The Harvard Classics Shelf of Fiction - German Part 39

And now the next evening had come, the time for Baron Botho's promised visit. Lena was walking up and down in the front garden, but in the large front room Frau Nimptsch sat as usual by the hearth, while to-day again the whole Dorr family had grouped themselves around her. Frau Dorr was knitting with big wooden needles on a blue woolen jacket for her husband, and the work, as yet quite shapeless, lay on her lap like a great fleece. Near her, with his legs comfortably crossed, Dorr was smoking a clay pipe, while his son sat in a big grandfather's chair close to the window, leaning his red head against the "wing" of the chair. Every morning he was up by c.o.c.kcrow, so to-day he had once more fallen asleep through weariness. There was but little talk, and so nothing was to be heard but the clicking of the needles and the chattering of the squirrel, which from time to time came out of his box and gazed curiously about. The only light came from the fire on the hearth and the afterglow of the sunset.

Frau Dorr sat so that she could look along the garden path and in spite of the twilight she could see who was coming along the road, past the hedge.

"Ah, there he comes," said she. "Now, Dorr, just let your pipe go out.

You are just like a chimney to-day, puffing and smoking all day long.

And such a stinking old pipe as yours is not fit for everyone."

Dorr did not let such speeches trouble him much and before his wife could say any more or repeat her verdict, the Baron came in. He was visibly mellow, as he had just come from a punch bowl, which had been the subject of a wager at the club, and said, as he took Frau Nimptsch's hand: "Good evening, mother. I hope all is well with you.

Ah, and Frau Dorr; and Herr Dorr, my favorite old friend. See here, Dorr, what do you say to the weather? Specially ordered for you and for me too. My meadows at home, that are under water four years out of five and bear nothing but crow's foot, such weather will do them good. And it will do Lena good too; she can stay out of doors more; she is growing too pale to suit me."

Meanwhile Lena had drawn up a wooden chair near her old mother, because she knew that this was Baron Botho's favorite place; but Frau Dorr, who was fully impressed with the idea that a Baron must occupy the seat of honor, had meanwhile risen, and with the blue fleecy ma.s.s trailing after her, she called out to her stepson: "Will you get up! I say, now.

If there is nothing in him, it's no use to expect anything from him."

The poor boy stood up, all stupid and sleepy and was going to give up his seat, but the Baron would not allow it. "For heaven's sake, dear Frau Dorr, leave the poor boy alone. I would far rather sit on a bench; like my friend Dorr here."

And therewith he pushed the chair, which Lena still had ready for him, beside the old mother and said as he sat down:

"Here beside Frau Nimptsch is the best place. I know of no other fireplace that I am as fond of; there is always fire, always warmth.

Yes, Mutterchen, that is true, this is the best place."

"Oh my soul," said the old woman. "This is the best place! In an old washerwoman's house."

"Certainly. And why not? Every cla.s.s and calling is worthy of respect.

And a washerwoman too. Do you know, Mutterchen, that here in Berlin there was a famous poet who wrote a poem about his old washerwoman?"

"Is it possible?"

"Of course it is possible. Moreover it is true. And do you know what he said at the end? He said that he wished he could live and die like his old washerwoman. Yes, that is what he said."

"Is it possible?" said the old woman to herself once more, simpering a little.

"And do you know, Mutterchen, now don't you forget it, he was quite right, and I say the very same? Oh yes, you laugh to yourself. But just look about you here. How do you live? Like the good Lord in France. In the first place, you have your house and hearth, and then the garden and Frau Dorr. And then you have Lena. Haven't you? But what has become of her?"

He would have gone on talking, but just then Lena came in with a tray, on which was a carafe of water and some cider, for which the Baron had a preference not easily to be understood, but for his belief in its wonderful curative properties.

"Why Lena, how you spoil me. But you should not offer it to me so formally. It seems just as if I were at the club. You must bring it to me in your hand, it tastes best that way. And now give me your little hand, and let me stroke it. No, no, the left one; that is nearest the heart. And now sit right there, between Herr and Frau Dorr, so that you will be opposite me and I can see you all the time. I have been happy all day, looking forward to this time."

Lena laughed.

"Perhaps you don't believe it? But I can prove it to you, Lena, for I have brought you something from the fine party that we had yesterday.

And when one has a little present to bring, he always feels happy about the girl who is to receive it. Isn't that so, my dear Dorr?"

Dorr grinned, but Frau Dorr said: "Lord, he? He bring presents? Dorr is all for sc.r.a.ping and saving. That is the way with gardeners. But I am curious to see what the Herr Baron has brought."

"Well, then I will not keep you waiting any longer, or else dear Frau Dorr might think I have brought a golden slipper or some such thing out of a fairy story. But this is all it is."

And therewith he gave Lena a paper bag, from which, unless all signs failed, the fringed ends of some snapping bonbons peeped out.

They proved to be snapping bonbons and the bag was pa.s.sed around.

"But now we must pull one, Lena. Hold on tight and shut your eyes."

Frau Dorr was delighted when the cracker snapped, and still more so when Lena's forefinger began to bleed. "That doesn't hurt, Lena, I know it doesn't. It is just like a bride who p.r.i.c.ks her finger. I used to know one who was so crazy about it, that she kept p.r.i.c.king herself and sucked and sucked, as if it were something wonderful."

Lena blushed. But Frau Dorr did not notice and went on: "And now read the verse, Herr Baron."

And this is what he read:

When two forget themselves for love, G.o.d and the angels rejoice above.

"Heavens," said Frau Dorr, folding her hands. "That is just like something out of a song book. Is the verse always so pious?"

"I hope not," said Botho. "Not always. Come, dear Frau Dorr, let us pull one and see what we shall get out of it."

And then he pulled again and read:

Where Love's dart has struck well.

Wide open stand both heaven and h.e.l.l.

"Now, Frau Dorr, what do you say to that? It sounds different, doesn't it?"

"Yes," said Frau Dorr, "it sounds different. But I don't quite like it.... If I pull a bonbon...."

"Well?"

"Then I don't want anything about h.e.l.l to come out, I don't want to hear that there is any such thing."

"Nor I either," laughed Lena. "Frau Dorr is quite right: for that matter, she is always right. But really, when one reads such a verse, one has always something to start with, I mean to begin a conversation with, for the beginning is always the hardest, just as it is with writing letters. And I simply cannot imagine how you can begin a conversation at once with no more ado, with so many strange ladies, for you are not all acquainted with each other."

"Oh, my dear Lena," said Botho, "it isn't so hard as you think. It is really quite easy. If you like, I will give you a dinner-table conversation now."

Frau Dorr and Frau Nimptsch said that they would like to hear it and Lena too nodded her a.s.sent.

"Now," went on Baron Botho, "you must imagine that you are a little Countess. And I have just escorted you to the table and sat down and we are taking the first spoonful of soup."

"Very well. But what now?"

"And now I say to you: 'If I am not mistaken, I saw you yesterday at the flower show, you and your mother together. It is not surprising.

The weather entices us out every day now and we might almost say that it is fit for travelling. Have you made any plans for the summer, Countess?' And now you answer, that unfortunately nothing is settled yet, because your papa is determined to go to Bavaria, while your dearest wish is to see Saxon Switzerland with the Konigstein and the Bastei."

"It really is," laughed Lena.

"You see, that goes very well. And then I go on: 'Yes, gracious Countess, in that we share the same tastes. I prefer Saxon Switzerland to any other part of the world, even to the actual Switzerland itself.

One cannot always revel in the grander aspects of nature, and clamber and get out of breath all the time. But Saxon Switzerland! Heavenly, ideal. There is Dresden; in a quarter or a half hour I can be there, and I can see pictures, the theatre, the great gardens, the Zwinger, and the green vault. Do not neglect to see the tankard with the foolish virgins, and above all things that cherry stone, on which the whole of the Lord's prayer is carved. It can only be seen through the magnifying gla.s.s.'"