Seed-time and Harvest Part 22

Address: "To MY OWN, destined for me by FATE."

Superscription: "Sun of my darkened Soul!!"

"Dost thou know what _h.e.l.l-torments_ are? I suffered them yesterday afternoon, at two o'clock, when I was strewing manure. The air was free, the enemy was in the clover-field, and thy handkerchief fluttered like one of my white pigeons in the perfumed air. I was just upon the point of giving the pre-arranged signal of three whistles, when that old horned beast of a Brasig came up to me, and stood talking a whole hour, about the manure. When he was gone, I rushed down to the water-ditch, but, vinegar!

"The time had seemed long to thee, and thou wert gone! But now, _listen_! This evening, punctually at half past eight, when I have eaten my sour milk, I will be at the _place of rendezvous_; to-day is Sat.u.r.day, the Pastor is writing his sermon, and the _dragon_ is cleaning house; the _opportunity_ is favorable, and the underbrush will conceal us there. (Schiller.) Wait but a little, thou too shalt rest, (Goethe) in the arms of thy DEVOTED ONE, who would sell all that is dear to him, to buy with it something dear to thee.

"Oh, meeting blest! Oh, meeting blest!

Awaiting which I calmly rest, And all my longing, all my dreams, Bury in Lethe's silent stream.

I shall behold thee, dear, once more.

When the waves wash me to the sh.o.r.e, So farewell, yet not in sorrow, We shall meet again to-morrow!

"The _beginning_ is my own, the _middle_ from Schiller, and the _end_ from a certain Anonymous, who has written a great deal; but I altered it a little to suit my purpose.

"With torments of longing,

"THINE OWN."

"Well!" exclaimed the little Frau Pastorin, when she read this patch work, "This goes beyond everything! Yes, my dear sister, you have brought up a beautiful plant, and it bears fine fruit. But other people must trim and prune it, and I think, as his aunt, I am the nearest to him. And I'll do it!" she cried, in a loud voice, stamping her little foot, "and I should like to see who will hinder me!"

"I for one would not think of it, Frau Pastorin," said Brasig, who had come up, unperceived, behind the bee-hives.

"Have you been listening, Brasig?" asked the Frau Pastorin, still in an excited tone.

"Listening?" said Brasig, "I never listen; I only keep my ears open, and then I hear something, and I keep my eyes open, and see something.

For instance, I see now that you are provoked about something."

"It is true; but it is enough to drive an angel wild."

"No, Frau Pastorin, the angels have enough to do with their wings; we need not incommode them about our matters, but if you want to see something wild, I believe the devil has broken loose here in Pumpelhagen."

"Good heavens, has Fritz----"

"No, I didn't say so;" said Brasig; "I don't know what it is; but there is something going on."

"What is it, then?"

"Frau Pastorin, Habermann is irritable, and when that is the case, you may be sure there is some disagreeable business in the wind. You see, a few days ago, I came to Pumpelhagen, when he was busy with the hay and the rape harvest, and I said, 'Good morning,' says I. 'Good morning,'

says he. 'Karl,' says I, and was going on to say something, when he interrupts: 'Have you seen my Triddelsitz anywhere?' 'Yes,' said I.

'Where?' asked he. 'Sitting in the great water-ditch,' said I. 'Did you see young Herr von Rambow anywhere?' asked he. 'He is sitting in the next ditch close by,' said I. 'What are they doing?' asked he. 'They are playing,' said I. 'You are joking,' said he, 'playing at this busy time?' 'Yes, Karl,' said I, 'and I have been playing too.' 'What have you played then?' asked he. 'Bo-peep, Karl. See! there is your greyhound peeping over the ditch towards Gurlitz, and your n.o.bleman is peeping after the greyhound, and I was peeping out of the marl-pit after both of them, and when one turned his head, the other ducked, and so we sat there, peeping and ducking alternately, till the thing grew rather tedious to me, so I went boldly up the n.o.bleman. "Good day,"

said I. "Good day," said he. "Begging your pardon," said I, "what sort of farm-work are you doing here?" "I?" said he, and stammered, "I was looking after our peas, whether they were filling out well." "Hem!"

said I. "So?" said I. "Well!" said I, "good morning," and went towards the greyhound.' You won't mind it, Frau Pastorin, I always call your nephew so."

Not at all, said the Frau Pastorin, she called him worse names, herself.

"'Good day!' said I, 'what sort of work are you doing?' 'Oh, nothing just now,' said he, going off, like a whipped hound, 'I have been looking after the peas.' 'Karl!' said I to Habermann, 'if your peas fill up according as they are looked after, you will have a plentiful harvest.' 'The cuckoo knows,' said he, terribly provoked, 'both of them are as stupid as possible; I can't make out the young Herr at all, this summer; he goes about like a man in a dream, forgets everything I tell him, and is no longer always up to the mark, as he used to be; and the other stupid fellow is worse than ever.' You don't mind Habermann calling your Herr Nephew a stupid fellow, Frau Pastorin?"

"G.o.d forbid!" said the Frau Pastorin, "Habermann has reason."

"You see, this was, say, a week ago,--now I started out yesterday morning early with my fishing rod, to see if the perch would bite; what do I see? Your Herr Nephew, the greyhound, goes slyly down here into the garden, and after a while comes out again, and behind him creeps along the n.o.bleman among the bushes, and along side the ditch, as if he were tracking a fox, and when he has gone past my place of observation, there comes my good Karl Habermann over the hill, following the other, and when he had pa.s.sed, I went on behind him, and so we went in a great curve, with wide s.p.a.ces between us, clear down around the village, each one seeing only the man in front of him, which I found extremely amusing. They will do it again to-morrow probably, and if you would like to see the fun, Frau Pastorin, or the Herr Pastor, you can come in behind me, for Habermann says he shall make thorough work of the business, and he has been after them three times already."

"Thank you very much for the proposal," said the Frau Pastorin; "I have had amus.e.m.e.nt enough already, from this affair. Can you keep a secret, Brasig?"

"Like a sieve, with a hole in it."

"No; jesting aside, can you be silent?"

"Utterly," said Brasig, striking his hand over his mouth.

"Well, then listen," said the Frau Pastorin, and told him what she knew.

"Why, he really is a stupid fellow, then, your Herr Nephew!" said Brasig, and Frau Pastorin read him the letter.

"But, Frau Pastorin, how did this stupid fellow get such a command of language? He is stupid, to be sure, but his writing is not so stupid, he writes like a poet." And when Frau Pastorin read about the dragon, Brasig laughed merrily: "He means you, Frau Pastorin."

"I know that," said she shortly, "but the horned beast here, in the third letter, means you; and we have nothing to hold us back. The thing to be done is simply this; let me get hold of the fellow, and I will wash his head for him."

"You are right, and nothing is easier. You see, we two, you and I, will hide here in the garden, about eight o'clock; at half past eight, take Louise, and seat her in the water-ditch, and you shall see, he will come, like a bear after honey, and when he has began to lick it, we two will break loose and catch him."

"Ah, you are not very cunning, Brasig. If I am to tie the business to the big bell, I don't need your a.s.sistance, It would be a great pity for Louise to have anything to do with it; Habermann too, and even my Pastor himself need know nothing of the matter."

"Hm, hm!" said Brasig, "then--then--hold! I have it; Frau Pastorin you must make yourself as thin as possible, and put on Louise's dress, and go to the rendezvous, and when he comes, and sits down by you, and begins to caress you, you must catch him, so, by the throat, and hold on until I come;" and with that he laid hold of the Frau Pastorin's nearest hand, to ill.u.s.trate his remarks.

"You are imprudent, Brasig."

"Yes, you say so, Frau Pastorin; but if he doesn't see his dearest sitting in the ditch, he won't come down, and if we don't take him unawares, we may whistle for him, for he is a confoundedly long-legged, thin-ribbed hound, and we can never chase after him with our short legs and our corpulence."

That was true, to be sure; but no! should she go to a rendezvous?

Brasig was going quite too far, and, besides, how could she get Louise's clothes? But Brasig was not dismayed, he represented to her that it was merely an interview with her own nephew, and that, if she sat on the edge of the ditch, she need only wear Louise's shawl, and her Italian straw hat: "But you must keep sitting, for, if you should stand up, he will see in a minute that you are a foot shorter than Louise, and that you are a foot larger round the waist."

Finally,--finally, the Frau Pastorin let herself be persuaded, and as she went out about eight o'clock that evening, through the back door, dressed in Louise's hat and shawl, the Herr Pastor, who stood at the window, in deep thought over his sermon, said to himself, "Good heavens! where is Regina going, with Louise's hat and shawl? And there comes Brasig, out of the arbor. Well, he will come in, if he wants to see me; but it is very singular!"

The Frau Pastorin went along the garden walk with Brasig prepared for any emergency, opened the garden gate, and went through it alone, while Brasig remained in the garden, and ensconced himself behind the fence.

"Brasig," said she, as the thought occurred to her, "you will be too far off here; come down with me to the ditch, for when I have caught him, I must have you close by."

"All right!" said Brasig, and followed het down to the ditch.

Such a ditch, as this water-ditch was, is not often seen now-a-days; for out modern system of drains has made them unnecessary; but every old farmer remembers them, how they were dug through a field, sixteen or twenty feet from bank to bank, but narrow at the bottom, bordered right and left with thorn-bushes, nearly always dry, only in spring and fall there was perhaps a foot and a half of water; and occasionally in summer also, after a heavy rain. This was the case at present.

"Brasig," said the little Frau Pastorin, "lie down behind that bush, close by me, so that you can come quickly to my help."

"Why not? all right," said Brasig. "But, Frau Pastorin, you must think up some catch-word, upon which I shall break loose."

"Yes, surely. Yes, that is necessary; but what? Wait a moment! when I cry, 'The Philistines be upon thee,' then you must spring out."