy your cooking all the more when it is placed before me again. Do not fear, Anna--I shall be able to manage. It is not pleasure that calls me away; it is duty. I shall take only my knapsack with me, and I shall leave the place in your charge."
"It will be taken good care of," she said wiping her eyes; the foolish creature had been actually shedding tears at the thought of my leaving her for a short time; "only I will not have Gideon Wolf in the house while you are absent. I will not cook a meal for him--no, Master Fink, not for all the money you can offer me; and I will not sleep in the house alone with him."
"Then," I said, by no means displeased at the opportunity she offered me, "I shall tell Gideon that he must get lodgings elsewhere. It may be, Anna, that he will not remain with us much longer."
"I shall dance for joy," she said, nodding her head a great many times, "when he goes for good. It is not for good that he stays."
If Anna was surprised at my resolution, Gideon Wolf was filled with consternation upon my telling him that there would be no business done in the shop for a week.
"What is to become of me?" he cried.
"I really cannot tell you," I replied. "It must be quite plain to you that there is not much love lost between us. Our conversation yesterday was not the pleasantest in the world, and you left me in a very insolent manner. You said things which I shall not easily forget. You are a man, and you must shift for yourself in the best way you can. I do not presume to dictate to you, or to offer you advice."
"Master Fink," he said, cringing, "I am sorry for the words I spoke when I left you yesterday. I will beg your pardon if you wish me to."
"I do not wish it. Yon are humble now because you are frightened. It may be, Gideon, when I return from my journey, that I may still be disposed to act as your friend; I tell you honestly that it depends upon circumstances and what happens to me during the time I am away."
"Where are you going?" he asked, with a look of keen curiosity.
"I shall not tell you; I am my own master, and my movements are free. It remains for me to inform you that you cannot remain in this house during my absence."
"What! You turn me out-of-doors!"
"It can scarcely be regarded in that light," I said; "you will not be in want of a bed. Anna will be the master here, and she will not have you near her. You have managed to offend her in some way, and she declares she will not cook a meal for you for all the money I could offer her."
"She is a cat!" snarled Gideon.
"Well, at all events she has a set of long, sharp nails, and I should advise you to be civil to her. You remember what I told you yesterday about the invisible gentleman you play cards with in the middle of the night. Anna has got scent of it, and she vows she will not sleep in the house with you and that--that strange friend of yours, unless she has a man to protect her. You see, Gideon, there is no help for it."
"I have no money to pay for lodgings elsewhere," he said. "Are you going to leave me to starve?"
"No; here are two watches to clean and regulate; let them be in first-rate going order at the end of the week, and I will pay you more than your food and lodging will cost you. As for starving at any time, are you not an able-bodied man, with a strong pair of hands, and a good trade at your fingers' ends? No man who is willing to work need starve in this town."
The watches I gave him to repair were of little value, and I could easily have replaced them in case they were not returned to me, so the next morning, which was Monday, I affixed to my shutters a notice that I was called away on important business, and should be absent for a week. Then I shook hands with my old Anna, who arranged my knapsack for me, and bade her good-bye. She was much affected. Had I been her husband or her son she could not have exhibited a deeper concern at my departure; her tenderness touched me to the heart. Something else worked also upon my feelings. There was an appetizing fragrance in my knapsack proceeding from some delicacy which Anna had cooked for me; I could not help smelling it, although my nose was in the middle of my face, and not at the back of my head.
The duty I had set myself to perform was to speak to Gideon Wolf's mother concerning his doings. I would tell her, gently and kindly, that he needed counsel from some one to whom he would listen with respect. Who was better able to enforce this advice than the mother who had nursed him at her breast? She should learn all about Pretzel the Miser's character, and how that association with a wretch so vile could be productive of nothing but evil. I would speak to her also about Katrine Loebeg, and beg her to save that innocent young girl from shame. Moreover, I was prepared to advance her a small sum of money, with which her son could set up business in another town, at some distance from me, where there was no watch-maker, and where one could do a fair trade. I would lend the money to her, not to Gideon. If she repaid me, well if not, well. It would not ruin me. With industry, and with his mother living with him to attend to his wants and do the household work, he might in time get better thoughts in his head, and become a respectable member of society. This would I do for my old sweetheart's sake.
The direction, therefore, I took was towards the village in which I had passed my youthful days and dreamed my youthful dreams, the village of which Louisa was once the pride and the beauty, and in which she still lived, a broken-down woman, old before her time, on whom the years had pressed with a bitter hand. One friend and another came out of their shops and houses to shake hands with me and ask questions about my journey, for the knapsack on my shoulders excited their curiosity. They all had kind and neighborly words for me, and nodded and smiled when I told them I was going to take a holiday and do a little business at the same time. Never till that day did I know how much I was respected by my neighbors, and how sincere was the affection they entertained for me. These feelings were mutual. There are memorials which grow in silence and stillness, of the growth of which we are almost unconscious until some action of ours out of the ordinary groove brings them into view and then there is suddenly revealed to us a full-bearing tree of love or hate. One good woman insisted upon my stopping at her door. Running to the rear of her house and running quickly back again, she brought me a beautiful white rose, which she stuck in my coat.
"Going a-courting, I do believe," she said, with a merry smile.
"I am past that long ago," I replied.
"No, indeed," she said "if you cared to ask, you would not be single at the end of the year."
"Well, then," I said to her little girl, about six years old, who was clinging to her gown, "will you marry me, little maid?" The child hid her face in her mother's dress, and blushed as if she had been fifteen. "There now," I said, "what did I tell you?"
I stooped and kissed the little maid, and she gave me two kisses for my one.
"If that answer doesn't satisfy you," said the gay-hearted mother, "you are hard to please. Mind! I shall keep you to it!"
So we parted, blithely.
Pleasant bits these to meet with by the waysides. And the best of it is, even the humblest and poorest may earn them if they are so minded.
The knapsack on my shoulders was the same which had accompanied me on my youthful travels, and though I had not worn it since that time, it felt like an old friend to me. I had determined to walk the best part of the way, out of a sentimental desire to renew acquaintance with scenes I had not set eyes on for five and twenty years. I knew that I should be overtaken on the road by carts and wagons on which I could get a lift when I was tired.
There are others besides myself who, in their middle or old age, have started upon such an excursion, and who have retraced, as it were, the roads of life with feelings of pensive sadness and wonder at the change that has come over them. I have read of countries in which people live at such a rapid rate that everything in them is constantly changing its condition; where in a year the roads are so altered that you cannot recognize them as the same over which you travelled but yesterday; where dwellings are being continually pulled down and built up again; where villages grow into towns, and towns into cities, with magical swiftness; where farm-houses disappear, to make room for mansions; and where the people, young and old, are afflicted with such a restlessness in the soles of their feet that they keep running from this spot to that, and from that to this, in their eager haste to acquire land and money and houses. It is not so with us, and despite the grand talk about the march of progress and the advance of civilization, I do not believe we are any the worse off for it. We move slowly along, and there are not many who desert their native place in their youth, and pass their manhood in a distant spot. True, I had done so, but there was a heart-reason for it. I have no doubt, if Louisa had chosen me for her mate, I should have been in the old village at this moment, surrounded by my children. In the countries of which I speak wanderers like myself are deprived of a sad and sweet pleasure, such as stole into my heart as I passed and recognized old familiar scenes made dear to me by the years which had passed since they and I last greeted each other. For, indeed, it was not only I who greeted them, it was they, also, that greeted me. The trees, the woods, the farm-houses, the vineyards, the wayside inns, the scores of familiar landmarks which met my eyes, all seemed to say, "Ah, old fellow, here you are once more. We have often wondered what had become of you. Where have you been hiding yourself all this long while? We are glad to see you alive and well. Welcome--welcome!" Yes, it is true, they all welcomed me, and were rejoiced to see me, and I waved my hands and smiled at them, in response to the spiritual greeting which brought gladness and sadness to my soul. A sweet spirit of repose pervaded my being, and even in my sadness there was no unhappiness. Here was an old windmill, within view of the moving sails of which I had rested five-and-twenty years ago, thinking of Louisa Wagner; here the great stone, embedded in the earth and covered with moss, upon which I sat. The sails were revolving now, and the sight brought back to me the very thoughts which agitated me then. Ah, how I suffered, how I suffered! "Take with you all my hopes," thus did I muse at that long distant time--"take with you all my hopes, and grind them into dust." And now, as I sat upon the ancient, moss-covered stone, the heart's storm was hushed, the tempest of the soul was stilled. I breathed a prayer, and was grateful. That is the most beautiful time of a man's life, when he feels at peace with himself and the world. So might an aged father, after a long and varied life, gaze upon his old wife and beautiful children, and say, "Thank God!" Everything I saw contributed to my enjoyment. The orchards in which the plums were ripening and the apples blushing like young maids, the fir-trees bending solemnly above me in the heights, the hedges, the hay-ricks, the cattle drinking in the lowlands, the ponds in which the ducks were swimming, the fowls scratching at the earth, the brooks, the streams, the pigeons flying to their steepled houses, the very children who looked at me as I passed--all were the same as I had seen in my younger days. They had not grown an hour older, not an hour. There came a troop of youngsters on their way home from school, caps and frocks and boots and books, all the same. They followed me, singing an evening song, and I rewarded them and made them happy. A cow stood with her head over a fence, and gazed at me with mild, serious eyes. Two young colts, running towards me with side-twistings of their bodies, suddenly stopped, transfixed. And there was the inn at which I had rested for the night, and the wife of the innkeeper, with a baby in her arms. All the same--all the same--young and sweet and beautiful as in the days gone by. Ah, what a pleasure to me was that journey, and what reflections passed through my mind as I thought of the more pregnant journey I had taken on the roads of life since I had torn myself from my native village! It is good occasionally to give one's self up to these thoughts. At such times the trouble and vexation of our days sink into insignificance, and are of less importance than the bird which flies in the air, than the leaf which flutters in the wind. At such times we learn the truest lessons.
It was soon over, that excursion of fifty miles, as all things are and shall be, for time is but a breath; and on the morning of the third day I entered the village in which I was born.
I made my way at once to the cottage in which Louisa had resided with her parents. It was inhabited by strangers. Upon inquiry I learned that she lived in a hut on the farther outskirts of the village. I recognized no one; no one recognized me. I went to my old cottage, the cottage in which my father and grandfather and great-grandfather had lived, and in which I had soled and heeled Louisa's boots. It was now a little shop in which sweetmeats and children's toys and cakes were sold. I asked the woman to allow me to go through the rooms, and told her I was born there.
"Then you must be Gustave Fink," she said.
"Yes," I answered, "I am Gustave Fink."
It was supposed, I discovered, that I had made a great fortune, and that I was rich enough to buy up the entire village. This impression was confirmed by my purchasing, at a cost of less than half-a-florin, toys and cakes for all the children who were looking at the treasures in the window. But it seemed to me, after the first greeting, that the woman gazed on me with displeasure, as on a man who had committed some grievous wrong. I dismissed the fancy. What earthly grounds could there have been for such a feeling?
From my old house I went to the church, and lived over again the Sabbath morning walk I had taken with Louisa, in her new cotton dress and the bit of new ribbon at her throat. I read the inscriptions on the tombstones, and was strangely affected. Many whom I had known had passed away years ago. All these years at peace, with the grass and the wild-flowers growing over them, while all around the hearts of men and women were still throbbing with wild desires, with unsatisfied yearnings, with longings and temptations. Ah, what a lesson, what a lesson! Wait but till to-morrow, when death's icy hand shall stop the beating of the pulses, when the great king, Dust, shall claim them for his own! How blind, how blind! If men would but kneel and sincerely pray, and hold out the kindly hand to their fellows! If they would but learn the lesson aright!
The simplest flower teaches it. Behold me, radiant, blooming, bright-eyed, perfect in outward form and in every hidden vein. It is the summer, and warm breezes kiss me, and the life-giving sun shines upon me, and I live--I live--I live! It is the winter, and I am dead. Seek me in vain I am crumbling into dust.
But the seed remains.
So shall the seeds of good deeds remain, and blossom into flower.
The church door was open. I entered, and knelt and prayed.
An hour past noon I stood before Louisa Wolf's hovel. It was nothing more; it would have been mockery to call it a cottage.
I looked in at the window it was almost bare of furniture, and I recognized that whoever inhabited it must have a hard fight to keep body and soul together. And in the room was an old, old woman--none other than Louisa Wolf.
She was but forty-five, but she looked seventy when she opened the door to my knock.
She fell back when she saw me, as though she had received a mortal wound. I hurried forward to support her, but she thrust me fiercely off, and retreated a step or two. I entered without invitation, and surveyed with wonder and compassion the miserable apartment. When, after this melancholy survey, I looked at Louisa Wolf, I was astonished to observe that a dark frown had settled on her face, and that she was regarding me with aversion. I had not long to wait before I was enlightened as to the cause of this unwelcome and unexpected reception.
"What do you do here?" she muttered. "What do you do here?"
"I have made a long journey," I said, "especially to see you."
"How have I deserved so great an honor," she asked, her eyes flashing scorn at me, "from one so powerful and rich? You have something to say to me--of course you have, else why should you have troubled yourself to come to me? Is what you have to say about a man or a woman, Gustave Fink?"
"It is about your son Gideon," I replied.
"About my dear son Gideon," she cried "I guessed as much, I guessed as much! It is for evil you are here--you are capable of nothing else. Have you come to complain of my boy? Have you come to set a mother against her son? Well done, well done, Gustave Fink! Have you come to tell me that Gideon ought to work twenty hours a day for you instead of eighteen, and that he does not pay his debt to you quick enough to satisfy your grasping soul? How is it possible, when you starve him, when you cheat him, when you rob him of his rest? Is that the way to treat the man who has slaved for you, who has worked his fingers to the bone for you, who has made you rich, and who brings all the custom to your shop? Yon would have been in the gutter had it not been for the exertions of my noble boy, who found out too late that he was bound to a monster without a heart. Did you think I was ignorant of your wicked doings? Evil actions such as yours cannot be forever hidden. Go, go, or I shall strike you!"
And indeed she raised her feeble hand to put her threat into execution.
I comprehended instantly the lying and backbiting that had been going on, and the kind of character that villain Gideon had been giving me all the time he had eaten my bread and been sheltered under my roof. This was the return he had made for my kindness and consideration. Where could that young man have got his secret and wicked mind from? Not from his mother, whose heart had been always open to tender impressions, and who, the moment she saw me, could not help speaking frankly. It was the father who had bestowed upon his son the curse of his venomous nature. Heavens! What some parents have to answer for! There must have been a time in the world when human creatures were suckled at the teats of treacherous animals.
How could I be angry with the unfortunate woman? I pitied her--from my heart I pitied her. What a fate was hers! First the father, then the son. She was born to be deceived. She put her trust in rocks that wounded her body and brought anguish to her soul. In what way was it all to end?
My mission was useless, I saw that clearly enough, and I was almost tempted to exclaim, "Never again will I attempt to do good to any living creature!" I had been animated by the best intentions, and they were turned as poisonous arrows against me. After what I had heard I was convinced that Louisa Wolf would put a wrong construction upon every word I uttered concerning her son. Her mother's love was too strong a shield for me to hope to produce any good effect upon it in my desire to assist her. Perhaps it was as well; it was labor saved. Her son's nature was too bad to be altered for the better; it was rotten to the core.
But I was desirous to ascertain the full extent of his misrepresentations.
"You know, then," I said," how much your son is indebted to me."
My amazement was great when she mentioned a sum it would have taken him twenty years to repay.
"Oh, I know, I know!" she cried, in terrible agitation, invoking, by the movement of her hands, Heaven's imprecations on my head. "You have set it all down against him, every florin, and added devil's interest, so as to make him your slave for life. From the first week he became your apprentice you brought him in your debt, and you continued to do so day after day, week after week, till his time was out. He could not leave you as he wished to do, because you had in your false books page upon page of figures, which you told him he must clear off. You threatened him with prison if he left in your debt. You would like me to believe that it is not true--you would like me to believe that you are an honorable, good man, and that my son is a thief; but, Gustave Fink, you can no longer deceive me. There was a time--but it is past I have been warned against you. My son has told me--yes, he has told me in his letters that one day you would seek me out, and endeavor to make me believe that he is worse than you are yourself. You can save the lies; keep them to use on some other poor woman. Where is Heaven's justice that such men as you prosper, while honest, upright men are made to suffer? Gideon might dispute the debt--he might take you before the judges, and say, 'My master is a rogue his accounts are false; he makes me largely in debt to him because he does not wish me to leave his service.' Of what use would it be? A poor man against a rich man--we know what that comes to in law. And you have made people think you are so good. Kind Master Fink! Benevolent Master Fink! That is how they speak of you--those who are not acquainted with your real character. You would have hadmebelieve it by sending me money from time to time, and putting down twice the sum in your books against Gideon. You have done yourself no good; every florin you have sent me I have sent back to my poor boy yes, every florin. I have wanted bread over and over again, but I have fasted for days rather than spend the smallest coin of your money upon myself. It was my son's money you were sending me, not your own. But your punishment is coming. Gideon is your slave; he will not be so much longer. He will be free soon, and then he will expose you, and will let me live with him. He will be rich one day, mark my words, and you will have to stand aside and bow to him. And I shall be with him--it will break your heart to see him and his loving mother together at last, you who have tried your hardest to keep us apart. Every year I have hoped to go to him, but you have compelled him to put me off. 'Not this year,' he has been obliged to write, 'not this year, but next. Master Fink will not hear of it yet awhile, and he has so got me in his power that I dare not offend him by asking you to come.' And then again, when another year went by, 'Master Fink swears he will discharge me if you come, and will imprison me for the money he says I owe him.' And again and again and again the same. What could my poor boy do when you had set your heart upon separating us? So it has gone on all these weary years, and I have never kissed my boy's bright face since the unhappy day he left me to become your apprentice. What wicked thing had I done in my life that I should be so bitterly punished? What evil fortune led me to your door to beg you to rob me of my son? Better that I had dropped down dead on the road, for then Gideon would have remained among friends." Tears streamed from her eyes; her face was convulsed with grief. "What pleasure," she continued, wringing her hands and swaying to and fro, "do you think I have in this world except him, my boy, my baby that I suckled at my breast? What do I care for in the world but him? Has my life been so full of joy that you should bring a deeper misery into it than any I have suffered? You are my son's enemy and mine--oh, I have known it long! You were my enemy when I was a girl, and you used to speak against Steven because I chose him instead of you."
I had listened in profound sorrow and indignation to the outpourings of her grief, but for the life of me I could not remain silent at this accusation.
"Louisa Wolf," I said, "I never spoke against your husband. What I thought I thought, but I never openly uttered one word against Steven Wolf. You were free to choose, and you chose. With all my heart I wish that your choice had brought you greater happiness."
When I saw her eyes wandering mournfully round her cheerless apartment I was angry with myself for having spoken. It would have been more generous by far to have held my tongue.
"Ah," she said, shuddering, "this is part of your revenge--this is why you come here--to exult and rejoice over my misery! Years ago you resolved in your heart that you would one day be revenged upon me for refusing you and accepting another man. Well, you have your revenge! Look at my home--you see the whole of it. There is no other room. Here is my bed--a little straw on the bare boards. Here is the cupboard in which I keep my food when I have any. Take your fill, take your fill--you are well revenged. Look at my face--look at my hands--see what I have come to, and rejoice!" She struck her breast despairingly. Into my eyes the warm tears gushed, but she could not see them, for she was blinded by her own. "Gustave Fink, I once held you in my heart--I did, although I accepted Steven even then I held you in my heart. Not guiltily, no, not guiltily, but as a sister might a brother whom she could love and honor. I thought of you as a pure-minded, noble, generous man, and I looked up to you as the best I had ever known. Now, in my heart you have destroyed that image, and I regard you as a monster. Yes, you are there still, but as my enemy and my son's enemy. You have poisoned my life--your revenge has reached as far as that. From the day upon which conviction entered my mind that you were not worthy of my esteem, I had nothing but the memory of my son. to comfort me. You would rob me of him, but you shall not--you shall not, I say! God will prevent you, and will smite you with a terrible but just punishment for your cruelty to a poor and suffering woman!"
Of what use to attempt to undeceive her? It would have been but adding torture to torture. But was it not infamous that one's good intentions should have been frustrated, and one's kindness turned to gall, by the machinations of a knave? Still, I did say, out of simple justice to myself,
"Believe it or not, as you will, Louisa Wolf, my only motive in coming here was to endeavor to do you and your son a kindness."
"I do not believe it," said the poor creature, vehemently "your actions give your words the lie! Answer me this, if you can. Did you seek me out to tell me that Gideon had done his duty by you, that he was a faithful, willing, honest servant, and that you are satisfied with him, and grateful to him for the great services he has rendered you? Did you come here to give me pleasure or sorrow? You are silent--you dare not speak no, Gustave Fink, you dare not! God once smote a liar dead, and you fear he would smite you the same. Now, hear me. Before this year is out I will see my son, or die! Nothing shall prevent me nothing but death! If he cannot come to me I will go to him, and give him a mother's blessing--I will, as there is a Judge in heaven by whom you shall one day be condemned!"
Well, I left her; it was the best mercy I could show her.
As I turned my back upon the miserable hovel I was conscious that a spiritual sweetness had departed from my life, and that a human link of love was snapped which could never again be made whole. Now that I had lost the esteem of the woman whose laugh was the cheeriest, whose eyes the brightest, whose face the sunniest in my remembrance, I felt how precious it had been to me, and how, in its unrecognized influence, it had often helped to soften my judgment and my temper when things were not going exactly right with me.
Thus it happened that twice in my life had I received a terrible wound at the hands of a good and virtuous woman whom I had honorably loved.
It was fortunate that at least two or three days were to elapse between my interview with Louisa Wolf and my coming face to face again with her treacherous son. Had I seen him immediately after the interview I might have conducted myself in an unbecoming manner, and it would have been good neither for him nor me. I had time on my homeward journey to reason with myself. "Shall I make myself unhappy," I thought, "shall I fret myself to a shadow because I have been maligned? Shall I allow such a rascal as Gideon Wolf to entirely destroy my peace and repose? That would, indeed, be giving him an advantage over me. Let me rather bear this stroke with equanimity, and be thankful that there are still some honest men left in the world." But it was poor comfort, and it needed all my philosophy to calm the turbulence of my feelings. So startling were the revelations! To think that all the money I had sent to his mother during the last ten years,to soften her lot, should have found its way into Gideon Wolf's pocket! And for him never to have given me the slightest cause for suspicion that this cunning game was being systematically carried on! It was a bit of trickery worthy of his friend Pretzel. The pair of knaves! It was well for him--yes, it was well for him that I did not meet him when I left his mother's cottage. I should have been tempted to break every bone in his body.
The latter part of the journey was by no means so enjoyable as the first. The familiar scenes and signs which had afforded me so much pleasure on my outward journey presented themselves in quite a different aspect. They appeared to have grown suddenly much older, to have become faded. What had happened to them? Had they, also, met with a bitter disappointment that they should so swiftly have lost the greater part of their beauty? The innkeeper's wife was scolding her baby, who was crying and kicking like a little demon; the woman herself was very plain-looking, and there was a sour expression on her face; the orchards were dusty, the ducks seemed discontented, as though they had eaten something which disagreed with them, the brooks and streams were not so bright, the pigeons flew with heavy wings, the children were listless in their movements, the hedges had lost their fragrance, the fir-trees on the heights bent sadly towards me. Thus do we gain and convey impressions according to our moods. A joyous heart can see the sun behind the clouds, and there is gladness in the brightest day. Yes, yes--a cheerful and contented spirit is man's best possession.