Black Forest Village Stories Part 40

At last it occurred to him to go straight to Horb and pretend that he had lost or forgotten his money. Vexed with himself for not having thought of this before, he set out immediately. He pa.s.sed George the blacksmith, sitting at his front door as usual, and in the best of spirits,--for the marketers afforded him plenty of entertainment.

"Where bound so fast, Florian? You look as if you could buy the world out."

Florian stared, and stood still. He forgot that it was George's peculiar delight, when people pa.s.sed with a heavy burden, a sack of corn, or a bundle of clover, to hold them fast with questions. Many were caught in this trap; and then the old gossip would rejoice that he could sit there doing nothing while others toiled and struggled. He was equally fond of laying hands on such as had heavy loads upon their hearts; for it was just at such times that they were likely to be most communicative. All this escaped Florian; and he inquired,--

"How do you know that?"

"Can't you tell by looking at a stocking when the leg's out of it? I know all about it. Crescence went up just now, with her mother's husband, going to market, too."

"Never fear."

"I know all about it. They say you're well tied up with her." Florian smiled and pa.s.sed on, glad to know that the truth was not suspected.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Florian saw Schlunkel sitting by the roadside.]

In the hollow Florian saw Schlunkel,--an outcast of a fellow, who had been to the penitentiary twice, sitting by the roadside and counting money. At another time he would not have honored such a wretch with a look; but now he could not help addressing him with, "Shall I help you count?" The fellow looked at him without answering.

Florian sat down beside him and at last asked him for a florin.

Schlunkel grinned, tightened the strings of his purse, pa.s.sed his finger across his mouth, and whistled. Florian held his arm convulsively.

"You wouldn't take the money from _me_, would you?" asked Schlunkel.

"What do you want so much money for?"

"I want to buy something."

"Well, I'll go to Horb with you."

Florian would rather have perished on the spot than to have been seen walking with Schlunkel in broad daylight. "Give me six creutzers," he said: "I'll meet you in the 'Knight' in an hour, and pay you."

Schlunkel gave him the money, and Florian ran away with the speed of lightning, often putting his hand into his pocket to make quite sure of how much he had. He squeezed the four coins through his fingers one by one, as if to make each one bring forth another. He went whistling through the cattle-fair, to reach the fancy fair in the upper part of the town.

8.

FLORIAN LOSES MONEY AND WINS CRESCENCE.

He was brought to a pause by the sight of a gaming-table. He pa.s.sed on, and inspected the tobacco-pipes in the next booth. Turning back, he resolved merely to look at the others who were playing. One was particularly fortunate with No. 8. Putting his hand in his pocket, he set a three-creutzer piece on the same number, and lost it. He tried again, and again he lost. He bit his lips until they bled, but immediately looked around with a smile, to conceal his vexation. He lost again. He felt his knees knocking, and his intestines boiled. With hot, trembling hand, he threw down his last coin, and looked another way. He won back all the money he had lost. He seized it hastily, thinking, "There! so much for playing with edged tools. I'll hold on to you now, my darling!" Yet he remained rooted to the spot. It would not do to let people see how glad he was to walk off without being fleeced.

Then again he reflected that he must, somehow, raise money to pay Schlunkel. He would try one piece, and put the rest of his money into his right pocket, where he never put his hand.

He played: he did put his hand into his right pocket; and he walked away with empty pockets. With inexpressible grief and self-accusation, he now ran about the market: thousands of things were offered for sale, but he could not stretch forth his hand to take them. A terrible curse against the world rose to his lips: he longed to turn every thing topsy-turvy.

We might be tempted to ask, "What reason has a man like Florian to rave at the world? The world has done him no harm: he is himself the cause of his own distress." But then people like Florian--whether they belong to the cla.s.s of society which wears gloves, or to that which wears them not--are never ready to think: when in bad luck they scold.

His only comfort was that he was firmly resolved never to touch a die again as long as he lived. To-be-sure, it was easy to shut the stable-door after the horse was stolen: still, there was some comfort in a virtuous resolution.

He met his father looking very happy. "Have you any money, father?"

said Florian, running up to him.

"Yes: I've earned three six-creutzer pieces, selling some oxen. See!"

"Give me two of them."

Without waiting for an answer, he disappeared with the money. He now walked up and down among the booths in good spirits, sustained by the consciousness of possession. He no longer cast a look upon the gambling-tables.

But soon he began to think that he had been very stupid in skipping about from one number to another: how could he help losing them? Should the rascally sweat-cloth fellows have the satisfaction of keeping it?

But then he had sworn never to touch a die again! Well, he would keep his vow: he would go where the croupier made the die roll through the coils of a snake, and where he might play without touching any thing.

At first he played for creutzers, like the others. He used great circ.u.mspection, taking care to remember the numbers which had won frequently, and betting upon the others. For some time he neither lost nor won. Finding this tedious, he staked larger pieces, and tried several numbers at a time, and with success. Seeing some of his acquaintances, he beckoned to them to come up and join him.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The croupier made the die roll through the coils of a snake.]

But the tide soon turned, and Florian lost. He now wandered about the board, pa.s.sed every number, and changed his bet before the throw fell.

When, at such times, the deserted number proved the winning one, he laughed aloud. Fortune frowned more and more, though he returned to his old system of remaining true to certain numbers. Taking his last groat, he laid it upon the table with such force as to make the table quiver,--and lost.

Florian continued to regard the board intently, with breath almost suppressed, though a tempest of emotion was raging within him. Having stayed long enough to prevent his acquaintances from suspecting the true state of the case, he stole away. Now he had neither vows nor curses, neither good nor evil intentions: he wandered from place to place like a body without a soul, without thoughts, without will, dull, hollow, and ruined.

The sound of music awakened him from his trance, and he found himself before the Rose Inn. The French simpleton, who was standing at the door and waiting for somebody to treat him, cried, "_Drenda marioin_," and made a sign of thirst; but Florian pushed him aside and went up into the dancing-hall.

Every one treated him: he only sipped at the gla.s.s and offered to set it down again. "It's in good hands," was the cry,--meaning, "Drink it all." "High up behind, they say at the Rhine," he would then say, and drain the gla.s.s at a draught.

The frequent repet.i.tion of this ceremony infused new life into him: the various kinds of wine had the same effect, and he wiped his forehead.

At length Peter came up to him, saying, "Have you seen Crescence? She is sitting at the Knight with the geometer."

Florian hardly stayed to drain his friend's gla.s.s. An object had appeared upon which to vent his wrath: he had an excuse for committing a crime, for destroying himself and others. Through lanes and alleys, pa.s.sing the little apothecary-shop where the crowd never came, he made his way to the Knight, and bounded up-stairs, taking three steps at a time.

Oh that men would run to do good with half the impetuosity which wafts them on the road to evil! How often do they scorn wind and weather, distance and darkness, in the gratification of their baser pa.s.sions!

but, when a duty is to be done, every breath is too rude, and every pebble an insurmountable hindrance.

As he entered the room, panting and out of breath, Crescence ran to meet him with beaming eyes, and, taking his trembling hand in hers, she said, "G.o.d be praised, you are mine again, and I am all yours now: I've just sent the geometer about his business for good and all. It's been boiling in me a long time, and at last it ran over. Oh, I'm so glad! I don't know what to do. I know whom I belong to now, and I belong to you, and will belong to you, no matter what happens. What makes you look so cross? A'n't you glad, too, that there's an end of this lying?"

She straightened his cap, which had been pushed to one side of his head. Florian suffered her to say and do what she liked. He awoke from a dream of vice, blood, and horror, to find himself in the arms of love and peace. He almost recoiled from this true-hearted love which came to him in the abyss of his degradation. Nothing had been left him but his poor, wasted life, which he would so gladly have thrown off likewise: now he learned to prize it again when he saw another life twined so confidingly around it. Smiling with a mixture of sadness and glee, he said at last, "Come, Crescence: let's go."

Crescence made no objection, though she could not help looking up with a smile at hearing the musicians strike up a fresh waltz: full as her heart was, she would gladly have danced a little, though she refrained from saying so,--not so much to guard against misunderstanding as because it made her happy just to live according to Florian's pleasure.

Near the front door Schlunkel was sitting over his wine without a companion. To the astonishment of Crescence, he asked Florian to drink with him; and Florian not only acknowledged the salutation, but said to her, "Go on a little: I'll come right-away."

She waited for him on the front door-steps. Schlunkel said, "Well, where's my money?"

"I can't pay you now: I can't cut it out of my ribs."

"Then you must give me the knife there in p.a.w.n."

"Oh, now, just wait till to-morrow night: do. If I don't give it to you then, you shall have it double."

"Oh, yes: you can promise it double; but who's to give it to me?"

"I am."