Seed-time and Harvest Part 19

and if she were going to marry preferred a man gifted with more brains, or that she was pleased with Axel's good-temper and modesty, it was not long before Axel was evidently "c.o.c.k of the walk," and the Herr Lieutenant of "old family," sat upon the nettles of jealousy.

It happened, about this time, that the officers of the corps gave a ball, and the Herr Lieutenant of "old family" adorned himself for this festivity with a pair of false calves. Looking at his legs, his own comrades scarcely knew him, and as there is always a mischief-maker among so many frolicsome young people, who in this case happened to be the adjutant, he converted the cotton-wool calves of Axel's rival into a pincushion, and stuck them full of b.u.t.terflies, with which the unconscious lieutenant hopped about quite merrily. People could not help looking and laughing, and the Herr Lieutenant, discovering how his calves were ornamented, became fearfully angry, as he had reason to be, and his wrath broke loose upon the first laughing face he chanced to meet, which happened to be Axel's. "If you were not already designated upon the colonel's conduct list, I should have the satisfaction of applying the epithet myself!" exclaimed he, in his rage. Axel did not hear the words distinctly, the insolent tone, however, was not to be misunderstood; and as he was really no poltroon, and very easily excited, he turned with equal anger to his rival, saying that "he did not understand what he said, but the tone he had used made an explanation necessary;" and with that he went to his captain, with whom he stood on good terms, and asked an account of the matter, and what he heard from him did not tend to diminish his anger. He fell into a terrible pa.s.sion, and challenged the lieutenant of "old family," and also the adjutant, because he had brought the matter about, and the lieutenant challenged the adjutant, an account of the b.u.t.terflies, and so the three rode out one fine Sunday afternoon, with a crowd of seconds and witnesses and impartial observers and doctors and surgeons, and they cut each other's faces, and shot at each other's limbs, and then there was peace again. Axel got a scar on his nose, because he was stupid enough to parry a thrust with his face instead of his sword. If this did not exactly beautify him, it certainly did him no harm. Herr von So and So's pretty daughter heard of the matter, she put together many little pleasantries which she had noted between the rivals, and who can blame this intelligent girl if she believed herself the innocent cause of such heroic deeds, and liked Axel afterward better than before?

Here I might relate the entire love-story of Axel and Frida, and I leave it to any unprejudiced person if I should not have a pair of characters for a love-story, such as cannot be found even in the Bible, a lieutenant of cuira.s.siers, and a young lady of the n.o.bility; but no, I will have nothing to do with it. For, in the first place, I never do more than I am obliged, and who can compel me to give private instructions to the burghers' daughters, who may possibly read this, about falling in love with a lieutenant of cuira.s.siers, or to teach young mechanics how they may ingratiate themselves with n.o.ble young ladies? Who would give me anything for that? And, secondly, I may as well say, once for all, I do not write with any regard to young people, I write merely for the old folks, who lie down of an afternoon on the sofa, and take a book to drive the flies from their faces, and the cares out of their heads. Thirdly, I have already three young maidens to dispose of, and any one who wants to know what a task that is may inquire of any mother of three unmarried daughters. Louise Habermann must have a husband, and would it not be a shame to leave the two little twin-apples to trundle through the world as old maids? Fourthly and lastly, I am not fitted to describe correctly the love of a lieutenant of cuira.s.siers, it is a touch beyond me, it requires the pen of a Shakespeare or a Muhlbach, and who knows whether Shakespeare himself were adequate to the task, for so far as I am informed he never ventured upon it.

In short, they were betrothed, and the wedding was held at Whitsuntide, 1843, and the Herr von So and So gave his blessing as a dowry, because it was all he had to give. Well, we will treat him like a Christian, and give him something, to wit a name,--for since he is become our father-in-law he must have a name,--so he shall be called Herr von Satrup of Seelsdorp, of which estate he owned still less than Axel of Pumpelhagen.

Frida von Satrup was an intelligent girl, and understood before her marriage that a "Herr Lieutenant" was only a large piece of a small apple, and that a "Frau Lieutenant" would be a small piece of a large apple; she stipulated, therefore, that Axel should leave the army. Axel was not unwilling, for the foolery about the "feiger" officer was not by any means over, although he bore the mark of the old colonel's blunder in red ink on his face, and he had also a great desire and purpose to turn his agricultural science into ready money, at Pumpelhagen, and therewith to pay his debts.

He took his discharge, therefore, packed his uniform, sash and epaulettes in a box, delivered, with tears in his eyes, a touching farewell address to his brave sword, laid that also in the box, nailed and sealed the box, and wrote on the top, "In case of sudden death, to be opened by my heirs," sent the whole to Pumpelhagen, was married in a black dress-suit, and started with his young bride for a journey up the Rhine.

How he made his entrance into Pumpelhagen, in the midsummer of 1843, shall be told in another place.

CHAPTER XI.

The three years which, since his father's death, Axel had spent in garrison, occupied with agriculture, heroic deeds and love-affairs, had been pa.s.sed by the dwellers in Pumpelhagen and the vicinity in much the same occupations. The agriculture was a matter of course; but the heroic deeds and the love affairs would have been wanting, if Fritz Triddelsitz, in his hours of leisure, had not turned his attention that way. His relations with Marie Moller had slipped gradually out of the motherly into the brother-and-sisterly, and from thence, on her part at least, into the tenderly affectionate, and although they were still based on a foundation of ham and sausage, Marie Moller indulged in all sorts of uncertain heavenly hopes touching priest and s.e.xton, bridal wreath, and farming and house keeping for herself, if in process of time the business should take a serious turn, while Fritz lived in fear of being discovered by Habermann at some of these private repasts, and suspected that, if his aunt and is father and mother knew of his foolish behavior, the business might take a disagreeable turn for himself. In short, his love-affairs were not altogether satisfactory, and though he thought no harm of throwing his hook here and there, for example, to the little twin-apples, and, when his aunt was off duty, to Louise Habermann, yet he was forced to confess, when he dealt honestly with himself, that his only success was with Marie Moller.

The heroic deeds of Pumpelhagen were also confined to his department.

He had at first attempted them merely against the farm-boys, and that in a quiet way, for if Habermann had known of it, the renown which he achieved upon their shoulders would have been sadly interfered with; now, however, as all went well, he grew bolder, and in an evil hour ventured to strike a stable-boy, and the rascal was so insolent as to forget all the respect due to his station, and gave him such a thrashing, in broad day-light, and Palm Sunday at that, that Marie Moller must spend the whole Sunday afternoon cooling his shoulder-blades. And the most disagreeable of all was that with every cold bandage that Marie Moller laid on his shoulders she sent a sting to his conscience, while she reminded him of all her kind deeds, and inquired about his plans and prospects, trustfully a.s.suring him that she believed in his affection and would faithfully share his future. It was very annoying, because, for his part, he believed more in his appet.i.te for ham and sausage than in his affection, and he preferred keeping his prospects to himself. He stammered out something which she did not or would not fully comprehend, and the cooler his blisters became the cooler became their relations; he tried to change the subject, she was not disposed to do so; she still applied the wet cloths, but with a less and less gentle hand.

"Triddelsitz," said she finally, "what am I to think of you?"

With that, she came round from her position behind him, and placed herself before his face, with arms akimbo.

"Mariken," said he, alarmed and confused, "what do you mean?"

"What do I mean? shall I, speak out more clearly?" exclaimed she, and the sweet, tender expression was quite gone from her eyes. "Am I a person to be made a fool of?"

Then she went back again, and slapped a cold bandage on his shoulders, with emphasis.

"Oh! Thunder!" cried Fritz, "that hurts!"

"So? It hurts, does it? Do you think it doesn't hurt me, to find that a man for whom I have done so much means to betray me?"

"Mariken, I ask you, what do you mean?"

"What do I mean? I mean"--with another emphatic bandage--"will you tell me what to think of you?"

"Thunder and lightning! That burns like fire!"

"I hope it does! I should think your conscience would burn you, deceiving a poor girl with all sorts of promises and prospects and then backing out in this way!"

"Good heavens, Marie, I am only nineteen years old."

"Well, what then?"

"I must serve somewhere else for a time, and then----"

"Well, and then?" with another wet cloth on his shoulders.

"Good heavens! You might be a little more careful, Marie."

"_You_ might be a little more careful! Well, what then?"

"Then, I must get me a farm; and all that will take ten years or more."

"Well, and then?" pursued Marie Moller, with truly infamous persistency.

"And then," stammered Fritz finally, in his distress, "by that time, you will be too old for me."

Marie Moller stood at first as if thunder-struck; poisonous glances shot from her eyes; then she bent round and threw the cloth that was in her hand right in his face, so that the water spattered over his ears.

"Too old? Impertinence! Too old, do you say?" and grasping the washbowl full of water she threw it over his head, and ran out of the room. And as Fritz stood there, gasping and snuffling, she opened the door again, and putting her head in, said,--

"Don't let me see you in my pantry again!"

Love had now received its death-blow; there was an end also of the pantry indulgences; and as Fritz stood there dripping, it seemed to him, among his confused thoughts, that the whole story did not exactly harmonize with his ideas of love, still less with the romances he had read, and he uttered in his vexation the selfsame words he had spoken at the beginning of his apprenticeship, when he was working on the road in the November rain: "It is quite different from what I thought! A good, thing, though, that the old man is not at home," added he, "or he might have heard the uproar."

Habermann had gone with Franz this morning to the Gurlitz church. He always took this walk, with still, pious thoughts, but to-day his heart was brimful of thankfulness to G.o.d, whose fatherly hand had led his child so far on her life journey, for, on this Palm Sunday morning, Louise was to be confirmed. He walked, silent and absorbed in thought, along the foot-path, his eye resting on the pleasant landscape, where the snow still lay in white streaks along side the ditches and under the shade of the dark fir-trees, and where the green, springing rye in the bright sunshine told of Easter, and preached the Resurrection. The chimney-smoke lay over the little villages, and the sun seemed to press it down, as though this token of human care and labor ought not to darken the bright world, as if there would not be room enough else for the joyous sound of the church bells, which echoed, far and wide, over field and forest.

"Ah, if she had only lived to see this day!" said the old man aloud, and as if he thought himself alone.

"Who?" asked Franz, a little shyly, as if he feared to be too inquisitive.

"My poor wife, the mother of my dear child," said the old man, softly, and looked at the young man with such friendly, honest eyes, that seemed to say, "Look into our depths and read this simple, true heart!

We will answer all thy questions, and it shall echo long in thy memory." "Yes," said he, "my good wife! But what do I say? She sees more, to-day, than I can of her child, and she does more than I can for her child; for her thoughts are higher than the blue heavens, and her joys brighter than the golden sun."

Franz walked silent by his side, he was careful not to disturb the Inspector; this old man, whom he loved, to-day seemed to him so worthy of reverence,--his white hair lay across his broad forehead, as pure as the white snow on the earth, his fresh countenance and bright eyes spoke as trustfully of the resurrection as did the springing rye, and the whole face shone with such a sunlight of love, that the young man, after a while, could no longer restrain himself, he grasped his friend's hand:

"Habermann, my dear Habermann, you have certainly lived through much sorrow."

"Not more than other people," was the reply, "and yet enough to think of, all one's life."

"Will you tell me about it? I do not ask from curiosity."

"Why not?" and he told his story; but he did not mention Pomuchelskopp's name, and he closed his narration with this remark about his child: "Yes, she was then my only comfort, and she is now my only joy!"

They came to the parsonage. The little Frau Pastorin had become a little older, and a little fuller, with time, and could not fly round quite so quickly as before; and to-day she was unusually quiet, running in n.o.body's way, and the duster lay unnoticed in its corner, as lonely as a dog under the table, for to-day the approaching solemn ceremony forbade her usual bustling about, for, as the Pastor's wife, she was the nearest.

But it was impossible for her to keep quite still, if she did not buzz about, she must at least run a little, now to fasten her Pastor's bands and bring him a gla.s.s of wine, now to Louise, to set her ruffle straight, and whisper a loving word in her ear; and when young Jochen and Frau Nussler and the little twins and Brasig all arrived together, she would certainly have forgotten herself, if the s.e.xton had not exercised his judgment, and commenced ringing for the last time. The twins were also to be confirmed to-day, and as the company were going to the church, and the Frau Pastorin looked at the three lovely children walking together across the church-yard, Louise in the middle, half a head taller than her little cousins, she said to Habermann, while tears stood in her friendly eyes, "Habermann, our child has no gold chain and brooch to wear, as is the foolish custom now-a-days; and that black silk dress, dear Habermann, is all of thirty years old. I wore it last the first time I went to church here after I was married, and a happy heart beat under it, for in that heart dwelt my Pastor; it was too small for me afterwards, for, you see, I was already growing rather stout, but it is as good as new, and n.o.body would know that it was pieced down. And, Habermann, I put the money that you gave me for a dress into Louise's money-box. You won't take it ill of me? I was so glad to see my old dress in use again."

Just before the church door Brasig pulled Habermann by the coat, and as he turned round he said, quite moved with emotion, "Karl, it is remarkable, it is really remarkable, such a confirmation! See, when I look at those three little girls walking along it reminds me of my own, and how I had got through the infamous sheep-keeping for my sainted father, and was going to begin farming. We went along just like the three little girls, Karl Brandt and Christian Guhl and I, to the church, only we didn't have black silk dresses on; no, Christian had a green, Karl a brown, and I a gray coat; and instead of the bouquets of flowers, that the little girls carry in their hands, we had little sprigs of green stuck in our b.u.t.tonholes; and instead of walking three abreast we went one behind the other, like geese in the barley. Yes, it was just so."

After a hymn had been sung by the congregation, Pastor Behrens preached his sermon. He had grown older in his appearance, but his voice was strong, and his thoughts clear as ever, and a mild and gentle spirit breathed in every word. It is certain there is no profession in which age is less of a drawback than in the ministry, when the man who holds this office has discharged it faithfully. The people do not listen to his words merely, they look at his long, upright, honorable life, and he stands before them a living example of the truth which he utters. So it was with this Pastor.