The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume Viii Part 40

"When with tender Silvery light Luna peeps the clouds between, And 'spite of dark disastrous night The radiant sun is also seen When the wavelets murmuring flow When oak and ivy clinging grow, Then, O then, in that witching hour Let us meet _in my_ lady's bow'r.

"Where'er thy joyous step doth go Love waits upon thee ever, The spring-flow'rs in my hat do show I'll cease to love thee never.

When thou'rt gone from out my sight Vanished is my sole delight, _Alas!_ Thou ne'er canst understand What I've suffered at thy hand.

"My _vengeance_ dire! will fall on him, The foe who has hurt me sore, Hurt _me!_ who writes this poem here; _Revenge!!_ I'll seek for evermore.

FREDERIC TRIDDELFITZ.

_Pumpelhagen, July 3d, 1842._"

The first time that Louisa read this effusion she could make nothing of it, when she had read it twice she did not understand it a bit better, and after the third reading she was as far from comprehending it as she had been at first; that is to say, she could not make out who it was on whom the unhappy poet wished to be revenged. She was not so stupid as not to know that the "Her" was intended for herself.

She would have liked to have been able to think that the whole affair was only a silly joke, but when she remembered Fred's odd manner she was obliged to confess that it was anything but a joke, and so she determined to keep as much as possible out of his way. She was such a tender-hearted little creature that she was full of compa.s.sion for Fred's sufferings. Now pity is a bridge that often leads to the beautiful meadows stretched on the other side of it full of rose-bushes and jasmine-hedges, which are as attractive to a maiden of seventeen as cherries to a bird, and who knows whether Louisa might not have been induced to wander in those pleasant groves, had she not been restrained by the thought of Fred riding amongst the roses on the old sorrel-horse, holding a great slice of bread and b.u.t.ter in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. In spite of her compa.s.sion for him she could not help laughing, and so remained safely on this side of the bridge; she liked best to watch Fred from a distance, for the sorrel might have lain down in the pond again, and Fred might have smeared her with the bread and b.u.t.ter. The stupidest lads under the sun may often win the love of girls of seventeen, and even men with only an apology for a heart are sometimes successful, but alas for the young fellow who has ever condescended to wear motley, he can never hope to win his lady's affection, for nothing is so destructive to young love as a hearty fit of laughter.

Louisa could not restrain her laughter when she thought of the ludicrous scene that had just taken place, but she suddenly stopped in the midst of her merriment, for she felt as if a soft hand had just taken hers, and as if a pair of dark eyes were looking at her affectionately.

Perhaps this thought may have come into her head because she caught sight of Frank coming toward her from the distance. The next moment it flashed into her mind that it was Frank on whom Fred wished to be revenged, and so when they met a deep blush overspread her face, and feeling that that was the case made her so angry with herself that she blushed even deeper than before. Frank spoke to her in his usual courteous manner about indifferent things, but she was strangely shy, and answered him at cross-purposes, for her mind was full of Fred and his vows of vengeance.

"Heaven knows what's the matter," thought Frank as he was returning home after having walked a short way with her, "she isn't at all like herself today. Is it my fault? Has she had anything to vex or annoy her? What was that piece of paper she was tearing up?" Meanwhile he had reached the place where he had met her. Some of the bits of paper were still lying on the ground, and he saw on one of them, without picking it up: "_Revenge!_ I'll seek for evermore. Frederic Triddelfitz." This made him curious, for he knew Fred's handwriting, so he looked about and found two more bits of paper, but when he put them together he could make nothing more out of them but "clinging grows * * * that witching hour *

* * meet in my lady's bow'r. * * * Spring flowers. * * * I'll cease to *

* * from out my sight * * * my sole delight. * * * _Alas!_ thou ne'er *

* * my _vengeance_ dire! * * * The foe * * * _Revenge!!_ I'll seek for evermore. Frederic Triddelfitz." The wind had blown away all the rest.

There was not much to be made out of it, but after a time Frank came to the conclusion that Fred Triddelfitz was in love with Louisa, dogged her footsteps, and wanted to be revenged on her for some reason only known to himself. It was a ridiculous affair altogether, but still when he remembered that Fred Triddelfitz was as full of tricks as a donkey's hide of gray hair, and that he might easily do something that would be of great annoyance to Louisa, Frank determined to keep watch, and not to let Fred out of his sight when he went in the direction of Gurlitz.

Fred had broken the ice, he had spoken, he had done his part, and it was now Louisa's turn to speak if anything was to come of it. He waited, and watched, and got no answer. "It's a horrid shame," he said to himself.

"But she isn't up to this sort of thing yet, I must show her what she ought to do." Then he sat down and wrote a letter in a feigned hand.

Address: "To Her that you know of.

Inscription: "Sweet Dream of my soul!

"This letter can tell you nothing, it only contains what is absolutely necessary for you to learn, and you will find it in the _third_ rose-bush in the _second_ row. I'll tell you the rest by word of mouth, and will only add: Whenever you see a _cross_ drawn in white _chalk_ on the garden-door, you will find the disclosure of my sentiments under the flower-pot beside the third rose-bush in the Second row. The _waving_ of a _pocket-handkerchief_ on the _Gurlitz_ side of the house will be a token of your presence, and of your desiring an interview; _my_ signal, on the other hand, will be _whistling_ three times on the crook of my stick. (Our shepherd taught me how to do it, and love makes everything easy to learn.) _Randyvoo:_ The large ditch to the _right_ of the bridge.

"Ever thine!!

"From Him whom you know of."

"P.S. Pardon me for having written this in my shirt-sleeves, it is such a frightfully hot day.----"

This letter fell into the wrong hands, for it was Mrs. Behrens who found it when she went out to water her flowers, whilst Louisa, who was now a notable little housekeeper, was busy indoors making gooseberry jam. The clergyman's wife had no scruples about opening and reading the letter, and after she had done so she was quite convinced that it was intended for Louisa, and had been written by her nephew Fred.

She could not tell Louisa of her discovery, for that would simply have been playing into Fred's hands, she had therefore to content herself with talking of letters in general, and trying to find out in a roundabout kind of way whether Louisa had received any epistles such as she had in her pocket, but as the girl did not understand what she meant, she determined not to tell her pastor what had happened. For, she thought, why should she make him angry by telling him of the foolish boy's love troubles, and besides that, it would have been very painful for her to have to give evidence against her own flesh and blood--and unfortunately Fred was her sister's son. But she wished with all her heart that she could have had a few minutes' quiet talk with the culprit himself, and that was impossible, for she never saw him by any chance.

She was very silent and thoughtful for a few days, and took the entire charge of watering the flowers into her own hands. It was just as well that she did so, for soon afterward she found a letter drenched with rain under the third rose-bush in the second row. This letter was still more to the point than the last:

Address: "To _Her_, the _only_ woman I adore.

Inscription: "Soul of my existence!!

"We are surrounded by pitfalls; I am aware that our foe watches my every step. Cowardly _spy_, I _scorn_ you! Have no fear, Beloved, I will conquer all difficulties. One bold deed will bring our love _recognition._ At two o'clock tomorrow afternoon, when the _Dragon_ is asleep that guards my _treasure,_ I shall expect to See your signal with the pocket-handkerchief. As for myself, I shall then be hidden behind the manure heap on the bank beside the large ditch, and shall whistle three times on the crook of my stick to entice you to come to me.

And--even though the powers of h.e.l.l should fight against me--I have sworn to be ever

THINE"

Mrs. Behrens was furious when she read this letter. "The * * *! The * *

*! Oh you young rascal! 'When the dragon is asleep!' The wretch means me by that! But wait a bit! I'll entice _you_ to come to _me,_ and though the powers of h.e.l.l won't touch you, if once I get hold of you, I'll give you such a box on the ear as you never had before!"

About two o'clock next day, Mrs. Behrens rose from her sofa and went into the garden. The parlor-door creaked and the garden-door banged as she went out, and the parson, hearing the noise, looked out at the window to see what it was that took his wife out at that unusual hour, for as a general rule she did not move from her sofa till three had struck. He saw her go behind a bush and wave her pocket-handkerchief.

"She's making signs to Hawermann, of course," said he, and then he went and lay down again. But the fact of the matter is that she only wanted to show her sister's son how much she longed to get within reach of his ears. But he did not come, nor yet were his three whistles to be heard.

She returned to her room very crossly, and when her husband asked her at coffee time to whom she had been making signals in the garden, she was so overwhelmed with confusion that in spite of being a clergyman's wife--I am sorry to have to confess it--she told a lie, and said that she had found it so frightfully close she had been fanning herself a little.

On the third day after that she found another letter:

Address: "To _Her_ who is intended for me by _Fate._ Inscription: "_Sun_ of my dark existence!!

"Have you ever suffered the _pains of h.e.l.l?_ I have been enduring them since two o'clock in the afternoon of the day before yesterday when I was hidden behind the manure-heap. The weather was lovely, our _foe_ was busy in the clover-field, and your handkerchief was waving in the perfumed air like one of those tumbler pigeons I used to have long ago.

I was just about to utter the three _whistles_ we had agreed upon, when that stupid old _a.s.s_ Brasig came up to me, and talked to me for a _whole hour by the clock_ about the farm. As soon as he was gone I hastened to the ditch, but, _oh agony!_ I was terribly disappointed. The time must have seemed very long to you, for you were gone.--But now, _listen._ As soon as I have finished my curds and cream this evening I shall start for the place of _Randyvoo_ where I shall be hidden punctually at _half-past eight._ This is Sat.u.r.day, so the parson will be writing his sermon, and the _Dragon_ will be busy, so it is a favorable _opportunity_ for us to meet, and the _alder-bushes_ will screen us from every eye. (Schiller!) Wait awhile--thy rest comes presently (Gothe) in the _arms_ of thy _adorer,_ who would _sell_ all that is dear to him, if he could _buy_ what is dear to thee with the proceeds.

"Again to meet! again to meet!

Till then I fain would sleep; My longings and my thoughts to steep In Lethe's waters dark and deep.

My loved one I again shall see, There's rapture in the thought!

In the hope tomorrow of thee, My darling, I fear nought.

"(The _beginning_ is by myself, the _middle_ part by Schiller, and the _end_ by a certain person called Anonymous who writes a great deal of poetry, but I have altered his lines to suit the present case.)

"_In an agony of longing to see you, EVER THINE._"

"_No!_" cried little Mrs. Behrens when she had read the letter. "This is really too much of a good thing! Ah, my dear sister, I'm sorry for you!

Well, it's high time for _other_ people to interfere, and I think that being his aunt, I am the proper person to do so. And I will do it," she exclaimed aloud, stamping her foot emphatically, "and I should like to see who'd dare to prevent me!"

"I promise not to interfere with you, Mrs. Behrens," said Brasig, coming from behind the bee-hives.

"Have you been listening, Brasig?" asked Mrs. Behrens rather sharply.

"'Listening!' I never listen! I only keep my ears open, and then I hear what's going on; and I keep my eyes open, and see what pa.s.ses before me.

For instance, I see that you are very cross." "Yes, but it's enough to drive an angel wild." "Ah, Mrs. Behrens, the angels are wild enough already in all conscience, but we don't need to speak of them just now, for I believe that the devil himself is going about Pumpelhagen."

"Goodness gracious me! Has Fred * * *?" "No," answered Brasig, "I don't know what it is, but certainly there's something up." "How?" "Mrs.

Behrens, Hawermann is in a bad humor, and that is enough to show you that something unpleasant is going on. When I went to Pumpelhagen last week I found him busy with the hay and rape-harvest, and said: 'Good-morning,' I said. 'Good-morning,' said he. 'Charles,' I began, and was going to have said something when he interrupted me by asking: 'Have you seen Triddelfitz anywhere?' 'Yes,' I answered. 'Where?' he asked. 'Sitting in the large ditch,' I said. 'Did you see young Mr. von Rambow?' he asked. 'He's sitting in the next ditch close behind Fred,' I replied. 'What are they doing?' he asked. 'Playing,' I said. 'You don't give me much comfort,' he said, '_playing_, when there's so much to be done!' 'Yes, Charles,' I said, 'and I played with them.' 'What were you playing at?' he asked. 'We had a game at 'I spy,' Charles. You must understand that your gray-hound was peeping over the edge of the ditch toward Gurlitz, and your young n.o.bleman was watching the gray-hound, so I hid myself in the marl-pit, and watched them both. Whenever one of them turned the others ducked, so there we sat peeping and ducking till at last I found it a very tiresome amus.e.m.e.nt, and, leaving my hiding-place, went to join Mr. von Rambow.' 'Good-day,' I said.

'Good-day,' he replied. 'Pardon me,' I said, 'but which of your farming-operations is it that is occupying your attention just now?'

'I,' he stammered, 'w--wanted to see how the peas were getting on!'

'H'm!' I said. 'Ah!' I said. 'I understand.' Then I bade him 'good-by,'

and went to have a look at the gray-hound. Don't be angry, Mrs. Behrens, but that's what I always call your nephew." "Not at all, not at all!"

cried the little lady, though her own name for him was different. Then Brasig continued: "'Good-day,' I said, 'may I ask what you are doing here?' 'Oh, nothing in particular,' he said, looking rather foolish, 'I'm only looking at the peas.' 'Now, Charles,' I said, 'if you can get the peas staked by setting those two lads to look at them, why all that I can say is that you're a deuced lucky fellow.' 'The devil take it!' he said, 'they're both up to some folly. Mr. von Rambow is quite changed this summer, he isn't like the same person. He goes about in a dream, forgets all that I tell him, and so I can't rely on him as I used to do.

And as for that other stupid dolt, he's worse than ever.' Now, Mrs.

Behrens, pray don't be angry with Hawermann for calling your nephew a 'stupid dolt.'" "Certainly not," replied Mrs. Behrens, "for that's just what he is." "Well, you see that all happened a week ago, but this morning I went out early with my fishing-rod to try whether I couldn't catch a few trout, when just as I was coming in this direction I caught sight of your nephew, the gray-hound. He slipped cautiously into the garden, and after remaining there for a few minutes, came out again.

Meanwhile I perceived that the young n.o.bleman was watching him from amongst the thorn-bushes by the side of the ditch; but what was my astonishment when I saw that my good old friend Charles Hawermann was following them on the hill-side. I brought up the rear, and so we all went on in single file quite round the village, and I couldn't help laughing when I thought that each of us only knew of the presence of the game he was stalking, and was totally unaware that he himself was being stalked in his turn. We're all to be at it again tomorrow I believe, for Hawermann, who has followed them twice already, is determined to get to the bottom of the mystery; so if either you or the parson has a fancy to join us in the hunt, you can follow me." "Thanks very much," said Mrs.

Behrens, "but I've got my part to play already. Brasig, can you keep a secret?" "Like a safe when the padlock is on," he answered. "No, no. Do be serious. Can you be silent?" "I beg your pardon," he said gravely, and clapped his hand on his mouth in token of shame at his ill-timed jesting, though had any one else done it, he would have given him a black eye for his pains. "Why well then, listen," said Mrs. Behrens, who now proceeded to relate all that she knew of the affair. "Wheugh!"

whistled Brasig, "what a fool that nephew of yours is." Mrs. Behrens then read him the letters she had found. "Hang it," cried Brasig, "where did the young rascal get that grand way of expressing himself. Stupid as he is in other matters, he can write much better than one would expect."

When she came to the bit about the dragon Brasig laughed heartily, and said:

"That's you, Mrs. Behrens, that's you!" "I know," she answered sharply, "but the a.s.s in the third letter is intended for you, so neither of us need laugh at the other. But now, Brasig, you see that it's quite necessary that I should get hold of the little wretch, and box his ears well for him." "You're quite right, and it's easily managed. Listen. You and I must hide at the bottom of the garden at eight o'clock this evening; at half past eight, Louisa must take her place in the ditch, and you'll see that he'll come like a bear to wild honey; and then we'll spring out upon him, and take him prisoner before he knows where he is."

"That won't do at all, Brasig. If I were going to act in that sort of way I shouldn't require your help. It would be a great misfortune if Louisa were ever to know anything about this, and I'd rather that neither Hawermann nor even my pastor should hear of it." "H'm, h'm!"

said Brasig. "Then * * * then * * * Stop! I have it now. Mrs. Behrens, you must make yourself as thin as possible, put on Louisa's clothes, and go to the _randyvoo_ in her stead. Then, as soon as he is seated by your side, and is on the point of kissing you, you must seize him by the scruff of the neck, and hold on till I come." "Nay, Brasig, that would never do!" "Don't you think so, Mrs. Behrens? You understand that if he doesn't see his sweet-heart in the ditch, you'll never manage to inveigle him there; and if we don't nab him unexpectedly, we'll never succeed in catching him, for he's a long-legged, thin-flanked gray-hound, and if it came to a race, we'd be nowhere with our short legs and round bodies." It was quite true; but no! she go to a _rendezvous_? And Brasig was very stupid, how could she ever get into Louisa's gown? But Brasig would not be convinced, he maintained that it was the only way in which she could get the interview she wanted with her nephew, and a.s.sured her that all she had to do was to put on Louisa's shawl and Leghorn hat, and then go and sit on the edge of the ditch. "You must remember to sit down," he continued, "for if you remain standing he will see at once that you're a foot shorter, and at least a foot broader than Louisa." At last--at last Mrs. Behrens allowed herself to be persuaded, and when she went out at the back-door about eight o'clock that evening, wearing Louisa's shawl and hat, the parson who was standing at his study-window thinking over his sermon, said to himself wonderingly: "What on earth is Regina doing with Louisa's hat and shawl?