Debit and Credit Part 11

From that night Veitel hurried home every evening, and the lessons went on regularly.

We may here briefly relate what he gradually discovered as to the history of his teacher.

Herr Hippus had seen better days. He had once been a leading attorney, and had then taken to the Bar, where he soon gained a high reputation for his skill in making a doubtful cause appear a good one. At first he had no intention of gaining a fortune by confounding right and wrong. On the contrary, he had a painful sense of insecurity when retained for a client whose cause seemed to him unjust. He differed but little, indeed, from the best of his colleagues; perhaps he had somewhat fewer scruples; and, certainly, he was too fond of good red wine. He had a caustic wit, made an admirable boon companion, and, having a subtle intellect, was fond of paradoxes and skillful hair-splitting. Thanks to the red wine, he fell into the habit of spending much, and so into the necessity of making much also. Vanity and the love of excitement led him to devote the whole energy of his brilliant intellect to winning bad cases, and thus that frequent curse of barristers overtook him; all who had bad cases applied to him. For a long time this annoyed him; but gradually, very gradually, he became demoralized by the constant contact with falsehood and wrong. His wants went on increasing, temptations multiplied, and conscience weakened. But, though long hollow within, he continued outwardly prosperous, and many prophesied that he, with his immense practice, would die one of the richest men in the city, when, cunning lawyer as he was, he had the misfortune to provoke inquiry by appearing in a desperate case. The result was, that he was at once disgraced, and vanished like a falling star from the circle of his professional brethren. He soon lost the last remains of respectability.

In reality, he had ama.s.sed very little, and his love of drink went on increasing. He sunk to a mere frequenter of brandy-shops, a promoter of unfair litigation, and an adviser of rogues and swindlers. Owing to some of these practices it was that he now found it convenient, under the pretense of a long journey, to become for a time invisible. Pinkus was an old ally, and hence the opportunity for Veitel's lessons.

These lessons soon became an absolute necessity to the old man's heart--ay, to his heart; for, bad as he was, its warmth was not yet utterly extinguished.

It grew a melancholy pleasure to him to open out his mental resources to the youth, whose attention flattered him, and gradually he began to attach himself to him. He would put by a portion of his supper, and even of his brandy for him, and enjoy seeing him consume it. Once, when Veitel had caught a feverish cold, and lay shivering under his thin coverlet, the old man spread his own blankets over him, and felt a glow of pleasure on seeing his grateful smile.

Veitel repaid these sparks of friendly feeling with a degree of reverence, greater than ever pupil felt before. He did many small kindnesses on his side, and made Hippus the confidant of all his own transactions. It is true that this intimacy had its thorns. The old man could not refrain from practicing his sharp wit on Itzig, who called him, too, by many an irreverent name when he had stupefied himself with brandy; but, on the whole, they got on capitally, and were essential to each other.

During the months that the old man spent in this retreat, Veitel learned much besides the special science already alluded to; he improved in speaking and writing German, and gained a great amount of general information. This change did not escape Mr. Ehrenthal, who mentioned it in his family circle much as a farmer would the promising points of a young bullock; and, at the end of the quarter, announced of his own accord to Veitel that the shoe-blacking and kitchen dinner were to cease, and that he was prepared to give him a place in his office, and a small salary besides. Veitel received the long-desired intelligence with great self-command, and returned his humble thanks, adding, "I have still one very, very great favor to ask. May I have the honor of dining once a week at Mr. Ehrenthal's table, that I may see how people conduct themselves in good society? If you will do me this kindness, you may deduct it from my salary."

Ehrenthal shook his head, and said that he must refer the question to his wife; the result of which consultation was, that on the following Sabbath Veitel was invited to eat a roast goose with the family.

CHAPTER IX.

One warm summer evening, office hours being over, Fink said to Anton, "Will you accompany me to-day? I am going to try a boat that I have just had built." Anton was ready at once; so they jumped into a carriage, and drove to the river. Fink pointed out a round boat that floated on the water like a pumpkin, and said, in a melancholy tone, "There it is--a perfect horror, I declare! I cut out the model for the builder myself too; I gave him all manner of directions, and this is the sea-gull's egg he has produced."

"It is very small," replied Anton, with an uncomfortable foreboding.

"I'll tell you what it is," cried Fink to the builder, who now came forward, respectfully touching his hat, "our deaths will be at your door, for we shall inevitably be drowned in that thing, and it will be owing to your want of sense."

"Sir," replied the man, "I have made it exactly according to your directions."

"You have, have you?" continued Fink. "Well, then, as a punishment, you shall go with us; you must see that it is but fair that we should be drowned together."

"No, sir, that I will not do, with so much wind as this," returned the man, decidedly.

"Then stay ash.o.r.e and make sawdust pap for your children. Give me the mast and sails." He fitted in the little mast, hoisted and examined the sails, then took them down again, and laid them at the bottom of the boat, threw in a few iron bars as ballast, told Anton where to sit, and, seizing the two oars, struck out from sh.o.r.e. The pumpkin danced gayly on the water, to the great delight of the builder and his friends, who stood watching it.

"I wanted to show these lazy fellows that it is possible to row a boat like this against the stream," said Fink, replacing the mast, setting the sail, and giving the proper directions to his pupil. The wind came in puffs, sometimes filling the little sail, and bending the boat to the water's edge, sometimes lulling altogether.

"It is a wretched affair," cried Fink, impatiently; "we are merely drifting now, and we shall capsize next."

"If that's the case," said Anton, with feigned cheerfulness, "I propose that we turn back."

"It doesn't matter," replied Fink, coolly; "one way or other, we'll get to land. You can swim?"

"Like lead. If we do capsize I shall sink at once, and you will have some trouble to get me up again."

"If we find ourselves in the water, mind you do not catch hold of me, which would be the surest way of drowning both. Wait quietly till I draw you out; and, by the way, you may as well be pulling off your coat and boots; one is more comfortable in the water _en neglige_." Anton did so at once.

"That's right," said Fink. "To say the truth, this is wretched sport. No waves, no wind, and now no water. Here we are, aground again! Push off, will you? Hey, shipmate! what would you say if this dirty sh.o.r.e were suddenly to sink, and we found ourselves out on a respectable sea--water as far as the horizon, waves as high as that tree yonder, and a good hearty wind, that blew your ears off, and flattened your nose on your face?"

"I can't say that I should like it at all," replied Anton, nervously.

"And yet," said Fink, "there are few plights so bad but they might be still worse. Just think; in that case it would be some comfort to have even these good-for-nothing planks between us and the water; but what if we ourselves lay on the stream--no boat, no sh.o.r.e--mountain waves all round?"

"I at least should be lost!" cried Anton, with genuine horror.

"I have a friend, a good friend, to whom I trust implicitly in any crisis, to whom this once happened. He sauntered down to the sh.o.r.e on a glorious evening, had a fancy to bathe, stripped, plunged, and struck out gayly. The waves lifted him up and drew him down; the water was warm, the sunset dyed the sea with ten thousand exquisite hues, and the golden sky glowed above him. The man shouted with ecstasy."

"You were that man?" inquired Anton.

"True. I went on swimming for about an hour, when the dull look of the sky reminded me that it was time to return; so I made for land; and what think you, Master Wohlfart, that I saw?"

"A ship?" said Anton; "a fish?"

"No. I saw _nothing_--the land had vanished. I looked on all sides--I rose as high as I could out of the water--there was nothing to be seen but sea and sky. The current that set out from the land had treacherously carried me out. I was in mid ocean, somewhere between England and America, that I knew; but this geographical fact was by no means soothing to one in my circ.u.mstances. The sky grew dark, the hollows filled with black uncanny shadows, the waves got higher, and a cold wind blew round my head; nothing was to be seen but the dusky red of the sky and the rolling waters."

"Horrible!" cried Anton.

"It was a moment when no priest in the world could have prevented a poor human being from wishing himself a pike, or some such creature. I knew by the sky where the land lay. Now came the question, which was stronger--the current or my arm? I began a deadly struggle with the treacherous ocean deities. I should not have done much by such swimming as they teach in schools. I rolled like a porpoise, and struck out desperately for about two hours; then the labor got hard indeed. It was the fiercest battle I ever fought. The sky grew dark, the emerald waves pitchy black, only they were crested with foam that blew in my face. At times a single star peeped from the clouds--that was my only comfort. So I swam on and on, and still there was no land to be seen. I was tired out, and the hideous darkness sometimes made me think of giving up the struggle. The clouds gathered darker, the stars disappeared; I began to doubt whether I was taking the right direction, and I was making very little way. I knew the game was nearly up--my chest heaved--countless sparks rose before my eyes. Just then, my boy, when I had glided half unconsciously down the slope of a wave, I felt something under my feet that was no longer water."

"It was land!" cried Anton.

"Yes," said Fink; "it was good firm sand. I found myself on sh.o.r.e about a mile to leeward of my clothes, and fell down like a dead seal." Then stopping, and with a steady look at Anton, "Now, mate, get ready!" cried he; "take your legs from under the bench; I am going to tack and make for sh.o.r.e. Now for it!"

At that moment came a violent gust of wind; the mast creaked, the boat heeled over, and could not right herself. According to promise, Anton went to the bottom without any more ado. Quick as lightning Fink dived after him, brought him up, and, with a violent effort, reached a spot whence they could wade ash.o.r.e. "Deuce take it," gasped Fink; "take hold of my arm, can't you?"

But Anton, who had swallowed a quant.i.ty of water, was hardly conscious, and only waved Fink off.

"I do believe he'll be down again," cried the latter, impatiently, catching hold of him and making for the sh.o.r.e.

A crowd had by this time a.s.sembled round the spot where Fink was holding his companion in his arms and exhorting him to recover himself. At length Anton opened his eyes.

"Why, Wohlfart," said Fink, anxiously, "how goes it, my lad? You have taken the matter too much to heart. Poncho y ponche!" cried he to the by-standers; "a cloak and a gla.s.s of rum--that will soon bring him round."

A cloak was willingly lent, and our hero carried to the builder's house.

"Here is an end of boat, sails, oars, and all," said Fink, reproachfully, "and of our coats into the bargain. Did not I tell you that it was a good-for-nothing tub?"

For an hour, at least, Fink tended his victim with the greatest tenderness, but it was late before Anton was sufficiently recovered to walk home.

The next day was Sunday, and the princ.i.p.al's birth-day besides. On this important occasion, the gentlemen of the office spent some hours after dinner with the family circle, and coffee and cigars were served. As they were sitting down to table, the good-natured cousin said to Fink, "The whole town is full of the fearful risk which you and Mr. Wohlfart ran yesterday."

"Not worth mentioning, my dear lady!" replied Fink, carelessly; "I only wanted to see how Master Wohlfart would behave in drowning. I threw him into the water, and he was within a hair's-breadth of remaining at the bottom, considering it indiscreet to give me the trouble of saving him.

Only a German is capable of such self-sacrificing politeness."

"But," cried the cousin, "this is a sheer tempting of Providence. It is dreadful to think of it!"

"It is dreadful to think of the impurity of your river. The water sprites that inhabit it must be a dirty set. But Wohlfart did not mind their mud. He fell into their arms with enthusiasm. He threw both legs over the boat's edge before there was any occasion."