The next morning came Braesig in good season, to go with Habermann to
Pumpelhagen. The young wife sat in the living-room, and was paying off
the work-people; Jochen sat close by her, and smoked tobacco,--he
attended to that business. The old people were not yet visible, for
grandmother had said to her daughter-in-law, she at least could not go
out to-day, since she had nothing to put on her head; and grandfather
had said that merry-making would go on better without him.
"It is really considerate of the old people," said Braesig, "not to
spoil our dinner; for, Madam Nuessler, I am going to stay here to dinner
to-day, with Karl. But, Karl, we must go. Good-bye, little rogues!"
As they went through the farm-yard, Braesig all of a sudden stood still.
"Just see, Karl, doesn't it look like the desert of Sahara? Here a
dung-heap and there a dung-heap! And yet, see, old Jochen has had these
ditches opened, so that all the dirty water can run off, in a body, to
the village pond. And then the roofs!" said he, walking on. "They have
straw enough for new roofs,--it is merely that the old folks grudge
the expense of repairing them. I come here properly only from two
motives,--one relates to my health, the other to my heart; for I find
that it agrees with me, when I have eaten too hearty a dinner, to get
comfortably angry, and, on account of my heart, I go for the sake of
your sister and the little rogues, since I can be of some assistance to
her. For young Jochen behaves usually quite too much like a wheel on a
baggage-wagon, in the winter, between here and Rostock. If I could but
once have him before a cart, with three or four on top of the load, and
then lay on the whip!"
"See," said Habermann, as they went through a field, "they have some
fine-looking wheat there."
"Oh, yes, it has a good color; but what do you think they sow here?
Rye! And why so? Because old Jochen, for twenty-five years, has always
had rye in the winter field."
"Does this field extend over the hill yonder?"
"No, Karl, the old lynx is not so fat as that; fry lard in butter, and
eat it with a spoon! No, Karl, that field over the hill happens to be
mine."
"Eh, how one can forget, in a couple of years! So your land comes thus
far?"
"Yes, Karl, for Warnitz stretches out finely in length; on this side it
comes to this point, and on the other it turns round toward Haunerwiem.
But see here, from this rising-ground I can show you the whole region.
Where we stand belongs to your brother-in-law, and his land goes on the
right up to my wheat, and on the left to that little clump of firs, for
Rexow is quite small. He has also a small field on the other side of
the hamlet. The land to the right, behind my wheat field, also belongs
to Warnitz, and before us, where the ploughed ground begins, lies
Pumpelhagen; and here on the left, behind the fir-trees, is Gurlitz."
"Warnitz is then the largest?"
"No, Karl, not so either. Pumpelhagen has eight lasts more, and is a
first-class estate also in value,--two-and-forty lasts natural wheat
land. Yes, if the rest were all of a piece! No, the Kammerrath is a
good man, and a good countryman; but you see, there he sits in
Schwerin, and cannot trouble himself about Pumpelhagen, where he has
often had _such_ inspectors! And he bought the property in dear times,
and a crowd of leeches stand ready to drain the last drop from his
veins; and then his lady, the Kammerraethin, rides grandly in her
carriage visiting and entertaining. But he is the right sort of man,
and is good to his people, and although the von Rambows are of old
descent,--for my gracious Herr Count often invites him to dinner, and
he thinks a great deal of ancestry,--yet he carries himself quite
pleasantly and without any formality."
Habermann had listened attentively to this information, for these
things might by a fortunate chance have some connection with his
future; but, interested as he was, his thoughts still recurred to his
present difficulty. "Braesig," said he, "have you any idea in your head
about my little girl?"
"What wouldn't I do for her, Karl! But--the devil knows! I believe we
must after all go to the city to Kurz, the merchant. She, Frau Kurz, is
a good sort of woman, and he--well, he is in the vocative, like all
shop-keepers. Just think, last summer the rascal sold me a piece of
stuff for breeches, for Sunday wear; it was a kind of chocolate-colour.
And, think, when I went one morning in the dew, through my clover, they
turned up to the knee, like a mess of crabs, pure scarlet! And he sent
me some Kuemmel, the Prussian kind, the old sweet-meats, tinkered up
with all sorts of drops. But I sent it back to him again, with a good
scolding; the breeches, however, he would not take back, and sent me
word he didn't wear breeches. No, did the rascal think I was going to
wear red ones! And Karl, see, here at the left is Gurlitz.
"Is that the Gurlitz church-tower?" asked Habermann.
"Yes, Karl,"--and Braesig stood still, turned up his nose, sent
his eyebrows up under his cocked hat,--for he wore a hat on
Sundays,--opened his mouth wide, and stared at Habermann with a pair of
eyes which seemed to look him through and through, and then lose
themselves in the distance.
"Karl!" he cried finally, "since you speak of the church-tower,--God
bless you! the Gurlitz pastor must take your little girl."
"Pastor Behrens?" asked Habermann.
"Yes, Pastor Behrens, who was our private instructor at old
Knirkstaedt's."
"Ah, Braesig, I will confess I have thought of it almost the whole
night, whether that would be possible, if I should remain in the
neighbourhood."
"Possible? He must! He would like nothing better than to have a little
child growing up near him, since he himself has no children; and he has
rented his farm, and now has nothing to do but to read and study his
books, which it would make another man turn green and yellow merely to
look at from a distance. That is what he enjoys! And she, the Frau
Pastorin, is so fond of children, that all the girls in the village tag
after her; and she is an excellent, kind-hearted woman, and always
cheerful, and the best of friends with your sister."
"Ah, if that might be!" exclaimed Habermann. "You and I owe everything
to that man, Zachary! Do you remember, when he was still a candidate,
at old Knirkstaedt's, how he gave us private lessons in the winter
evenings, and taught us writing and arithmetic, and what a friend he
was to us two stupid youngsters?"
"Yes, Karl, and how Zamel Pomuchelskopp used to lie and snore of an
evening, till the beams shook, while we were in the pursuit of
learning. Do you remember, in the arithmetic, when we came to the Rule
of Three,--you seek the fourth unknown quantity, and first get the
ratio, and then it goes! In quickness I was your superior, but you were
mine in accuracy, and also in orthography. But in letter-writing and in
High-German, then I was better again; and these last I have ever since
studied diligently, for every man has his favorite pursuit. And when I
go to see the Pastor, I always thank him for his assistance in my
education; and then he laughs, and says he is more indebted to me,
because I have rented his farm for him, and he is now sure of a good
contract. He thinks something of me, and if you stay here, we will go
over to him, and you shall see he will do it."
By this time they had arrived at Pumpelhagen, and Braesig quite
impressed Habermann by his distinguished manners, as he sailed up to
the old servant, and inquired if the Herr Kammerrath was at home, and
could be spoken with.
He would announce the gentlemen the man said; wasn't it the Herr
Inspector, Braesig?
"Yes," said Braesig. "Do you see, Karl he knows me, and the Herr
Kammerrath knows me too. And, did you notice? regularly announcing us!
The nobility don't do things meanly. My gracious Herr Count always has
people announced to him by three servants; that is, one announces to
the other, until the valet finally announces to him, and by this custom
we sometimes have amusing occurrences,--as, the other day, with the
kammerjaeger. The first announced to the second, instead of kammerjaeger,
oberjaeger, and the second added a meister, and the third announced to
the Herr Count an oberjaegermeister; and, as my gracious Herr Count
prepared to receive the strange gentleman with proper ceremony, it was
the old rat-catcher Tibaul."
The servant came back, and led them into a spacious room, which was
very comfortably but not splendidly furnished. In the centre stood a
large, plain table, covered with papers and accounts. Behind the table
stood, as they entered, a rather tall, thin man, who had on his face a
thoughtful expression, and in his whole appearance an air of quiet
reflection; and in his dress, although it was quite suited to his
circumstances, there was the same simplicity as in the furnishing of
the room. He might have been about fifty, and his sandy hair was
thickly sprinkled with gray; also he was evidently quite shortsighted,
for, as he came around the table to receive the two guests, he reached
after an eye-glass, which, however, he did not use, but went up close
to his visitors. "Ah, Herr Inspector Braesig," said he quietly. "What
can I do for you?"
Uncle Braesig was so put out in his elaborate address, that he could not
collect himself of a sudden; not to hurry him, the Herr Kammerrath
looked quite closely at Habermann. "You want---- But," he interrupted
himself, "I ought to know you. Wait a moment,--were you not for ten or
twelve years in service with my brother?"
"Yes, Herr Kammerrath, and my name is Habermann."
"Right, right! And to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you here?"
"I have understood that the Herr Kammerrath was looking for an
inspector; and as I am in search of such a place----"
"But you have a farm in Pomerania, as I think I have heard,"
interrupted the proprietor.
But now it was high time for Braesig, if he had anything of importance
to say, to charge into the midst. "That he had, Herr Kammerrath von
Rambow, he _had_ it, but the Jews will give nothing for it now. He,
like many another farmer, got into difficulties, and the pitiful
meanness and baseness of his landlord have ruined him. What do you say
to that, Herr Kammerrath?"
Behind the old fellow's back at these words sounded a hearty laugh, and
as he looked around he saw the bright face of a ten or twelve years'
old boy, which seemed to say, "Wait a bit, there is more coming." The
Kammerrath also turned his face away to laugh a little; but happily for
uncle Braesig, it never occurred to him that the laughing was from any
other cause than natural pleasure at his well-chosen language. He
concluded therefore, quite seriously. "And so he has gone head over
heels."
"I am heartily sorry," said the Kammerrath; "Yes," he added with a
sigh, "these are hard times for the countrymen; but we must hope that
they will improve. As regards your wish,--Axel, go out and see if
breakfast is ready,--your supposition is correct. I have just dismissed
my late inspector,--I will tell you, because of carelessness in his
accounts,--and I am looking for a suitable man to fill his place. But,"
said he, as his son appeared at the door, and announced that breakfast
was ready, "if you have not yet breakfasted, we can arrange the matter
best at the breakfast-table."
With that, he went to the door, but stood there, and made a motion with
his hand for them to pass out first. "Karl," whispered Braesig, "didn't
I tell you? Just like one of us!" But as Habermann quietly passed on,
accepting the invitation, he threw up his eyebrows, and stretched out
his hand as if he would draw his friend back by the coat-tails, then
stood with his little twisted legs turned out, and bowed like a
clasp-knife.
"Eh, how could I! I beseech you! Herr Kammerrath should always have
precedence!" And his waiting was not of a bad order, for he had a long
body and short legs, and they belong properly to waiters.
The Herr Kammerrath had to take himself out of the way of his
compliments, that the old fellow might not dislocate his spine. At the
breakfast-table the business was discussed and decided; Habermann was
engaged on a good, sufficient salary, which was to be increased every
five years; and the only condition which the Kammerrath insisted upon
was that he should occupy the place at once.
The new inspector agreed to this, and the day was set for his entering
on his duties, so that the Kammerrath before his departure could go
with him about the place and tell him what he wanted done; and Braesig
having concluded a brief sketch of the troubled life-career of the
fifteen years' old full-blooded Wallach, which he had cared for in his
business at the farm,--how he had "had the honor to know the old
carrion ever since it was born;" how the creature in its younger
years had been "such a colt as you read of in books," but afterward
"with shying and spavin and all manner of devilish tricks had so
disgraced himself that he was now punished by being harnessed to the
dung-cart,"--the two inspectors took their leave.
"Braesig," said Habermann, when they were outside, "a stone, has been
taken from my heart. Thank God, I shall be employed again! And that
brings me to other thoughts. Now for Gurlitz! Ah, if we may only be as
fortunate there!"
"Yes, Karl, you may well say fortunate; for--don't take it ill of
me--you don't understand the way of life and the fine etiquette of
noble society. How could you do such a thing! How could you go through
the door before the Herr Kammerrath?"
"Braesig, when he invited me I was his guest, and he was not yet my
master; now, I should not do it, and, rely upon it, he would not do it
either."
"No, Karl, so I think; but at the Pastor's leave the business to me;
there some finesse will be needed."
"Yes, Zachary, gladly. Were, it not for my poor little girl, I should
not have the courage to ask so great a favor of any man. If you will
undertake it for me, I shall consider it a real piece of friendship."
As they came toward the Gurlitz church, they knew by the singing that
the service was not yet over; and, as they went into the Pastor's
house, and into the living-room, they were met by a little, quick,
round woman, upwards of forty years of age. Everything about her was
round,--arms and hands and fingers, head and cheeks and lips; and the
eyes looked so round and bright out of her soft round face, as if the
eyelids had never been pressed down with trouble and sorrow, and such a
cheery life over flowed from her mien and motions, that one believed he
could almost see how the fresh, red blood throbbed through the warm
heart.
"Good-day, Herr Braesig, sit down! Sit down, also! Yes, that is right,
my Pastor is still in church; he would scold well if you had gone away.
Pray sit down, Herr--what shall I call you? Yes, I would gladly have
gone to church to-day, but just think, last Sunday the Pastor's pew was
broken in halves. Bless me, how every body crowded around, and we
couldn't say 'No.' And our old cabinetmaker Pruesshawer was going to
mend it, and he is sick with a fever."
The round little mouth rolled out the words as if they were round,
smooth, white billiard balls, which a playful child shoots here and
there over the green cloth.
Braesig now introduced Habermann as the brother of Frau Nuessler.
"You are her brother? Her brother Karl? Now sit down, sit down! How
glad my Pastor will be! When Frau Nuessler is here, we always talk about
you; something good you may be sure,--the Herr Inspector knows. Bless
you, Braesig, what are you doing with my hymn-book? Let me put the book
away! you don't want to read it, you are an old heathen. Those are
funeral-hymns, and what have you to do with funeral-hymns? You will
live forever! You are no better than the Wandering Jew! But, dear
heart! one must think sometimes about dying, and so, since our
church-pew is broken, and the old cabinet-maker has a fever, I have
been reading a couple of hymns 'On preparation for death.'" And with
that she flew round like quicksilver, and laid the books on one side,
and whisked off a little dust here and there, where none was visible,
and rubbed and polished about in the room, which was as neat as a
dressing-box. All at once she stood still, listened toward the kitchen
and cried, "Just so, I must go and look after the soup!" and was gone.
"Didn't I tell you, Karl?" said Braesig. "There's a temperament for you!
And what splendid health! Now leave me alone; I will manage it all,"
and he went out after the Frau Pastorin.
Habermann looked around him in the room. How neat and comfortable every
thing was, so homelike and so full of peace. There hung, above the
sofa, a beautiful head of Christ, and around and beneath it were the
portraits of the parents of the Herr Pastor and the Frau Pastorin, and
their relations, some in colors, some in crayon, some large, others
small; and the Lord Jesus had his hands raised in blessing, and the
Frau Pastorin had arranged under their shadow all her relations,
putting them the nearest, that they might have the best of the
blessing.
Her own picture, painted in early years, and that of her Pastor, she
had in humility hung by the window, a little further off; but the sun,
which looked in through the snow-white curtains, and gilded the
other portraits, touched these two pictures first. There was a small
book-case full of religious and secular books, a little mixed together,
but still making a fine appearance, for they were arranged more with
reference to their bindings than their contents. And if any one
supposed, because she talked Platt-Deutsch, that she had no
appreciation or enjoyment of High-German literature, he needed merely
to open a book, where a mark lay, and he would find that the marked
places had been read with heart and feeling,--that is to say, if he had
as much heart and feeling as the Frau Pastorin; and, had he opened the
cookbook, he would have seen that the Frau Pastorin was as good a
student as the Herr Pastor, for she had just like him her notes written
on the margin, and where nothing was written one might understand that
those were the Herr Pastor's favorite recipes,--"And by those," said
she, "I don't need to make any marks, for I know them by heart."
And here in this peaceful abode, in this pretty, comfortable nest,
shall Habermann, if God in mercy grant it, leave his child to pass her
early years. These hands of the Saviour shall be stretched out in
blessing over her, this blessed sun shall shine upon her, and the noble
thoughts, which great and good men have written in books for the world,
shall awaken her young soul out of childhood's dreams, and give it life
and joy.
He was getting very soft-hearted. But, as he still sat between hope and
fear, the Frau Pastorin came in at the door, her eyes red with weeping.
"Don't say a word, Herr Habermann, don't say a word! Braesig has told me
everything, and Braesig is an old heathen, but he is a good man, and a
true friend of yours,--and my Pastor thinks just as I do, that I know,
for we are always one,--and that dear little thing! God bless you, yes!
The old Nuesslers are a hard-hearted set," and she tapped the floor
briskly with her foot.
"The old woman," said Braesig, who was by this time close beside them,
"the old woman is a real horse-leech."
"Right, Braesig, she is that, but my Pastor shall talk the old people
into reason; not on account of the little girl, she shall come here, or
I don't know my old Pastor!"
While Habermann was expressing his heart-felt thanks, her Pastor came
in,--she always called him "her" Pastor, because he was truly hers,
body and soul, and her "Pastor," on account of his own dignity, and
because the title belonged to him from his office. He came bare-headed
across the church-yard and parsonage-yard, for these high soft-hats,
which make our good Protestant ministers look like Russian priests,
were not then in fashion, at least not in the country; and, instead of
the great ruff, as broad as the white china platter on Which the
daughter of Herodias presents the head of John-Baptist to her
step-father, he had a pair of little innocent bands, which his dear
wife Regina had, with all Christian reverence, stitched, stiffened,
pressed and tied around his neck with her own hands. She held correctly
that these little simple things were the distinctive ministerial
uniform, and not the little four-cornered cape which was worn over the
coat-collar. "For," said she, "my dear Frau Nuessler, our sexton wears
just such a little cape, but he dare not wear bands; and when I see my
Pastor, with the ornaments of his office, standing in the chancel, I
don't know, they seem to me, the two little things, as they rise
and fall with his words, now one, now the other, like a pair of
angel-wings, on which one might rise directly to Heaven,--only my
Pastor has his wings in front, and the angels have theirs behind."
No, he wasn't an angel, this good Pastor of hers, and he was the last
person to set himself up for one. But with all the sincerity that shone
from his face, and seemed to know no dissimulation, there was such a
friendly forbearance, such a quiet, kindly expression, that one must
hold him at the first glance for a brave man, and although his whole
life had been given up to self-denying labor, yet he could--naturally
after the Frau Pastorin had taken off his cape and bands--show in his
eyes his joyous heart, and utter innocent jests with his lips; and,
when he put off the ecclesiastic, he stood forth as a man who, in
worldly matters also, could give sensible counsel, and reach forth a
helping hand.
As he stepped into the room, he recognized Habermann immediately, and
went right up to him. "My dear friend, do I see you once more! How are
you? Good-day, Herr Inspector!" And as Habermann returned the greeting,
and Braesig began to tell the reason of their visit, the Frau Pastorin
sprang between them, and seized her Pastor by his ministerial gown, and
cried, "Not a word, Herr Habermann; Braesig, will you be so good? You
shall know it all from me," said she to her husband, "for, though the
story is a sad one,--yes, Herr Habermann, quite too sad,--yet there
will be a pleasure for you. Come, come!" and with that she drew him
into his study. "For I am the nearest to him," she called back from the
door, in apology.
After a while the Pastor came back with his wife into the room, and
went, with a determined step and resolved expression on his face, up to
Habermann. "Yes, dear Habermann, yes! We will do it, and, so far as in
us lies, do it gladly,"--and he pressed his hand--"but," he added, "we
have no experience in the care of children, yet we can learn. Isn't it
so, Regina, we can learn?" as if with this little joke he would help
Habermann over the deep emotion which struggled in his face and in his
whole being.
"Herr Pastor," he broke out, finally, "You have long ago done a great
deal for me, but this--" And the little Frau Pastorin reached after her
means of consolation and implement of all work, which she took in hand
at every surprise of joy or sorrow,--after her duster,--and dusted here
and there, and would have wiped away Habermann's tears with it, if he
had not turned aside, and she called out at the door after Frederica:
"Now, Rika, run quickly over to the weaver's wife, and ask her to lend
me her cradle,--she doesn't use it," she added, to Braesig.
And Braesig, as if it devolved on him to sustain the honor of the
Habermann family, said to her impressively: "Frau Pastorin, what are
you thinking of? The little girl is quite hearty!"
And the Frau Pastorin ran again to the door, and called back the
maiden. "Rika, Rika, not the cradle,--ask her to lend me a little crib,
and then go to the sexton's daughter, and see if she can come this
afternoon,--God bless me, to-day is Sunday! But if your ass has fallen
into a pit, and so forth,--yes, ask her whether she can help me stuff a
couple of little beds. For it is not heathenish, Braesig, it is a work
of necessity, and quite another thing from your Herr Count having his
wheat brought in Sunday afternoon. And, my dear Herr Habermann, the
little girl must come to us to-day, for Franz," said she to her
husband, "the old Nuesslers would not give the poor little thing even
her dinner if they could help it, and, Braesig, bread which is not
freely given----" here she was a little out of breath and Braesig went
on: "Yes, Frau Pastorin, one may grow fat on grudged bread, but the
devil take such fatness!"
"You old heathen, how can you swear so, in a Christian Pastor's house?"
cried the Frau Pastorin. "But the long and the short of the matter is,
the little girl must come here to-day."
"Yes, Frau Pastorin," said Habermann, only too happy, "I will bring her
to-day. My poor sister will be sorry, but it is better for her, and for
the peace of her family, and also for my child."
He went up to the two worthy people, and thanked them so warmly, from
the depths of his grateful heart; and when they had taken leave, and
were outside, he drew a long breath, and said to Braesig, "How gloomy
the world looked this morning, but now the sun shines in my heart
again! I have yet a disagreeable business to attend to; but it is a
lucky day, and that may go well also."
"What have you got to do now?" asked Braesig.
"I must go to Rahnstadt, to old Moses. I gave him, six months ago, my
note for six hundred dollars; I have not heard from him since my
bankruptcy, and I must try to make some arrangement with him."
"That you must, Karl; and I would do it at once, for old Moses isn't
the worst man in the world, by a long way. Now I will tell you what
shall be our order of battle for to-day: we will both go back to Rexow,
and eat our dinner; after dinner young Jochen must lend you his horses,
and you can take your little one to Gurlitz; go from there to the city,
and come back in the evening to me, at Warnitz, and stay over night;
and to-morrow you can go over to Pumpelhagen, since the Herr Kammerrath
depends on your speedy coming.
"Right," said Habermann, "it shall be so."
They arrived, the dinner was eaten, and Braesig asked of young
Jochen the loan of his wagon and horses. "Of course," cried Frau
Nuessler,--"Yes, of course," said Jochen, and went out himself
immediately, to order the horses harnessed.
"Karl," said the sister, "my dear brother, how glad, how heartily glad,
I should be, if---- But you know the reason; Braesig has told you. But,
dear heart, if one could only keep peace in the family! Don't believe
that Jochen thinks differently from me, only he hasn't the energy to
stand up for his rights. But I will look after your child as if she
were my own, though it will not be needful at the Parsonage."
The wagon drove up. "What the devil!" cried Braesig, "young Jochen, you
have got out your state-equipage, the old yellow coach!"
"Yes, Herr," said Christian, who sat up in front. "May we only get safe
home again with the old thing, for it is fearfully crazy in the box,
and the wheels clatter as if one were spinning flax."
"Christian," said Braesig, "you must first drive a little way through
the village pond, and then through the Gurlitz brook; and then, before
you get to Rahnstadt, though the frog-pond. That will tighten the
wheels."
"Eh!" said Christian; "one might as well go a sea-voyage!"
As Habermann had taken leave, and put his little girl in the wagon,
young Jochen pressed out through the company in such haste that all
made way for him, and his wife cried out, "What is the matter now?"
"There," said he and placed in the hand of the little Louise a pound of
Fleigen Markur, for he smoked no other tobacco; but it was only in
outward appearance, for, as Habermann looked closer, he found a great
piece of white bread, which young Jochen had merely wrapped up in
tobacco-paper, because he had nothing else at hand.
The equipage started. Christian took the pond and the brook on his way,
as Braesig had recommended; the little one was given up at Gurlitz, and
I will not try to describe how the pretty little dear was handed from
one to the other, with kisses and petting, and seemed in her
uncomprehending innocence to find herself at home with the good people.
Habermann drove on Rahnstadt, to see Moses.
Moses was a man of about fifty. He had large, wise-looking eyes, under
strong, black eyebrows, although his head was nearly white; heavy
eyelids and dark lashes gave him an aspect of mildness; he was of
middle size and of comfortable fulness; his left shoulder was a little
higher than his right, and that was in consequence of his grip. When he
got up from his stool, he stuck his left hand in his left coat pocket,
and took hold of his breeches on the left side, which was always
slipping down; for he wore but one suspender, and that was on the right
side. "What's the use?" said he to his Bluemchen, when she would
persuade him to wear a second suspender. "When I was young and poor and
had no money, I managed my business with one suspender, and courted my
Bluemchen with one suspender; and now that I am old and rich, and have
money, and have Bluemchen, why do I need two suspenders?" And then he
would pat his Bluemchen, give a grip at the left coat-pocket, and go
back to his business.
As Habermann entered he sprang up. "O heavens! it is Habermann. Haven't
I always told you," turning to his son, "Habermann is good, Habermann
is an honest man?"
"Yes, Moses," said Habermann, "honest truly,--but----"
"Stand up, David, give the seat to Herr Habermann; sit here by me. Herr
Habermann has something to say to me, and I have something to say to
Herr Habermann. Do you see?" he added to his son, "David, what did you
say? 'I should declare myself before the Prussian Justice.' What did I
say? 'I will not declare myself before the Prussian Justice; Herr
Habermann is an honorable man.' I declared myself once, it was in a
business with a Prussian candidate. I had reminded the fellow of his
debt, and he wrote me a letter, saying I should read a verse out of the
Christian hymn-book,--David, what was it?"
"It was an infamous verse," said David.
"'Moses cannot accuse me.
My conscience knows no fears,
For He who has pronounced me free
Will pay all my arrears.'"
"Yes," cried Moses, "that was what he said. And when I showed the
letter, the Prussian Justice laughed, and when I showed my note, he
shrugged his shoulders and laughed again. 'Ha, Ha! I said, you mean the
paper is good, but the fellow is good for nothing.' Then they said I
had the right on my side. I could have him locked up, but it would cost
something. 'Do you take me for a fool? should I pay the fees and costs
and summons, and the whole lawsuit, merely to give that swine his
fodder? Let him run!' said I. No, Herr Habermann is better for me than
the Prussian Justice."
"Yes, that is all very good, Moses," said Habermann, anxiously, "but I
can't pay you, at least not at present."
"No?" said Moses, and looked at him in a questioning way. "You must
have kept something over?"
"Not a red shilling," said the farmer with emotion.
"Thou just Heaven!" cried Moses, "not a red shilling!" and he sprang up
and began ordering his son about. "David, what are you standing there
for? What are you looking at? Why are you listening? Go and bring my
book!" With that he began to walk restlessly up and down the room.
"Moses," said Habermann, "only give me time, and you shall have
principal and interest to the last farthing."
Moses stood still, and listened with deep attention. "Habermann,"
said he at last, in Platt-Deutsch,--for these old-fashioned Jews,
when anything goes to the heart, talk Platt-Deutsch, just like
Christians,--"Habermann, you are an honorable man." And as David came
back with the book, the old man said, "David, what do we want of the
book? Take the book away. Now, what is it?" turning to Habermann. "I
began with nothing, you also began with nothing, I had my business, you
had yours, I had good luck, you had bad luck. I was industrious, you
were industrious too, and you understood your business. What we can't
do to-day may be done to-morrow; to-morrow you may again have a
situation, and then you can pay me, for you are an honest man."
"A situation?" said Habermann, with a much lighter heart, "I have that
already, and a good one, too."
"Where?" asked Moses.
"With the Kammerrath, at Pumpelhagen."
"Good, Habermann, good! He is a good man. Though he has had some
experience of the hard times, he is yet a good man; he does no business
with me, but he is a good man, for all that. Bluemchen!" he cried at the
door, "Herr Habermann is here. Bring in two cups of coffee!" and as
Habermann would have declined the coffee, he added, "Allow me, Herr
Habermann, allow me! When I was young, and went about the country with
my pack, and it was cold weather, your mother has often given me a hot
cup of coffee; when you were inspector you have given me many a ride
for nothing. No, we are all human beings. Drink! Herr Habermann,
drink!"
So this business also came out right, and as Habermann went back to
Braesig that evening his heart was lighter, much lighter; and, as he
that evening in bed thought over the events of the day, the thought
came to him whether a beloved voice had not prayed for him, up above,
and whether a beloved hand had not smoothed out the tangled skein of
his future, that it might run henceforth with a clear thread.
The next morning he reported himself at Pumpelhagen; and when the
Kammerrath and his little son rode away, two days after, he found
himself already acquainted with his new duties, and in full activity.
And so he remained in quiet content for many years. Grief had
withdrawn, and the joy he had was of the kind that a man does not enjoy
alone, which he must share with his fellow-men.