Joseph in the Snow, and The Clockmaker Volume III Part 22

CHAPTER XL.

ALL'S WELL.

The ravens flew over the valley, and flew over the hills, and at last they flew past a small house, where an old woman was seated at the window spinning coa.r.s.e flax, and her tears were falling fast on the threads as she drew them out. It was Franzl; she had heard the report, that Lenz and his family were buried in the snow: even from Knuslingen, people had hurried to the rescue. Franzl would gladly have gone with them to help if she could, but her tottering limbs could not bear her thither, and unluckily she had lent her only pair of shoes to a poor woman, who was obliged to go to the Doctor. In the midst of all her distress, Franzl often struck her forehead and thought: "Oh! how stupid I was not to observe when he was here, that something was wrong; but what use is that now? I had it on the tip of my tongue that day, to beg him to take timely precautions against the snow. We were twice snowed up, for a day and a half: every winter we tried to guard against it.

But it's too late to think of that now; my old mistress was right, when she said a hundred times over: 'Franzl, you can speak sensibly; but always an hour too late to be of any use.'"

The ravens, who were now flying past, could have told Franzl that she might dry her tears, as the buried alive were rescued; but men do not understand ravens, and human beings are some time before they can carry good news over hill and valley.

It was evening when a sledge came driving along, with a cheerful ringing of bells. What does the sledge come here for, and stop at this door?--there is no one at home but old Franzl.

"Who is getting out, is it not Pilgrim?" Franzl wishes to rise to meet him, but she is unable to stir.

"Franzl, I have come to fetch you;" cried Pilgrim. Franzl rubbed her eyes: "Is it a dream? what does it mean?" Pilgrim continued: "Lenz is saved, and all belonging to him, and I have been sent to fetch your fair Princess Cinderella! Will you entrust your precious person to my care in the sledge?"

"I have not a single pair of shoes to put on," said Franzl at last.

"I will lend you a pair of fur boots, I have below; they are sure to fit your small feet, Princess," answered Pilgrim. "And here is the skin--I mean the fur cloak of Petrowitsch the sorcerer. You must come with me this very moment, my well-beloved Franzl of Knuslingen! You must cease spinning your magic threads, and leave your magic wheel here; unless it thinks fit to walk after us on its wooden legs." So saying, Pilgrim bowed to Franzl and offered her his arm, as if to lead her to a banquet.

Franzl was utterly confounded. Luckily her sister-in-law came home at this moment, and she seemed to have no objections to Franzl being carried off in a sledge. She a.s.sisted to help old Franzl to pack her things; but the old woman made her leave the room, for she wished above all to pack up a certain secret shoe carefully.

"I have my own feather bed here," said Franzl, "do you think you could put it on the sledge?"

"Let Knuslingen sleep on it in peace," answered Pilgrim; "make a footstool of your pillow, and leave all the rest."

"Must I leave my hens and my geese here too? They are my own, they all belong to me; and my beautiful gold speckled hen has been laying for the last six weeks."

The bepraised lady stuck her head out, between the bars of the coop, and showed her red comb.

Pilgrim said that hens and geese all ran after the veritable Cinderella of their own accord; and that if these chose to do the same, no one wished to prevent them, but that they certainly would not be taken in the sledge.

Franzl now charged her sister-in-law to pay the greatest attention to the cherished creatures she left behind: she was to take care of them, to feed them well, and to send them to her when a man came for them.

When Franzl was leaving the room, the hens began to cackle uneasily in their coop, and even the geese said a friendly word of regret as she pa.s.sed them.

It was a fine, bright winter night when Franzl drove off with Pilgrim; the stars glittered above, and a heaven filled with shining stars arose within Franzl's soul. She often laid hold of her bundle, and pressed it till she felt her shoe was safe there; and often, as they dashed along, she thought it was all a dream.

"Look! there is my little patch of potato ground that I bought," said Franzl; "it was only a heap of stones, and I have cultivated it so well during the four years I have had it, that it is worth double, and the potatoes it grows are like flour."

"Potatoes may be very precious in the sight of the Knuslingers, but you shall get something better now," answered Pilgrim. He then detailed to her every particular, with regard to the rescue of the inhabitants of the house on the Morgenhalde, and told her that they all were now to live with old Petrowitsch, and that they were the best of friends; the old miser seemed entirely changed, and Annele's first request was, that Franzl should be sent for. Franzl sobbed aloud when Pilgrim told her that Annele's hair was now snow white.

At every house they pa.s.sed, where lights were visible, Franzl would fain have stopped and told them the famous news. "There lives so and so, such good kind people! and they all deplored poor Lenz's fate; and it is hard that they should go on lamenting, when there is no longer any occasion for it. And they will jump sky high for joy, when they hear that the first thing they did was to send for old Franzl; and who knows if I may ever see them again to say good bye to them?"

Pilgrim, however, drove pitilessly past all these good men, and would not stop anywhere. When any one opened a window, and looked out at the sledge, then Franzl called out as loud as she could: "Good bye, and G.o.d bless you!"

And although, from the ringing of the bells, no one heard a word she said, still she had the satisfaction of having shouted a kind word to the good souls; for who knows when she might come back to Knuslingen?--perhaps never!

At the farm where Kathrine lived, Pilgrim was obliged to stop to feed his horse, but--there is no perfect joy on this earth--Kathrine, alas!

was not at home. As she had no children of her own, she was constantly taking charge of those of her neighbours; and she was now nursing one of them in her confinement. Franzl, however, sent her a minute account of all that had happened, through the sempstress who was sewing in the house; and she repeated every word twice over, that she might not forget it.

When she got into the sledge again, she first fully enjoyed her happiness. "Now," said she, "I feel so much better. It is like sleeping soundly, but waking up for a moment in the night, and saying to one's self: Oh! this is famous,--and going sound asleep again."

Pilgrim, however, had nearly destroyed all her delight by a foolish joke of his.

"Franzl," said he, "you will have but a meagre portion now, I fear, up yonder."

"Up where?"

"I mean in the other world. You will henceforth live in Paradise; and those who fare so well in this world, cannot expect to be equally happy in the next--both would be too much."

"Stop! stop! let me out, I must go home," cried Franzl. "I will have nothing to do with you; I will not give up my happy life hereafter, for any thing this world can offer. Stop, or I will jump out."

With a degree of strength no one could have believed she possessed, Franzl seized the reins and tried to s.n.a.t.c.h them from Pilgrim's hand, who had the greatest difficulty in pacifying her, saying, that he saw she could no longer take a joke. But Franzl said she could make no allowance for people jesting on such sacred subjects. Pilgrim tried to persuade her, with the aid of the holy Haspucius--whose words he first repeated in Greek, and then kindly translated into German, and even into the Black Forest dialect, for her benefit--that he had distinctly written, an exception would be made in favour of household servants, for, however comfortable they may be in this world, their life is hard enough at best!

Franzl became more composed, and seemed to think that what was said about servants was true enough. Presently she resumed: "I shall have such pleasure in seeing my good Lenz's children--for I never saw them; the boy's name is Wilhelm, is it not? and what is the name of the little girl?"

"Marie."

"Of course; for that was her grandmother's name."

"I am glad you reminded me of that word grandmother; I had quite forgotten to say, that the children believe that I have gone to fetch their grandmother, and that she is to arrive in a sledge. The children are to remain awake till we arrive, so your Highness of Knuslingen must be so condescending as to allow the children to call you grandmother."

Franzl, the worthy spinster! p.r.o.nounced this to be both wrong and untrue, for it is never right to deceive children. A family name belongs only to blood relations, and that is a point about which no jesting should be permitted. She consoled herself, however, by thinking that she would explain it all herself to the children; she had not the blessing of being born in Knuslingen for nothing. In the consciousness that she was the representative of the district of Knuslingen, she was firm in her duty.

The various episodes on the journey were, however, of some use in sobering down Franzl; for, first of all, she had persuaded herself that the whole village would form a procession to receive her on her return, and to escort her to her new home. She was, however, received only with a shout of uproarious laughter, and that was by Petrowitsch, who roared so at the sight of Franzl's costume, that he was obliged to sit down in a chair; and Buble played his part also, for, as he could not laugh, he barked loudly, and snapped at Franzl; and it was certainly rather unkind in Petrowitsch to call out, "Anton Striegler, your lover, must have known what you would look like some day, and this was why he threw you over and married another."

"And the worms will spare you yet a while, till you become tender; for you are too tough and skinny, even for them, as yet," answered Franzl, giving a hearty kick to Buble.

The long cherished hatred of years, and her rage at being twitted with her unhappy love, inspired her with this bitter answer. Buble stopped barking, and Petrowitsch laughing. Both had henceforth a wholesome horror of Franzl.

Lenz was asleep. Annele was with the children, who, after all, had fallen asleep, and she had some difficulty in refraining from throwing her arms round Franzl's neck; but she was ashamed to do so before Pilgrim and Petrowitsch.

"Look!" said she, "these are our children; give them each a kiss, they will not wake."

Franzl was to remain in the sitting room, while Annele went to the kitchen, to get ready something for her to eat. Franzl nodded--"She is very different from what she used to be." The good old woman could not, however, stay long in the parlour, and went to join Annele in the kitchen, who said: "Oh, what a luxury to be able to light a good fire!"

Franzl looked at her in surprise. She could not understand being so thankful for all the common things of life, which are too often accepted by us as mere matters of course.

"What do you say to my white hair?" asked Annele.

"I wish I could give you mine, for it is still quite black; and it will never turn grey, for my mother often told me I had a good head of hair when I was born."

Annele smiled, and said it had been so ordained; and that it was well she should bear about with her a lasting token that she had been in the jaws of death, and must now be doubly good in the world. "You forgive me, too, don't you, Franzl? I a.s.sure you I thought of you at the hour when death seemed very near."

Franzl burst into tears.

It was indeed wonderful to see the transformation that had taken place in Annele. When she heard the church bells ringing for the first time, she took her little girl in her arms, and, making her clasp her hands, she exclaimed, "Oh, my child, I little thought we should ever hear these sounds again!" And when Franzl brought in the first pailful of water, she cried, "Oh, how pure and refreshing spring water is! I thank our Heavenly Father who gives it to us!"