Black Forest Village Stories Part 56

"We are p.r.o.ne to think that with a catechism of pure reason promulgated among the people it would be easy to convert them; but at every step we find ourselves upon the holy ground of history, and compelled to trace the footsteps of the past. Alas that our German history is so torn and disjointed! where shall we begin?"

He frequently called on Buchmaier also, and heard with delight the solid views, albeit at times a little roughly worded, of the squire.

But the more intimate he became at his house the less kindly did he find himself received at Johnnie's. Even Hedwig began to avoid him, and her salutations became more and more shy and timid.

One evening Hedwig came to Agnes, weeping, and said, "Only think! that wild brother of mine won't allow it."

"What?"

"Why, the teacher to come and see me. He says if I am seen once more with the Lauterbacher he'll beat me and him to a jelly: you know he sulks because the teacher is friends with your father."

"Why, that is too bad! What shall we do?"

"Tell the teacher when he comes that he mustn't be angry: but he mustn't come to our house so much. I can't help it; I can't talk to him. _I_ wouldn't mind it, if my brother was ever so wicked to _me_, but he might insult him somewhere, where everybody saw it; and if he did that I'd cry my eyes out."

"Make yourself easy," replied Agnes: "I won't tell him a word of all that, anyhow."

"Why not?"

"Why not, you crazy pigeon? Because I don't want him to think that the Nordstetten girls come running up to you the minute you whistle to 'em."

"He won't think any thing of the kind."

"But I a'n't a-going to run the risk of it. I won't say a word about you unless he begins. Let me fix it: I'll get him round. Jilly wo gee!

And when he's pretty well b.u.t.tered up I'll just slither him down a little, and say, 'Mayhap I might manage to get Hedwig to our house of a Sunday.' I'll see if the pears come off by shaking."

"Well, you may do as you like: you're your own mistress. But one thing I beg of you, don't worry him: you see, he's one of that kind of men that have a deal of thought about every thing; I've found that out well enough; so he might be sorry, and lose his sleep."

"Why, who told you all that?"

"Oh, I only think he does, and I do so myself sometimes."

"Well, never mind: I won't do him any damage. These teachers are always examining somebody else, and now I'd just like to see whether he's smart or not."

"He is smart: I can tell you he is!"

"Well, if he says his lesson well, may I kiss him?"

"Oh, yes."

"Then don't look so solemn: love must be merry and not mawkish. Last Sunday the parson asked, 'How must we love G.o.d?' So I said, right out, 'Merrily.' He smiled at that, and took a pinch of snuff, and said, 'That's right,'--you know that's what he says to any thing, if it isn't too awful stupid: but, after he has said so, he explains it, and then it turns out to be something else; and he went on to explain that we must love G.o.d as a child loves its father, with veneration; and then I said some children loved their fathers merrily, and then he laughed ever so much, and opened his snuff-box wrong side up, and all the snuff fell on the floor, and then we all laughed:--

'Always a little merry, And always a little glad.'"

Thus singing, she wound up her exhortation and dragged Hedwig out into the garden, where she gathered up the clothes on the gra.s.s-plot, to bring them into the house, telling her that they were intended as a portion of her outfit.

Next evening the teacher came to Buchmaier's house, as usual; but Agnes forgot all her intended raillery when the first mention of Hedwig's name brought a deep shade to his brow, and he frankly told her all his troubles. She now explained to him the state of parties in the commune.

The College Chap, having married the old squire's daughter, of course belonged to his party, and therefore regarded any a.s.sociate of Buchmaier's as his sworn foe; and his animosity was still further increased by the election of Mat to the committee of citizens, against himself,--which he ascribed to Buchmaier's efforts.

"Alack-a-day!" said Agnes, in conclusion, "I had it all cut-and-dry about going to the harvest-home together. But never mind: the College Chap isn't smart enough to get ahead of me, and Thaddie must help us make plans, too."

Against this the teacher protested, to Agnes' great surprise. He obtained her promise, however, to invite Hedwig to come there, and even to feign sickness as a pretext, and to remain in-doors all day.

Late in the evening the teacher wrote into his notebook,--

"How easy is it to preserve the whiteness of our souls while we shut ourselves out from human intercourse and construct our own fabric of things and thoughts! But the moment we approach reality every step is fraught with dangers, and we find ourselves engulfed in all the quarrels of faction and of party-strife. I longed to taste the peaceful joys of these villagers; and here I am in the midst of their contentions, with which the every affections of my heart are intertwined."

Agnes kept her word. The stolen interview of the lovers broke down the last barrier of reserve between them. Denial had lost all pretext, now that they met in secret.

After an interchange of condolence, Hedwig was the first to take a more cheerful view of the subject.

"Is it true," she asked, "that you are from Lauterbach?"

"Yes."

"Why did you want to deny it, then? There's no shame in it, I'm sure."

"I never denied it.

"Well, isn't it a shame? how people tell stories! They all said that the reason you were by yourself so much, running about like a poor, frightened little chick, was that you were afraid they'd tease you about being from Lauterbach. Why, if you were from Tripstrill you'd be----"

"What would I be?"

He looked at her so penetratingly that she held her hands over his eyes; but he kissed her and strained her to his heart. "Dearest!

dearest!" he cried; "it shall, it must, all be well."

"Don't do so," said Hedwig, but without trying to extricate herself: so he kissed her again. "Now talk to me, and tell me something. What have you been doing? You don't talk a word."

The teacher pressed her hand to his lips, as if to say that that was the only language he was capable of uttering. So Hedwig seemed to understand him, for she said, "No: you must talk to me; I love to hear you talk so much; and my grandmother always says you have such beautiful words,--my grandmother thinks so much of you."

Something like moisture must have been glistening in the teacher's eyes; for she went on:--"Never mind: there's nothing lost yet; and Constantine had better look out, or he'll find out in some way he don't like that I'm my own mistress."

Though opposed to tears in theory, she was fast lapsing into the practice. Rallying herself, "Come," said she; "let's think of nothing but the present. If it's G.o.d's will we should have each other, it'll come so: no doubt about it. I always think it would have been too good for this world if things had gone all right from the very first. I don't know how it is, but that Sunday when I came round the corner of the house and found you sitting there with grandmother, it seemed as if a fiery hand was pa.s.sing across my face, or as if--I can't tell how, I'm sure."

"Yes; I loved you from that moment."

"Mustn't talk of it!" cried she, looking into her lover's face with beaming eyes. As a true peasant-girl, the more she loved, the more dread had she to hear love mentioned. "Talk of something else."

Nevertheless, she was well content to sit in perfect silence, with her hand in his; while nothing was to be heard but the cooing of the turtle-doves in their cote and the monotonous tick of the Black Forest clock.

Agnes, who had wisely absented herself, at length returned.

"Make him talk," said Hedwig, rising. "Ho won't do any thing but look at me."

Her eye fell to the looking-gla.s.s as she pa.s.sed it; but she quickly averted it, for she seemed to have seen a perfect stranger, so unaccountable was the change which had come over the expression of her features.

The teacher sat motionless, dreaming with open eyes.

Agnes sang, as she skipped about the room, snapping her fingers,--