Black Forest Village Stories Part 36

A dispute interrupted this torrent of items.

"What're you pushing me so for?" said Corpse Kitty to Kilian's Annie: "I'm not a rich chap."

"Hold your jaw, you!--you've been to the House of Correction twice already, and the third time's written on your forehead now."

"I'll mark your forehead," screeched Kitty, striking at Annie with her bucket; but she parried the blow, and struck another. A fierce struggle ensued: the buckets were dropped, and the combatants "clinched" hand to hand. After looking on pa.s.sively a while, the others interfered, Soges particularly dealing official blows to the right and left with great vigor and impartiality. Like two fighting-c.o.c.ks torn asunder, the hostile parties looked daggers at each other as they picked up their buckets. Annie brushed her hair out of her face, crying bitterly, and complaining that n.o.body was safe, nor ever would be, until Corpse Kitty was in the House of Correction for life.

Crescence's turn having come at last, she carried the heavy bucket home on her head and a still heavier load in her heart. Tears were rolling down her cheeks; but she pretended that they were drops from the bucket, and always wiped the lower rim of it with her ap.r.o.n. There was confusion in her heart now, and she foresaw still greater troubles in the future.

Having returned home, she went through with her work, but without singing another note.

Lest our readers should be at a loss to divine what a t.i.tled personage like a geometer should be doing in the village, it is proper to remind them that the general survey of the country took place about this time.

Every nook and corner of the land was mapped, labelled, and numbered; and in the course of the operation a new element was infused into the life of the people. A race of "city fellows," belonging neither to the order of parsons nor to that of schoolmasters, made their way into the village: they were generally young, smart, and fond of enjoyment; and the importance they soon acquired among the female portion of the community has already become apparent.

These gentlemen received the sounding t.i.tle of "geometers." A surveyor was a plain surveyor; and as these people, for some reason or other, were to appear to the peasantry in the light of a superior rank of beings, and, as it was important to disseminate a knowledge of and taste for the cla.s.sics, they received the Greek addition. Crescence's playmate had married a geometer-general (should he not have been called a hypergeometer?) and lived at Biberach: this had made Crescence acquainted with one of his colleagues, and her parents were most anxious to push matters, for a better "providence" could not have been hoped for. The Red Tailor in his mind's eye already saw his daughter as Madame Geometrix-General.

2.

FLYING OFF THE HANDLE.

It was dark. Crescence stood by the fire in the kitchen: the College Chap came in with very audible steps, and said,--

"Crescence, how are you? I want a pound of that tobacco. Have you got any left?"

"Yes, walk in: my mother 'll wait on you."

"I won't poison your soup if I do stay here a bit," he said aloud: then he continued, very softly, "Florian's got home. Come out a little after a while, and you shall hear us."

Without waiting for an answer, he went into the room. When he came out again, Crescence was gone.

A little later the voices of the three comrades were heard before the Red Tailor's house, singing, whistling, and laughing. Florian's, which had long been wanting, was doubly clear and full. Finding all their efforts unavailing, Peter cried under the window,--

"Crescence, isn't this your goose running about here?"

The College Chap, crouching behind the wood-pile, was cackling with the accent of a native.

The window was opened; but, instead of Crescence, the tailor's wife looked out, and said,--

"Crack your jokes before somebody else's house."

With a roar of laughter the College Chap returned to the middle of the road.

Within, Crescence sat with the geometer, paying but little heed to his blandishments: at last she feigned a headache and went to bed.

Tired of their fruitless watch, the three boys in the road bent their steps toward the inn. They had not gone far before they encountered Josey, the French simpleton. The College Chap cried, seizing him by the collar,--

"_Qui vive? la bourse on la vie?_"

"_Paridadoin mullien_," calmly replied the person addressed, meaning to say, "What do you want?"

"Here's a jolly lark!" cried the student, triumphantly. "Let's take Josey with us and make him do the geometer. Come; we'll treat you to a mug of beer."

"_Moin paroula goin_," answered Josey,--as if to say, "I've no objections." His words were all formed by accident; and he eked them out with nods and grins. Originally Josey was not more than half a simpleton; but the half which Nature had denied had been carefully educated into him by the wags of the village. If any villager has a mole in his disposition, he may be a.s.sured that his townsmen will stretch it into a mountain for their common behoof and education.

n.o.body knew, or cared to know, what had given Josey the notion that he was master of all the living tongues. Some contended that he had been dry-nurse so long as to have acquired the baby-lingo by incessant practice. Be that as it may, it was impossible to address him in any real or imaginary language without receiving an instantaneous reply.

This apart, he was as good a field-hand as many others; and, whether he understood the language of the beasts or not, they understood him and did his bidding. In church Josey was the only member of the congregation who nodded at every word of the Latin ma.s.s, to imply that he understood it to perfection.

This individual was for this evening the fourth member of the usually so exclusive confederacy of three.

"_Bon soir_," said Florian, as they entered the bar-room. He received a kindly welcome at all hands. The a.s.sembled guests scanned him from head to foot, and nodded to each other with looks that seemed to say, "A fine fellow, Florian; yes, if you want to come home you must go abroad first."

One who sat behind the stove said to his neighbor, "This is a better way to come back than that thief Schlunkel's: he's been twice to the penitentiary, and has just come back. I wish we were rid of him again."

Florian ordered a bottle of wine for himself and his comrades, while Josey was regaled with a mug of beer at an adjoining table.

When Babbett brought the refreshments, he remarked, in an under-tone, but yet loud enough to be heard by all, "_Comme elle est jolie!_--_bien jolie!_"

"_Qui?_" returned the College Chap. The company nudged each other,--to think they could talk French so well together.

Florian treated the whole company,--to their great satisfaction, for, though frequenters of the tavern, they sat there as dry customers: the stimulus made their hearts glad, and the sensation was reflected upon the spirits of Florian. He seemed to have expended his stock of French; for "Snuff the _chandelle_" is not pure Parisian.

The point of the joke was lost, nevertheless; for the geometer, who put up at the Eagle, was not there.

"Are you going to stay with us, Florian?" asked Babbett.

"_Nous verrons_: we shall see."

"Tell us something of your travels," said Caspar, the host, who felt it inc.u.mbent on him to promote the conversation. "Have you been to Paris?"

"Of course," answered Florian, in a tone of voice in which a shrewd observer would have detected the ring of false metal; "but I didn't like it there. Nancy's the finest place yet. Go into a tavern there, and the walls are all looking-gla.s.ses, the tables are marble, and you eat and drink out of nothing but silver. You ought to go there once: you'd open your eyes and ears."

These signs of absorbing attention now showed themselves in Florian's own features; for the geometer, with his two colleagues, entered the room. They pa.s.sed through to the little back parlor, where a table was set for them.

Florian seized his gla.s.s, made it clink against those of his friends, and said, "_A votre sante._"

Caspar had lost his interest in Florian's narration, and hastened to meet the new-comers and light them to their supportable, which was set in the back room. Florian, twirling his mustache, asked Constantine, very softly, "Which is it?"

"The lobsided one, with long hair, that came in first."

For a time all were silent, and nothing was heard but the clatter of knives and forks behind the screen.

But suddenly Constantine began to sing:--

"Oh, man of geometry, Pull up your pegs: How can you see straight with such Shocking round legs?"

A burst of laughter filled the room, instantly succeeded by another silence. The knives and forks behind the screen were breathless also.

Florian got up and said to Josey, "_Comment vous portez-vous, Monsieur Geometre?_"