An Old Story of My Farming Days Volume I Part 6

but as a sweet little fee. Louisa helped her in this good work, and Frank, who sometimes accompanied them, saw to his surprise that the merry little maiden could at times look very grave and thoughtful, and that her great eyes rested on sick old women with the same comprehending and sympathetic compa.s.sion as they had done on him last Christmas-eve. He was glad to see that it was so, but he did not know why.

Spring was gone, and summer had come, when one Sunday morning Hawermann received a letter from Brasig dated from Warnitz, in which his friend requested him to remain at home that day, for he had returned and intended to call on him that afternoon. When Brasig arrived, he sprang from his saddle with so much force that one might have thought he wanted to go through the road with both legs. "Oho!" cried Hawermann, "how brisk you are! You're all right now, ar'n't you?"--"As right as a trivet, Charles. I've renewed my youth."--"Well, how have you been getting on, old boy?" asked Hawermann, when they were seated on the sofa and their pipes were lighted.--"Listen, Charles. Cold, damp, watery, clammy--that's about what it comes to. It's just turning a human being into a frog, and before a man's nature is so changed, he has such a hard time of it, that he begins to wish that he had come into the world a frog: still, it isn't a bad thing! You begin the day with the common packing, as they call it. They wrap you up in cold, damp sheets, and then in woollen blankets, in which they fasten you up so tight that you can't move any part of your body except your toes. In this condition they take you to a bath-room, and a man goes before you ringing a bell to warn the ladies to keep out of your way. Then they place you, just as G.o.d made you, in a bath, and dash three pails of water over your bald head--if you happen to have one, and after that they allow you to go away. Well, do you think that that's the end of it? Nay, Charles, there's more to follow: but it's a good thing all the same. Now you've got to go for a walk in a place where you've nothing earthly to do. I've been accustomed all my life to walk a great deal, but then it was doing something, ploughing or harrowing, spreading manure or cutting corn, and there I'd no occupation whatever. While walking you are expected to drink ever so many tumblers of water, ever so many. Some of the people were exactly like sieves, they were always at it, and they used to gasp out 'What splendid water it is!' Don't believe them, Charles, it is nothing but talk. Water applied externally is bad enough in all conscience, but internally it's still more horrible. Then comes the sitz-bath. Do you know what a bath at four degrees below zero is like? It's very much what you would feel if you were in h.e.l.l, and the devil had tied you down to a glowing iron chair, under which he kept up a roaring fire; still it's a good thing! Then you've to walk again till dinner-time. And now comes dinner. Ah, Charles, you have no idea what a human being goes through at a water-cure place! You've got to drink no end of water. Charles, I've seen ladies, small and thin as real angels, drink each of them three caraffes as large as laundry-pails at a sitting--and then the potatoes!

Good gracious, as many potatoes were eaten in a day as would have served to plant an acre of ground! These water-doctors are much to be pitied, their patients must eat them out of house and home. In the afternoon the water-drinking goes on as merrily as before, and you may now talk to the ladies if you like; but in the morning you may not approach them, for they are not then dressed for society. Before dinner some of them are to be seen running about with wet stockings, as if they had been walking through a field of clover, others have wet bandages tied round their heads, and all of them let their hair hang down over their shoulders, and wear a Fenus' girdle round their waists, which last, however, is not visible. But in the afternoon, as I said, you may talk to them as much as you like, but will most likely get short answers unless you speak to them about their health, and ask them how often they have been packed, and what effect it had on them, for that is the sort of conversation that is most approved of at a water-cure establishment. After amusing yourself in this way for a little you must have a touche (douche), that is a great rush of ice-cold water--and that's a good thing too. Above all, Charles, you must know that what every one most dislikes, and whatever is most intensely disagreeable is found to be wholesome and good for the const.i.tution."--"Then you ought to be quite cured of your gout," said Hawermann, "for of all things in the world cold water was what you always disliked the most."--"It's easy to see from that speech that you've never been at the water-cure, Charles. Listen--this is how the doctor explained the whole thing to me. That confounded gout is the chief of all diseases--in other words, it is the source of them all, and it proceeds from the gouty humour which is in the bones, and which simply tears one to pieces with the pain, and this gouty substance comes from the poisonous matter one has swallowed as food--for example k.u.mmel or tobacco--or as medicine at the apothecary's. Now you must understand that any one who has gout must, if he wishes to be cured, be packed in damp sheets, till the water has drawn all the tobacco he has ever smoked, and all the k.u.mmel he has ever drunk out of his const.i.tution. First the poisonous matter goes, then the gouty matter, and last of all the gout itself."--"And has it been so with you?"--"No."--"Why didn't you remain longer then? I should have stayed on, and have got rid of it once for all if I had been you."--"You don't know what you are talking about, Charles. No one could stand it, and no one has ever done it all at once.... But now let me go on with my description of our daily life.--After the touche you are expected to walk again, and by the time that is finished it has begun to grow dusk.

You may remain out later if you like, and many people do so, both gentlemen and ladies, or you may go into the house and amuse yourself by reading. I always spent the evening in studying the water-books written by an author named Franck, who is, I understand, at the head of his profession. These books explain the plan on which the water-doctors proceed, and give reasons for all they do; but it's very difficult to understand. I could never get further than the two first pages, and these were quite enough for me, for when I'd read them I felt as light-headed and giddy as if I had been standing on my head for half an hour. You imagine, no doubt, Charles, that the water in your well is water? He does not think so! Listen, fresh air is divided into three parts: oxygen, nitrogen, and black carbon; and water is divided into two parts: carbon and hydrogen. Now the whole water-cure the'ry is founded on water and air. And listen, Charles, just think of the wisdom of nature: when a human being goes out into the fresh air he inhales both black carbon and nitrogen through his windpipe, and as his const.i.tution can't stand the combination of these two dreadful things, the art of curing by water, steps in, and drives them out of his throat. And the way that it does so is this: the oxygen grapples with the carbon, and the hydrogen drives the nitrogen out of your body. Do you understand me, Charles?"--"No," said Hawermann laughing heartily, "you can hardly expect me to do that."--"Never laugh at things you don't understand, Charles. Listen--I have smelt the nitrogen myself, but as for the black carbon, what becomes of it? That is a difficult question, and I didn't get on far enough with the water-science to be able to answer it. Perhaps you think that parson Behrens could explain the matter to me, but no, when I asked him yesterday he said that he knew nothing about it. And now, Charles, you'll see that I've still got the black carbon in me, and that I shall have that beastly gout again."--"But, Zachariah, why didn't you remain a little longer and get thoroughly cured?"--"Because," and Brasig cast down his eyes, and looked uncomfortable, "I couldn't. Something happened to me. Charles,"

he continued, raising his eyes to his friend's face, "you've known me from my childhood, tell me, did you ever see me disrespectful to a woman?"--"No, Brasig, I can bear witness that I never did."--"Well, then, just think what happened. A week ago last Friday the gout was very troublesome in my great toe--you know it always begins by attacking the small end of the human wedge--and the water-doctor said: 'Mr. Bailiff,' he said, 'you must have an extra packing. Dr. Strump's colchic.u.m is the cause of this, and we must get rid of it.' Well, it was done; he packed me himself, and so tight that I had hardly room to breathe, telling me for my comfort that water was more necessary for me than air, and then he wanted to shut the window. 'No,' I said, 'I understand the the'ry well enough to know that I must have fresh air, so please leave the window open.' He did as I asked, and went away.[13]

I lay quite still in my compress thinking no evil, when suddenly I heard a great humming and buzzing in my ears, and when I could look up, I saw a swarm of bees streaming in at my window, preceded by their queen. I knew her well, Charles, for as you know I am a bee-keeper. One spring the school-master at Zittelwitz and I got fifty-seven in a field. I now saw that the queen was going to settle on the blanket which the doctor had drawn over my head. What was to be done? I couldn't move. I blew at her, and blew and blew till my breath was all gone. It was horrible! The queen settled right on the bald part of my head--for I had taken off my wig as usual to save it--and now the whole swarm flew at my face. That was enough for me. Quickly I rolled out of bed, freed myself from the blanket, wriggled out of the wet sheets, and reached the door, for the devil was at my heels. I got out at the door, and striking out at my a.s.sailants blindly and madly, shrieked for help.

G.o.d be praised and thanked for the existence of the water-doctor--his name is Ehrfurcht--he came to my rescue, and, taking me to another room, fetched me my clothes, and so after a few hours rest I was able to go down to the dining-room--_salong_ as they call it--but I still had half a bushel of bee-stings in my body. I began to speak to the gentlemen, and they did nothing but laugh. Why did they laugh, Charles?

You don't know, nor do I. I turned to one of the ladies, and spoke to her in a friendly way about the weather; she blushed. What was there in the weather to make her red? I can't tell, nor can you, Charles. I spoke to the lady who sings, and asked her very politely to let us hear the beautiful song which she sings every evening. What did she do, Charles? She turned her back upon me! I now busied myself with my own thoughts, but the water-doctor came up to me, and said courteously: 'Don't be angry with me, Mr. Bailiff, but you've made yourself very remarkable this afternoon.'--'How?' I asked.--'Miss von Hinkefuss was crossing the pa.s.sage when you ran out of your room, and she has told every one else in strict confidence.'--'And so,' I said, 'you give me no sympathy, the gentlemen laugh at me, and the ladies turn their pretty backs upon me. No, I didn't come here for that! If Miss von Hinkefuss had met _me_, if half a bushel of bee-stings had been planted in _her_ body, I should have asked her every morning with the utmost propriety how she was. But let her alone! There is no market where people can buy kind-heartedness! Come away, doctor, and pull the stings out of my body.'--He said he couldn't do it.--'What!' I asked, 'can't you pull bee-stings out of a man's skin?'--'No,' he said, 'that is to say, I _can_ do it, but I dare not, for that is an operation such as surgeons perform, and I have no diploma for surgery from the Mecklenburg government.'--'What?' I asked, 'you are allowed to draw gout out of my bones, but it is illegal for you to draw a bee-sting out of my skin? You dare not meddle with the outer skin which you can see, and yet you presume to attack my internal maladies which you can't see?

_Thank_ you!'--Well, Charles, from that moment I lost all faith in the water-doctor, and without faith they can do nothing as they themselves tell you when it comes to the point. So I went away quietly and got old Metz, the surgeon at Rahnstadt, to draw out the stings. That was the end of the water-cure; still it's a good thing; one gets new ideas in a place like that, and even if one's gout is not cured, one gains some notion of what a human being can suffer. And now, Charles, this is a water-book I have brought you, you can study it in the winter-evenings."--Hawermann thanked him, and the conversation was changed to farming, and then to the two apprentices.--"Well," asked Brasig, "how's your pupil, Mr. von Rambow, getting on?"--"Very well, indeed, Brasig, he's getting to understand the work, I'm only sorry I can't have him more with me. He does what he has to do without loss of time, and more than that, I know from Daniel Sadenwater that he spends many a night by my old master's sick-bed, even though he must often be very tired. He's like the man mentioned in the Bible whose hand always finds something to do, and whose heart is full of love."--"Well, Charles, your greyhound?"--"Oh, he isn't so bad, he has a lot of maggots in his head, but there's no harm in him. He does what he is told, though he's sometimes a little forgetful--but so were we at his age."--"The best thing about your lads is that they are strong. I was at Christian Klockmann's, and he has a son of fourteen who isn't at all well. He complains of feeling tired all day long, and is always half asleep. He won't eat at proper times, and when out in the fields always wants something to eat."--"Oh, no," said Hawermann, "my boys are not like that."--"And so Mr. Frank watches by the old gentleman at night,"

said Brasig, "that's pretty hard work for him. Then the _Counsellor_ must be really ill. Remember me to him, Charles. And now good-by, I must be going, for my lord, the Count, wants to see me about particular business." And Brasig rode away.

The squire had grown very weak in the last few days, he had had another slight stroke, but fortunately it had not affected his speech, and that evening Frank asked Hawermann to go up to the manor-house, for his uncle wanted to speak to him.

The bailiff found Fidelia in the sick-room trying to amuse her father by telling him this or that little incident in her lively girlish way.--Alas, poor thing, she little knew that her father would soon be beyond the reach of her voice. The squire desired her to leave him alone with Hawermann, and as soon as she was gone, he looked at the bailiff sorrowfully, and said: "Hawermann, dear Hawermann, when our greatest joys cease to affect us, it shows that the end is at hand."--Hawermann looked at him earnestly and could not hide from himself that the worst would soon come, for he had often seen death before, so he bent his eyes sadly on the ground, and asked: "Wasn't the doctor here to-day?"--"Ah, Hawermann, the _doctor_. What good can he do? I'd rather have Mr. Behrens with me now.--But first of all I want to speak to you on business of importance. Sit down there beside me."--When the bailiff was seated the Squire went on quickly and brokenly as if he felt that his time was as short as his breath. "My will is in Schwerin. I have thought of everything, but--when my illness came on so suddenly--and my wife's death too--I am afraid that my affairs are not in such good order as they ought to be."--After a few minutes rest he went on. "My son will have the estate, and my two married daughters have received their share, but the three unmarried ones--poor children!--I have been able to do very little for them.

Alick must help them--and alas, he will have enough to do to provide for himself. He writes that he wishes to remain in the army for a few years longer--it would be quite right for him to do so, if he would only live economically--he could then save some of his farming profits--to pay his debts.--But the Jew, Hawermann, the Jew! Will he wait do you think? Did you speak?"--"No, Sir; but Moses will wait; I am quite sure that he will wait. And even if he does not, a great deal of money can be raised on the estate, far more than would have been possible a few years ago."--"Yes, yes. Land has increased in value very much. But still--Alick knows nothing about farming--I have made Frank send him numbers of agricultural books--he ought to study them--they would be of great service to him, would they not, Hawermann?"--"Ah,"

said Hawermann to himself, "my old master would never have trusted to mere book knowledge when he was well, he was far too practical and wise to have done such a thing; but there is no use troubling him now if the thought comforts him." So the bailiff only said that he thought so too.--"And, dear old friend, you will remain with him," entreated the Squire, "give me your hand, and promise that you will remain with him."--"Yes," said Hawermann, his eyes full of tears, "I will not leave Pumpelhagen as long as I can be of use to you or yours."--"I knew it,"

said his master, sinking back upon his pillow exhausted; "but--Fidelia must write--I must see him again--see him with you."--His strength was going fast, and his breathing had become heavy and gasping.

Hawermann rose softly and rang the bell, and when Daniel Sadenwater came, he drew him into the ante-room: "Sadenwater, our master is much worse, I don't think it can last long now, you had better call the young ladies and their cousin; but don't say anything too certainly."--A sad look came over the old servant's calm face, stirring it as the evening breeze pa.s.sing over the quiet waters of a lake. He looked in at the half open door of the sick-room sorrowfully, and murmured as though he wished to excuse himself to himself: "Oh G.o.d! And I have served him for thirty years ...." And then he turned and went away.

Frank and the young ladies came in.--The poor girls had no idea how quickly the stone was rolling down hill now, they had always felt so certain that their father would get better, that the doctor would cure him, or if it were beyond his power, that G.o.d would do so. They had hitherto taken it in turn to watch by their father, and why were they all sent for at once, and here were Frank, Hawermann and Daniel too?--"Oh G.o.d! what is ..... what is .....?" asked Fidelia turning anxiously to the old bailiff.--Hawermann took her hand and pressed it: "Your father," he could not have said "the Squire" at such a moment, "is much worse; he is very ill, and wishes to see your brother .... Mr.

von Rambow; if you will write him a line and tell him, the coachman can post the letter on his way to fetch the doctor. Your brother may be here in three days time."--"It can hardly last three hours," said Sadenwater who joined Hawermann in the ante-room.

The three daughters sat or stood round their father's bed weeping silently, for they saw that they would soon lose him who had been their comfort and support all their lives, and their heart beats quicker and quicker as they tried to think of something that would keep him a little longer amongst them, while his heart beat more faintly and slowly every minute.

Frank sat in the ante-room and listened to every sound, and now and then joined his cousins in the sick-room for a few minutes. He had never before seen a human life ebbing away, and his thoughts turned to his own father, whom he had always pictured to himself as resembling his uncle, and he felt as if he were losing his father for the second time. He sorrowed for his cousin Alick who was absent, and who could not possibly arrive in time.--Hawermann stood by the open window and looked out into the night. It was just such a sweet calm night as that one long ago when his heart was full of grief. His wife had pa.s.sed away then--and now his friend was going. Who would be the next?--Would it be his turn, or ...? Only G.o.d could answer that question, for all things are in His hands.--And Daniel Sadenwater sat by the stove with a basket on his knee containing the silver forks and spoons he had burnished every evening for thirty years. On a chair beside him were a piece of chamois-leather and a blue checked pocket-handkerchief, and he alternately rubbed up the silver with the one, and dried his eyes with the other; but when he came to the fork which had his master's name upon it, and which he had cleaned every evening for thirty years there was such a mist before his eyes that he could not see whether it was bright or dull, so he put the basket down by his side, and sat staring at the fork while the tears ran down his cheeks and his heart was full of the unspoken question: "Who will use it now?"

During all this time of restless sorrow, the pendulum of the old clock on the wall kept up its measured beat as though time were sitting by the bed rocking her tired child gently and surely to sleep--his last sleep. At length it came, and the Squire's eyes were for ever closed, the dark curtain separating here from hereafter had fallen softly, and on this side of it the three daughters wept aloud for him who was gone from amongst them, and wrung their hands as they mourned the sorrow that had come. Fidelia threw herself on her father's body with a pa.s.sionate burst of crying that ended in a fit of hysterics, and Frank, full of compa.s.sion, took her in his arms and carried her out of the room. The two elder sisters followed, their hearts filled with a new sorrow, fear for their darling. Hawermann on being left alone with Daniel Sadenwater, quietly closed his master's eyes, and then went away with a heavy heart, while Daniel, still holding the fork in his hand, seated himself at the foot of the bed, and turned his calm face on his master's which was even calmer than his own.

CHAPTER IX.

Three days later Alick arrived, too late to see his father, but not too late to pay him the last honours. The postilion blew the usual cheery blast on his horn as they drove into the court-yard, and three pale women dressed in black at once appeared in the doorway of the manor-house.--What is our grief to the rest of the world?--The young Squire soon got to understand his real situation, for the full weight of all the disagreeables of his position, whether caused by his own fault or not fell upon him at once: the visitation of G.o.d, his own ignorance and folly, the poverty of his sisters and his powerlessness to help them, and the memory of his father's love and kindness which had never failed in good or evil days. These things all weighed upon him. It was his nature to feel a sort of nervous irritation when things went ill with him, even when matters were not so grave as they now were. He sighed and bemoaned himself, and asked again and again why this or that was the case, and when he heard from Frank that his father's last words had been spoken in private to Hawermann, he called the old bailiff aside and questioned him as to what had pa.s.sed between them. Hawermann told him the whole truth, making him understand that his father's last trouble had been uneasiness about his future, and whether he would be able by good management of his estate to keep himself and his sisters.

Yes, of course he would do that! He swore to himself that he would do it when a short time afterwards he was alone in the garden; he would double his profits, he would live quietly, would do without society, and would not join in the extravagant amus.e.m.e.nts of his brother officers. He could do that easily, quite easily, but he could not leave the army as Hawermann proposed, and go somewhere to learn farming thoroughly; no, _that_ was impossible, he was too old for that, and then too it would be derogatory to his position as an officer, and besides that, it was unnecessary. When he came to live at home he would soon get into the way of it all, and meanwhile he would live economically, would pay his debts, and would study the agricultural works his old father had had so much at heart.

Thus it is that people deceive themselves, often even at the gravest and most important time in their lives.

The funeral took place on the following day. No invitations were given, but the Squire had been so much loved and respected that a number of the neighbours attended of their own free will. Brasig's master, the Count, came amongst others, and showed by his manner that he thought it a great honour to be allowed to be present. Brasig was there also, he stood near the coffin, and when everyone else cast down their eyes, he raised his, and when Hawermann pa.s.sed near him, he caught him by the coat and whispered: "Ah, Charles, what is human life?" He said no more, but Joseph Nussler who was standing beside him, muttered: "What can anyone do now?"--Round about them were the villagers, all the Pegels and Degels, and Pasels and Dasels were there, and when Mr. Behrens came in with the youngest daughter by his side, and standing by the coffin gave a short address which touched the hearts even of the strangers present, many tears were shed by old eyes for the kind master who was gone. They were tears of grat.i.tude to the old Squire, and of fear lest the young Squire might not resemble his father.

When the address was finished the procession moved off to the church-yard. The coffin was placed in a carriage, and Daniel Sadenwater took his seat beside it, and sat there as stiff and motionless, even to the calm serenity of his face, as if he had all his life been a monument at the head of his master's grave. Then came the carriage containing the young Squire and his three sisters, then the Count's carriage, then the clergyman and Frank who tried to persuade Hawermann to go with them, but he refused, saying that he wished to accompany the labourers, then several more carriages, then Joseph Nussler, and lastly Hawermann on foot with Brasig and the villagers.

When they got to Gurlitz, Brasig stooped towards Hawermann and whispered: "I have it now, Charles."--"What have you got, Zachariah?"--"The pension from my lord the Count. When I left you after my last visit, I rode straight to him and got it all right, padagraph by padagraph, thirty-seven pounds ten a year, ten-thousand peats, and rooms in the mill-house at Haunerwiem rent free, and besides that, I am to have a small garden for vegetables, and a bit of potato-ground."--"I'm glad to hear it, Zachariah. You'll be able to spend your old age there very comfortably."--"Yes, indeed, Charles, especially when I add to that the interest of the money I have saved.

But why are we stopping?"--"They are going to take the coffin out of the carriage," said Hawermann. He then turned to the villagers, and said: "Kegel, Pasel! You'd better go now, my lads, and help to carry the coffin." He went forward with the men to make the necessary arrangements. Brasig followed him.

Meanwhile the mourners had all got out of the carriage, and when Alick and his three sisters were standing on the road little Mrs. Behrens and Louisa Hawermann, who were both dressed in black joined them, and Mrs.

Behrens with heart-felt compa.s.sion pressed the hands of the two elder ladies who had hitherto always held themselves aloof from her, because they were so much impressed with the dignity of their social position--but death and sorrow make all men equal, the great and mighty of the earth bow beneath the hand of G.o.d, for they feel that they are nothing in comparison with Him, and at such times the lowly come forward to meet them, for they know that the sympathy which they show comes from G.o.d.--To-day David Dasel had had the pleasure of shaking hands with the ladies, and they had had the comfort of seeing in his honest face and tearful eyes how truly he grieved for them.--Louisa threw her arms round her friend, Miss Fidelia, and not knowing how to express her sympathy with her, contented herself with saying: "There!"

with a deep sigh, as she thrust a bunch of red and white roses into her hand, and while doing so she looked at her friend as much as to say that she intended the flowers, which were her greatest treasures to be a sign of her loving sympathy.

All eyes were turned on the child of fourteen--but was she still a child?--Are those only buds, or are the leaves really showing when the birch-tree shimmers green after a warm shower of rain in May? And as for the human soul, it puts forth its leaves when first under the influence of some strong feeling, in like manner as the birch after rain. "Who is that?" Alick asked his cousin who was staring at the child.--"Who is that young girl, Frank?" he asked again, touching his cousin's arm.--"That young girl?" asked Frank as if he could hardly take away his eyes from her, "that child, you mean? She is Mr.

Hawermann's daughter."--The bailiff was also watching her, and as he did so he remembered his thoughts on the night of the Squire's death. "No," he said to himself, "surely the Lord won't do that."--Nonsense!--She was not ill. Oh G.o.d, if she had inherited her mother's const.i.tution, his poor wife had had just such beautiful rosy cheeks.--"I say, just look!" said Brasig rousing him out of his reverie.--"It _is_ him! Just look, Charles, here's Samuel Pomuchelskopp! And he has got on a black swallow-tail coat!"

He was right.--Pomuchelskopp advanced and made as low a bow to the ladies as his short stature would permit, then turning to the lieutenant: "Pardon me--neighbourly friendship--_extreme_ sympathy with you on this melancholy occasion--_greatest_ respect for the late Mr.

von Rambow--hope that there may be friendship between Pumpelhagen and Gurlitz"--In short he said whatever occurred to him on the spur of the moment, and when the young Squire had thanked him for his attention, he felt as happy as if he had bestowed all possible sympathy. He then pa.s.sed the whole procession under review, and when he found that the Count was the only other landed proprietor there, he edged himself amongst the people so that he should at least come immediately behind him, and as they proceeded to the church-yard he took care to put his feet down on the foot-prints of his aristocratic acquaintance, and this, though a matter of complete indifference to the Count, was a great pleasure to him.

The funeral was over.--The mourners a.s.sembled for a short time at the parsonage. Little Mrs. Behrens was torn in two by conflicting feelings, for on the one hand she would have liked to have joined the three Miss von Rambows on the sofa, and to have comforted them; and on the other hand she wanted to move about the room, and offer the cake and wine to her guests, but as Louisa had undertaken the latter, and her pastor the former duty, she sat as despondingly in her large arm-chair as if old Mr. Metz the surgeon had been sewing the two halves together again, and she was still suffering from the pain of the operation.

Louisa had done her part, and the guests were all going away one after the other; Joseph Nussler, who was one of the last, made a half bow to the lieutenant, and then going up to Mrs. Behrens pressed her hand as emphatically as if it had been her father who had just died, and said sorrowfully: "Ah yes, it all depends upon circ.u.mstances!"--The parson had also done his part as well as he could, but it is much easier to satisfy the hungry stomach with food and wine than to feed the hungry heart with hope and courage. He gently led the Miss von Rambows from thoughts of the past to thoughts of the future, and helped them to lay out a plan for their new life. He advised them as to what was best and wisest for them to do, and as to where they should live, so that when they went away with their brother they had gained courage to face what was before them and consult how they could best arrange their future lives so as to make the two ends meet.

But other people were also trying to shape the future after their own fashion. There were not only flowers of mourning and sorrow growing on the Counsellor's grave, but thistles, nettles and weeds of all kinds were to be found there sown by the lost happiness of Pumpelhagen, and surrounding all was a thick border of usurer's daisies.[14] He who would reap that harvest must have no fear of being stung by the nettles. He who has to deal with nettles must grasp them firmly, and the man dressed in green-checked trousers, who is now standing in Gurlitz garden and looking down upon Pumpelhagen will seize them boldly, but he must wait till the right moment comes. The usurer's daisies must have time to grow and bear seed.

"_That_ stone is well out of my way now," he thought with a smile of satisfaction, "and it was the cornerstone.--Who is there now?--The lieutenant?--We'll soon manage him, we'll give him plenty of money on mortgages, renew his bills, and in short gradually lead him on, and then we'll have it all our own way. Or, let me see? Mally is a pretty girl; or Sally; she would do as well. Mr. von Zwippelwitz said the other day when I was lending him money to buy the sorrel-colt, that Sally's eyes were like--what was it he said? fire wheels, or torches?--but it doesn't much matter, Sally will remember.--I know how to deal with people of this kind now, and there's no fear of my being taken in.--He'd only do it if his affairs were in a desperate condition; safe is safe.--Always keep a tight hold of the purse strings!--If he ever does it there'll be no end of a fuss made; but he'll never consent till he's at the last gasp.--And what else?--Hawermann.--The cunning scoundrel!--What?--This very morning.--He made no sign that he had ever seen me before!--Did he really think that I should have bowed first?--A fellow like that!--Why he is in service!--Wait a bit, once let me have the upper hand of the lieutenant and you shall see my friend!--And then Brasig.--The rascal!--Does he mean to put another stumbling-block in my way?--Ha, ha! It's a great joke, the old fool doesn't know that it was I who had him turned out of Warnitz, that the attorney, acting under my directions, gave the Count a hint that the farming at Warnitz was disgracefully bad.--So there Brasig, you are well out of my way now at Haunerwiem.--And the parson!--Yes, Mr. Behrens.--I was asked to go into his house to-day, and we were so civil to each other.--Oh! _I_ know your civility!--There are the glebe-lands right before me.--What?--Deny me your glebe, and then offer me civility!--Ah! Just wait a little, and I'll get the better of you all, for I have the power to do so.--I have _money_."--And with that he slapped his breeches pocket with his fat hand in the joy of his heart till the gold seals on his watch-chain danced like a tailor on a meal-tub, but suddenly he became quiet, for a hard hand tapped him on the shoulder and Henny said: "Muchel, you are wanted"--"Who is it, my chuck?" asked Pomuchelskopp very gently, for his wife's presence always subdued him.--"Attorney Slus'uhr, and David the son of old Moses."--"Capital, capital!" said Pomuchelskopp throwing his arm round his Henny's waist, so that he looked exactly like a cuc.u.mber hanging to a hop-pole. "Just look at Pumpelhagen; what a fine place it is! Isn't it a shame that it's in such hands?--That both these men should have come to-day is almost like the leading of Providence, isn't it, my chick?"--"Ah, it's a toss up, Kopp!--You'd better try something more likely; but come and speak to those people. Plans such as you were talking about are too long in coming to pa.s.s to please me."--"Never be in too great a hurry, too great a hurry, chuck," said Pomuchelskopp as he followed his wife to the house.

Slus'uhr and David were standing in Pomuchelskopp's room, and David was going through a sort of martyrdom. When he set out that day he had unfortunately put his large signet-ring on his finger, and fastened his gold watch-chain across his waist-coat, and, in spite of his unwonted grandeur, when he entered the room he placed himself modestly with his back to the window, but Philipp Pomuchelskopp caught sight of the ring, and Tony of the shining chain, so they fell upon David's jewelry like a couple of ravens, and pulled at the ring and tugged at the chain, and while Tony danced upon David's splay feet, Phil who had one knee on a chair kicked his shins which were his weak point. His flat feet might be likened to arable land in March, on which the devil had sown a goodly crop of corns; and his shins had to be tenderly treated because they alone supported the weight of his body, as nature had not endowed him with calves to help them in this necessary duty.--The attorney was standing in the other window in front of Sally's chair. That young lady was busy making a sofa cushion for her father in tent-st.i.tch. Her work represented a picture of country life. There was a long barn, and beside it a plum-tree on which were hanging blue plums as large as your fist; in front of the barn several hens and a c.o.c.k with brilliant plumage were scratching the ground, beyond the fowls was a pond on which were swimming ducks and geese that were white and beautiful as swans, and in the foreground was an immense pig, fat and ready for the butcher.--Old Moses was right, the attorney was the very image of a rat, his ears were set on his head in the same way as a rat's, and he was small and thin like all the rats in Rahnstadt which had not been fattened in David's warehouse. His complexion was yellow-grey, his eyes were yellow-grey, and his hair and moustache were yellow-grey, but Mally and Sally Pomuchelskopp declared that he was very interesting--Brasig called it, interested--he could talk so pleasantly.--It was natural that the attorney should like talking of his own cleverness better than of the folly of other people, for no business man ever likes to point out a good thing to other people till he has got all that he can out of it. And how could the attorney help it, if his cleverness was so great that it could not be hidden? Was it his fault if his cleverness grew so much that there was no room in his soul to contain both it and that stupid little virtue honesty, so that the latter had to be cast out neck and crop?--We men cannot judge such matters fairly--rats are rats--and as David himself said when rats were mentioned: They are too much for me.

This afternoon, he was telling with great glee how he had promised to provide a silly fool with a rich wife, and how he had fleeced him every time he sent him to pay his court to some impossible person till at last the stupid idiot had lost almost everything he possessed.--"How very interesting," t.i.ttered Sally as Pomuchelskopp came into the room, saying: "Ah, here you are!--Glad to see you Mr. Slus'uhr.--How d'ye do, David!"--Sally was still in fits of laughter, but as father Pomuchelskopp signed towards the door with his head, she collected her plums, fowls, ducks, geese and pig, and then saying: "Come away, Tony and Phil, father's busy," left the room with her brothers.

Pomuchelskopp was always said to be "busy" when he was working amongst his crop of usurer's daisies.

"Mr. Pomuchelskopp," said David, "I've come about the skins, and I wanted to speak to you about the wool.--I had a letter ....."--"Why, what's all this about? wool and skins!" cried the attorney. "You can arrange that afterwards.--We've come about the business you know of."--Anyone could see that the attorney was a new-fashioned man of business who did not like to waste time with a long preface, but who always came to the point at once, and Mr. Pomuchelskopp no doubt liked a man of this kind, who grasped his nettles boldly, for he went up to him, and shaking his hand warmly made him sit on the sofa beside him.--"Yes," he said, "it's a difficult matter and will take a long time to settle."--"Hm!--That depends upon how long we hold out. And difficult?--I've done harder things before now. David has bills to the amount of three hundred and seventy-five pounds. I myself sent him a hundred and twenty-five pounds last term. Will you have the bills? Here they are."--"It's a good investment," said Pomuchelskopp smoothly, and rising he paid down ready money for the papers the attorney had brought.--"Will you have mine too?" asked David.--"Yes, I'll take them," said Pomuchelskopp as benignantly as if he were bestowing a great favour on the world at large. "But gentleman," he continued, as he counted out the money, "I have one stipulation to make. You must let him think that you owe me the full amount of these bills and must have the money. Just give him a fright, you understand, for if he is left too quiet, he'll have all his wits about him and will slip out of our hands, for he can easily raise money elsewhere."--"Yes," said the attorney, "that isn't a bad plan, I could easily do that; but David has something to tell you that you ought to know."--"Yes," said David, "I have had a letter from Mark Seelig in P---- where Mr. von Rambow's regiment is stationed, and he tells me that he can see you three hundred pounds worth of the lieutenant's bills. And if you like to have them, why not buy?"--"Hm!" said Pomuchelskopp, "it's a large sum to pay at once--but--well you can buy the bills."--"I also have a stipulation to make," said David, "you must sell me the wool."--"Why not?" asked the attorney pressing his client's foot with his own. "Why shouldn't he go and look at it now?"--And Pomuchelskopp took the hint, and civilly showed David out that he might go and inspect the purchase he intended to make, and when he returned to his seat the attorney laughed and said: "We understand each other."--"What do you mean?" asked Pomuchelskopp startled.--"I have known what you were after all along, my fine fellow, and if you'll come down handsomely you may do what you like for all I care."--How frightfully sharp the rascal was!

Pomuchelskopp was breathless. "Mr. Slus'uhr, I don't deny ....."--"You needn't explain; it isn't necessary; we can understand each other quite well without that. If matters go as they ought you will be owner of Pumpelhagen before very long, and David will have his percentage, and I--well I could do the business on my own account, but the place is a little too large for me--a mill or a farm would suit me better than such an enormous estate.--It will cost you no end of money."--"That it will indeed; but never mind. It makes me miserable to see a fine property like that in such inefficient hands."

The attorney peered at him out at the corner of his eye, as much as to say: are you in earnest?--"What's the matter? Why are you looking at me?"--"Ah!" said Slus'uhr, laughing, "you amused me. Two may play at the same game. You don't really think that you can bring an estate like Pumpelhagen into the market, by buying up bills to the extent of a few hundred pounds? You'll have to do much more than that, you must get all the mortgages on the property into your own hands."--"I intend to do so," whispered Pomuchelskopp. "But how am I to get possession of the bond for a thousand and fifty pounds which old Moses holds? I'm afraid there's no hope."--"_I_'ll have nothing to do with Moses, I can tell you; but there's David, you might get him to manage it. Still, that's nothing to what will have to be done. You ought to make up to the lieutenant, pretend to wish him well, and lend him money yourself now and then when he's in a worse fix than usual, and then you should be hard up in your turn, and be obliged to sell his bills--to me if you like--and if you do that I will touch him up a bit, and at length when the time for the crash comes--you ...."--"Yes, yes," whispered Pomuchelskopp excitedly, "I'll do it, but I should like to have him at home first, so you must give him no peace about the bills till he is forced by the state of his affairs to leave the army."--"Oh, that's easy enough to manage. If you don't want anything more difficult than that, it'll all be plain sailing."--"Ah, but there is something else,"

whispered Pomuchelskopp, "_there's Hawermann_; as long as he is in that puppy's confidence we shall make no way."--"How stupid you are!"

laughed the attorney. "Did you ever hear of a young man confiding his money-troubles unreservedly to an old friend? No, no! And it's just as well for us that they never do. If that is all, Hawermann may stay as long as he likes at Pumpelhagen; but wait a moment--perhaps it would be better that he should go--he's too good a farmer--if he makes Pumpelhagen pay as well for the future as it has done during the last few years, it will be a long time before it slips out of the lieutenant's hands."--"Hawermann a good farmer!--He!--Why he tried it for himself once and failed!"--"You do him injustice there. It is a great mistake to think your opponent weaker than he really is. He must go."--"Yes, but how are we to get rid of him?"--"_I_ can't help you there," laughed the attorney, "but you can manage it when you are providing the lieutenant with the golden sovereigns he needs so much. A well-directed hint as to the bailiff's being too old for his place would have a good effect. The devil will prompt you when the time comes."--"That's all very well," said Pomuchelskopp impatiently, "but it's slow work, and my wife is always in such a hurry."--"In this case she'll have to wait quietly," said the attorney with calm decision. "An affair of this kind can't be settled in a day. Remember how long Pumpelhagen has belonged to the von Rambow family; you can't expect to get it away from them at a moment's notice. But now--hush! I hear David coming, and he must not know what we have been talking about. You understand, he is to know of nothing but that you like taking up good bills."

When David entered the room he saw before him a couple of happy faces; Pomuchelskopp was laughing as if the attorney had been making a good joke, and the attorney was laughing as if Pomuchelskopp had been telling an amusing story. But David was not half so stupid as he looked at that moment, he knew that he had been sent out of the way, and that his colleagues were laughing at something very different from a joke.--"They have _their_ secrets," he said to himself, "and I have _mine_."--So he seated himself at the opposite side of the table to Pomuchelskopp, and said with the most stupidly unconcerned expression in the world, such as only a Jewish rogue can put on: "I've seen it."--"Well?" asked Pomuchelskopp.--"Hm!" said David, shrugging his shoulders, "you say that it has been washed. Well--perhaps it has."--"What, don't you believe me? Isn't it as white as swan's-down?"--"Humph! If you ever saw swan's-down like it, perhaps it may be like swan's-down."--"What is your offer?"--"Look here! We had a better from Lowenthal in Hamburg--the great house of Lowenthal in Hamburg--the price per stone is two pounds three and sixpence."--"Yes, I know all that; you always get them to write you some scoundrelly nonsense of that kind."--"A house like that of Lowenthal never advises one of anything that is not true."--"Come, come," interrupted the attorney, "this isn't business, it's quarrelling. Suppose you send for a couple of bottles of wine, Pomuchelskopp, and then you'll both manage to strike a bargain more easily."--Mr. Slus'uhr insisted on his plan being acceded to, and the squire had to obey; he rang the bell, and when Stina Dorothy came in, he said politely and confidentially--for he was always polite to the members of his own household, above all to the women, from his Henny down to the nursery-maid:--"Bring two bottles of wine, Dorothy; the blue seal you know."

When the wine was put on the table Pomuchelskopp filled three gla.s.ses, then taking his, he emptied it at a draught, David merely smelt his, and when the attorney had finished his gla.s.s, he said: "Now, gentlemen, I've got something to say to you," and as he spoke, he winked across the table at David, and pressed Pomuchelskopp's foot under the table.

"Suppose, David, you consent to give two pounds five per stone, and you Pomuchelskopp--pressing his foot again--don't want ready money, a bill to be paid on S. Antony's day would suit you better if the security is good."--"Yes," said Pomuchelskopp taking the hint, "and if you give me your father's bond on Pumpelhagen, the security is so good, that I'll give you the overplus of the wool-money into the bargain"--"There's nothing to object to in that," said David. "But how about the lumpy wool?"--No attention was paid to his remark, so he repeated: "How about the lumpy wool?"--"Oh that," said Pomuchelskopp, "of course you'll only pay me half...."--"Stop," interrupted the attorney. "You'll get the lumpy wool for nothing if you bring the bond."--"I don't see anything against that," said David. When they had finished the wine, and were going out to their carriage, the attorney whispered jocosely to Pomuchelskopp: "David might begin the attack on the lieutenant to-morrow, and next week I can look him up myself."--Pomuchelskopp pressed his hand as gratefully as if he had just saved Phil from drowning. As soon as his visitors were gone he went back to his Henny, and with her a.s.sistance they soon arranged the future to their satisfaction. The attorney sat in the carriage smiling at his good day's work, he was pleased with himself, for he saw that he was cleverer than either of the other two; and David sat by his side, and said to himself: "Let them be. They have their secrets, but I have the lumpy wool!"

But he had reckoned without his host! When he got home and told his father of the bargain he had made, and asked for the Pumpelhagen bond, Moses looked over his shoulder at him, and said: "So, you went with that cut-throat, the attorney, to visit Pom.u.f.felskopp--who is another cut-throat--and bought his wool; then all that I've got to say is: you can pay for it with _your own_ bonds, for you shall have none of _mine_. _You_ may do business with rats if you like, but _I_'ll have nothing to do with them."--So David's chance of getting the lumpy wool was small.

CHAPTER X.

That made it worse, much worse for the poor lieutenant next morning when David was shown into his room. No one could accuse David of being softhearted--not even his own mother--but he had changed very much since Mr. von Rambow had last seen him. He had had some sort of human kindness in his expression when he was counting out the gold the lieutenant wanted in attorney Slus'uhr's office; but now that he had come to ask for his money he looked so hard and cruel that the young man was half frightened even before he knew for what he had come. And then there was nothing for it but to renew the bill, for David insisted on its either being renewed or paid at once, adding, "very well then, Sir, just sign this paper and it will do." When this was done David's face relaxed, and became what it had been on their first acquaintance.

"Thank G.o.d! that's over now," thought the lieutenant. But a few days later a carriage drove into the court, and attorney Slus'uhr was seated in it.--"Merciful Heaven!" sighed Hawermann, shaking his head, "has he got into his clutches too?"--And when the attorney was shown into the lieutenant's room, he also exclaimed: "Merciful Heaven!" on seeing his visitor. Still, this was a less painful piece of business than with David, for the attorney was a more respectable looking man, and easier to talk to; his clothes were always clean and neat, and even handsome, and he had the art of making his conversation in keeping with his dress--as long as it was his interest to do so. The lieutenant made him sit down on the sofa, and ordered coffee, and it seemed at first as if they were going to have a pleasant conversation about the weather, and the neighbourhood, and human wickedness--the attorney had a great deal to say on that head, for he had all his life been accustomed to look at the failings of others, and never at his own. "Yes," he said, in allusion to a certain tradesman in Rahnstadt, "only think, Mr. von Rambow, of the wickedness of that man. In the kindness of my heart I gave that man--that is to say, that not having so much money of my own, I had to borrow some at a large percentage--well, as I was saying, I lent him enough money to free him from his difficulties, and he was very grateful--but _now_, when I want to have it again,--_must_ have it--he turns up on me, and threatens to have me tried at law for asking too high a percentage."--Naturally the attorney said no more on that part of the subject, he had only mentioned it to give the lieutenant a fright, and it did not fail in having the required effect. In order to turn the subject, the young man asked what kind of shop the tradesman had. The attorney, however, was too well up to his work to allow himself to be put off, so he answered the question shortly, and then went on: "But I have gone to law with him instead, and now he'll see what will happen---his credit is gone--and then the scandal! I never went to law with one of my clients before, but he has himself to thank for it. What do you think?"--It was thus that the attorney carried the war into Mr. von Rambow's country, and the poor young fellow prepared to receive the attack that was to be made on him. He coughed, and moved about restlessly, but said nothing, for he did not know what to say. It was all the same to the attorney, who only brought his battery a little nearer: "But, thank G.o.d, I hav'n't always such rascals to deal with. He is quite an exception. By the way, as we are talking of money," here he drew out his pocketbook, "allow me to return you your bill," and he handed the lieutenant the bill for a hundred and twenty-five pounds, and as he did so he p.r.i.c.ked his rat-like ears, his grey eyes stood out more prominently than usual from his yellow-grey face, and he licked his dry lips in the same way as his prototype does at the sight of a nice bit of fat bacon. Our poor lieutenant took the bill, and tried to deceive the lawyer by putting on an indifferent manner. Yes, he said, he would take the bill, and would send the money; he had started for Pumpelhagen so suddenly, and the cause of his coming was so sad that he had not thought of bringing money with him to meet the bill.--Ah, replied Slus'uhr, he could quite believe that, he remembered so well when _his_ father died; yes, at such a time it was impossible to think of anything but the loss one had sustained.--And as he said this he put on such a pitying expression that the lieutenant felt renewed courage--but, added the attorney, he had been obliged to look forward to the punctual payment of this bill, for he was much in want of money as he had to pay up a large sum at once--and so he must have the bill discharged.--"But this is such little money," interrupted Alick.--"Yes--yes," said the attorney slowly, and at the same time taking some more papers from his pocket-book. "These are also for small sums," laying on the table before him the bills for upwards of three hundred pounds, which David had bought in the town where the lieutenant's regiment was stationed.--Alick was startled out of his pretended indifference: "How do you come by these papers?" he cried.--"Surely, Mr. von Rambow," was the answer, "you are aware that it is the nature of bills to change hands in course of business, therefore it ought not to surprise you that I should have accepted these in lieu of money, more especially as it saved me a great deal of trouble in writing, and at the post-office."--The lieutenant felt more uncomfortable than even at first, but still he had not the faintest suspicion of the plot against him. "But, Mr. Slus'uhr," he said, "I hav'n't got the money at this moment."--"You hav'n't!" cried the attorney, glaring at him as much as to say that he suspected him of being in league with the devil to play him false. "No, no," he added, "I don't believe that."--What could the lieutenant say now. The attorney had looked him full in the face, and had told him coolly that he didn't believe what he said, that he could pay if he would. At length the beautiful old plan of putting off the evil day was agreed to. The lieutenant would gladly have arranged it so before, but the attorney would not at first consent, for he wanted to taste the full enjoyment of his position, and to make a better bargain for himself than David had done. His happiest moments were those when he could say to himself: I am far cleverer than any of my neighbours, I can set down my foot on gentle and simple, and I delight in seeing them writhing under my tread.

These were the troubles and anxieties which weighed upon Alick von Rambow, and disturbed him in his mourning for his father. The soul can fight its way through G.o.d-sent sorrows however deep and agonizing they may be. When it at length reaches port after having done battle manfully with the mighty billows of that wide and eternal sea, it is strengthened and purified by what it has gone through, and is able to face life again with a larger experience, and a greater courage. But it is otherwise with those whose trouble is caused by their own sins, they have fallen into a quagmire, and some of the mud sticks to them, so that they are ashamed to look other men in the face. This was the case with the young squire, he was ashamed of having led such a foolish and thoughtless life; he was ashamed of having allowed himself to fall a prey to usurers, whether Jew or Christian; he was ashamed of being unable to think of any plan by which he might extricate himself from the mire into which he had fallen, and of having saved himself for the moment by means that would only serve to draw him further into the slough. How easy it would have been for him to have kept out of all this trouble if he had only taken Hawermann's advice. And how willingly would the bailiff help him now that loyalty to the old squire did not stand in the way. But the human heart is very reserved and timid, and thinks it will find rest when far away from the place where it has suffered pain and mortification, so Alick left Pumpelhagen sooner than his sisters had expected.

He found everything as he had left it when he reached the barracks, but _he_ himself was changed, at least he told himself so every day; but if his brother officers had been asked their opinion on the subject, they would have said that they saw no difference in him, which was quite natural, as the only change in him was that he made plenty of good resolutions, but never put them in practice. He was determined to be economical; he was determined to follow his father's advice, and read the agricultural books he had sent him, as much of them, at least, as he could; he was determined .... he was determined .... Oh, what did he not determine to do?--His economy began early in the morning with his coffee; for a whole long week he drank it without sugar, for, said he, "Take care of the pence, and the pounds will take care of themselves;"

after coffee he smoked a cigar, for which he now paid at the rate of two pounds seventeen a thousand, instead of three pounds; he scolded his servant for giving him b.u.t.ter at breakfast; he ordered his groom to give his horses half feeds of corn instead of whole feeds as before, because, he said, oats were so dear. Of all his new regulations this was the only one that lasted--probably because he and his horses did not dine together--the rest came to an end after a week's trial. And why? Because, he said, he could not carry out his plan in everything, and to be of use it must be done thoroughly. It was not much better with his studies. He knew the first three pages of each of the books on farming almost by heart, he had read them so often. He always began at the very beginning again when he took them up, for if he did not, he lost the sense of what he was reading. To make up for this conscientiousness on his part, he sometimes amused himself by picking out the most interesting bits of the books, and when he had gone through them all in this way, reading a page about horses here, and another there, he threw them aside, and said that he knew all about it now, and indeed understood the whole affair better than the authors themselves. Ah, well--what good did all that reading do him? He knew nothing of agriculture practically, and a farmer must be _practical_, theory is worse than useless to him. He made the acquaintance of a Mr.