On the Heights Part 75

I'll climb up and get some for you, and if I could get up, way beyond the tree, and bring down the blue sky for you, I'd do it."

He climbed up the tree, and cried out: "Shoo! you sparrows, you've had enough. My old woman's here again, but she's a young one, still, and wants some, too. You've had your wives with you the whole year, and I haven't." He hurriedly plucked the finest cherries, singing the while:

"In cherry time, you left me, dear; In cherry time, again you're here.

The cherries they are black and red, And I'll love my darling till I'm dead."

Suddenly he called out: "Walpurga, I must come down, I can't get any more for you, I'm so giddy."

He was soon on the ground again and said: "That never happened to me before, in all my life, and I've been up there many a half-day at a time. I suppose it's our good fortune that makes me so giddy. I'll never climb a tree again, I promise you that. It would be a terrible thing if I were to fall down. We must take care that we keep well and hearty, and stick to each other. I don't want to break my legs. I want to dance with you yet. I'll dance with you at Burgei's wedding. It seems as if I could hear the music already. Hark! don't you hear anything?"

"No. It'll be a long while before the music for Burgei's wedding is struck up."

"And she must get a good husband; I won't have it otherwise. What do you think of a prince? but I'll be quiet, for I'm talking nothing but silly stuff. I scarcely know what I'm saying, where I am, or who I am, and--"

"We're at home, and you're my husband and that's all of it. You'll see, I have something else good in store for you."

"Tell me nothing, and promise me nothing more. I've got enough already.

I can hardly believe that we've a child. It seems as if we were just married."

In a soft voice, too low for any pa.s.ser-by to hear it and just loud enough for them to know they were singing, they sang:

"Oh, blissful is the tender tie That binds me, love, to thee.

And swiftly speed the hours by, When thou art near to me."

Just like the finch who never wearies of repeating his song, they sang the same words over and over again. They had nothing more to tell each other, for they were unspeakably happy. The church bell now began tolling. Its sounds, floating over the lake, were echoed back from the forests and mountains. A wagon was seen coming from the village and Walpurga said: "We must get ready for church."

They went into the house. The mother had already brought Hansei his royal Sunday suit. They soon heard the cracking of a whip and a voice cried out: "Are you coming?" Hansei put his head out of the window and asked: "What's the matter?" Covering herself with a large sheet, Walpurga looked out of the low window. The innkeeper's head-servant, who was standing by the wagon out in the road, answered:

"My master sends you his wagon, so that you may drive to church."

"Walpurga, do you wish to ride?" asked Hansei, at the closed chamber door.

"No, I'll walk. I beg of you, Hansei, send the wagon away; I've had enough riding." Hansei went out. At the same moment the innkeeper, with his military medal glittering on his breast, arrived.

Hansei thanked him, but said that his wife didn't care to ride. But it was not so easy to deny the innkeeper, who waited until Walpurga came out of the house.

She was not long dressing herself, and that is saying a great deal; for this was to be her first appearance at church and she knew that all eyes would be directed upon her. When she came out, clad in tasteful attire, the innkeeper said:

"You must do me the honor of letting me drive you and your husband to church."

"I'm still quite sound on my feet, and shall be glad to have a good walk again."

"You can do that, too; but not on the first Sunday. We'd feel ashamed before the folks who live in the wilderness and out at the Windenreuthe, if we didn't show them that we know how to treat a woman like yourself with proper respect. We're all proud of you."

"Thanks. Don't think hard of it, but I won't ride."

Walpurga was not to be moved. The innkeeper was about to give vent to his anger, but, fearing the consequences, he restrained himself, and, with smiling mien, said:

"I ought to have known as much. Walking's a great treat to the quality.

Yes, indeed!" He laughed at his own cleverness and sent the wagon home again. He kept smiling till he had a chance to turn his back on Hansei and Walpurga, when his face a.s.sumed quite an angry expression. He went home, took off his coat with the medal, hung it up in the closet, and wished he could hang himself in the same manner. Who could tell but what Walpurga would interfere both with all his fun and the handsome receipts he expected that day.

Walpurga and Hansei started off by the road along the lake, the grandmother, with the child on her arm, standing at the garden hedge and looking after them. She softly repeated to the child: "mother," and it suddenly called out "mother" in a loud voice. Walpurga turned round and wanted to hug the child, but it again tried to hide from her, and cried when she attempted to kiss it. Hansei stood by, and was so vexed that he raised his hand as if to strike the child, but Walpurga pacified him and said: "We must wait."

The second bell was ringing, and they hurried on. On the way, they were joined by men, women and children coming from the village and various farms in the neighborhood. Hansei longed to drive them away, and he once said, softly, "I'd like to go with you, alone."

"Be patient," said Walpurga, "don't begrudge them their delight in our happiness." She was affable to all. Hansei looked out over the lake, then up at the sky, and then again at his wife, as if to say: "She's here again." He smiled when he heard the children saying: "She's the grandest peasant now--she comes right after the queen."

The third bell, or the ringing in, which generally lasts a full quarter of an hour, had just begun, when Hansei and his wife reached the church. Many churchgoers were standing about in groups and welcomed them. There was still time to remain there, chatting for awhile; but Walpurga took her husband's hand and went into the church with him.

They were the first to enter. Walpurga took her usual seat in the place allotted to the women, and Hansei went into that a.s.signed to the men.

Thus they were together and yet apart. The bells overhead were still ringing out their merry peal, while they sat there in silent introspection. Once only did Hansei nod to his wife, but she shook her head deprecatingly.

The playing of the organ began, and the people poured into church.

Walpurga knew that such and such a one was near her, but she did not wish to be welcomed or greeted by any one in such a place. She felt that the eye of the Invisible One was resting upon her.

The pastor preached of the return to the everlasting home. It seemed as if his words were intended for Hansei and Walpurga; as if he were speaking only to them.

When the sermon was over and prayers were offered for the king, the queen and the royal family, there was strange whispering in the church.

Walpurga felt that all eyes were directed upon her, and did not look up.

The service was over. The congregation left the church, and Walpurga was now welcomed by the latecomers.

The s.e.xton came to Walpurga and Hansei, and said that the pastor wished to see them in the vestry. They went in. The pastor again welcomed them, spoke of their good fortune, and admonished them to be humble.

"Yes, yes," said Hansei, "my mother-in-law said almost the same thing."

The pastor promised to visit them before long, and said that he was proud to have such a woman among his parishioners. Hansei put out his hand as if to check him, and felt like answering: "What's the use of your warning us against pride when you tell us such things yourself?"

The pastor motioned him to be quiet, and went on to say: "I shall visit the capital next week, and you must do me the favor, Walpurga, to give me a letter to Countess von Wildenort."

"With all my heart," said Walpurga.

When they were out of doors again, Hansei looked at his wife from head to foot. And so even the pastor would ask his wife to intercede for him. Yes, she was a splendid wife, if all that couldn't turn her head.

"Oh Hansei," said Walpurga suddenly, "what a pack of fools they all are. They do all they can to make one proud, and if one were to become so, they'd do nothing but abuse you."

Hansei was on the point of saying that he had thought the very same thing, but, before he had a chance to do so, he saw Schneck the tailor coming down the mountainside, and carrying his great ba.s.s viol. The weak and delicate-looking man, with the great instrument on his back, presented quite an odd appearance.

"Heigho! why here's the wedding party," exclaimed the tailor, while he left the meadow path and ran up the road to shake hands with Hansei and Walpurga.

"What's the matter? what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to play for you to-day."

"For us? Who ordered you?"

"What a pity my wife didn't live to see this day. How happy it would have made her. Don't you know about it? There's going to be a great feast at the Chamois, in honor of your return, Walpurga, and the innkeeper has engaged me and six other musicians. The forest keeper, the chief forester, all the judges of the court, and everybody for six leagues around, have been invited. How stupid that I've only got my ba.s.s viol with me, or else I'd play you a piece, right here on the road."

"There you have it," whispered Walpurga to her husband, "the innkeeper makes money out of everything. If he only could do it, he'd have fiddle-strings stretched over my back, and have the skin drawn off of you to make drum-heads with."

"Go on; we'll follow," said Hansei to the tailor. He was annoyed when others joined them on their way home. He wanted to be alone with his wife. No one should have a share of her; she belonged to him alone.