The winter passed away without any special incidents. Habermann was
accustomed to a uniform life, and desired no other, for himself; but
the young people were sometimes wearied by it, and by their seclusion,
especially Franz von Rambow. Fritz Triddelsitz had his aunt, the Frau
Pastorin, close by, and a little farther off, his dear mother at
Rahnstadt and, nearer than either, Marie Moeller the house-keeper, who
often comforted him with a bit of roast goose, or a morsel of sausage,
so that they soon came into friendly relations. Sometimes they were
together like mother and child, for Marie was seven years older than
Fritz,--she was four and twenty; sometimes they seemed more like
lovers, for four and twenty is no great age, after all; and Fritz
instead of learning his Latin at school, had fed upon romances, and had
been a regular customer at the circulating library, so that he was
quite well informed about such matters, and as his father had advised
him to study human nature, and Habermann often repeated the advice, he
thought it a good opportunity to improve his knowledge of love-affairs;
but don't be alarmed, there is nothing serious coming--nothing more
tender than roast goose and sausage.
Habermann had no occasion to trouble himself about Fritz; it was only
for Franz he felt anxious. He had taken him already once to the
parsonage, and when Christmas time came, they were invited there to
spend Christmas eve. The young Herr accepted,--Fritz had gone home to
Rahnstadt for the holidays--and as they drove up in the sleigh--for
it was fine sleighing--to the front door, which opened into the
living-room, there stood the little, plump Frau Pastorin, motioning
with both hand and foot:--
"No, Habermann, no! you mustn't come in here! Herr von Rambow, if you
will have the kindness, just go round to my Pastor's study."
And, as they entered the study, Louise sprang towards her father, and
kissed him, and whispered in his ear what presents she had made, and
how she had arranged them, and who was to knock the Yule raps, and had
scarcely time to give Herr von Rambow a hasty courtesy. But the Pastor
made up for her neglect; he shook the young man's hand, and said that
he was heartily glad that he had come to celebrate this joyous feast
with them. "But," he added, "we must be under subjection; my Regina
takes the rule to-day, and her head is never clearer and brighter than
on Christmas eve."
He was right in that; for every few moments her head was thrust in at
the door: "Wait just a minute longer! Sit perfectly still! The bell
will ring directly." And once she whisked through the room, with a blue
package peeping from under her apron, and then in the next room they
heard her merry laugh.
At last, at last, the bell rung, and the door flew open, and there
stood the Christmas tree, in the centre of the room, on the round
table, and under the tree were as many dishes full of apples and nuts
and ginger-bread as there were members of the family, and two more, for
Habermann and the young gentleman. The Frau Pastorin fluttered about
the tree, and then taking Habermann and Herr von Rambow by the hand,
she led them up to the table. "This is your dish, and this is yours,
and Louise and my Pastor have already found theirs!" then turning
around, she cried, "Now all come in!" for the Pastor's man, George, and
the two maids, Rika and Duerten, were all standing at the door, waiting
for their Christmas boxes,--"now all come in! Where the bright dollars
are sticking in the apples, those are your dishes, and the red cloth
lying here is for the two maids, and this red vest is for George. And
Louise--yes, yes, yes!" She could go no further, for Louise had grasped
her about the neck, and was kissing the words from her lips, and in her
hand she held a bright cherry merino dress: "This is from you, mother!"
Here it must be confessed, the Frau Pastorin so far forgot herself as
to equivocate, not in words, to be sure, but by shaking her head, and
nodding towards her Pastor, and Louise sprang upon him: "Then it is
you!"
But he also shook his head, and professed to know nothing about it, and
Louise grasped her own father by the arm, and cried: "No, no! It is
from you!"
The good old inspector was much affected at receiving from his child
the thanks which were due to others; he stroked her soft hair, and his
eyes grew moist, as he took her hand and led her back to the Frau
Pastorin, saying, "No, darling, no! Your thanks belong here."
But the Frau Pastorin had no time now to receive thanks. She was
busy with her Pastor, whom she had drawn aside to see how his new
dressing-gown fitted. It was fortunate that it did not happen to be a
pair of pantaloons, for in the joy and excitement of this evening, the
impropriety would never have occurred to her mind. The gown fitted
well, and looked finely, and she drew back a couple of steps and looked
at her Pastor, like a child when it has set up a new doll in the
sofa-corner, and as she turned round she saw a package lying on her
dish, which her Pastor had secretly placed there. Hastily she untied
the string, and took off the wrappings, chattering all the while. What
could it be? How strangely it felt! Somebody was surely playing a joke
on her,--and at last, there was a beautiful black silk dress. Now the
joy was at its height. Habermann had found a new pipe on his plate, and
held it in his mouth, puffing contentedly, although it was quite cold,
the Pastor lay back in the sofa-corner, like the new doll, and the Frau
Pastorin and Louise walked up and down the room holding up the stuff
for their new dresses, and looking down at them, as if the dresses were
already finished.
And Franz! Franz sat a little aside, and a slight sadness stole over
him, at the thought of the joys he had missed since his childhood. He
rested his head on his hand, and the Christmas eves of his life passed
before him; kind friends and relatives brought him their greetings, but
the two faces which hung in his room, under the wreath of immortelles,
were missing. He felt that he did not belong here, but he would not
disturb their joy; he recalled his thoughts, and as he raised his head
he looked into a pair of great, beautiful, childish eyes, full of
thought and compassion, as if they had read his heart.
"Yule rap!" cried Rika's loud voice, and a package flew in at the door,
"For the Frau Pastorin." It was a nice roller, and nobody knew where it
came from. "Yule rap!" again; and this time it was a new stuffed
cushion for the Pastor's arm-chair; but nobody had made it. Oh, what
fibs they told that evening at the parsonage! "Yule rap!" There was a
letter for the Frau Pastorin, and in it a ticket with a number,
referring to another ticket up-stairs, and when she had got this, it
referred her to another down in the cellar, and that to another, and
another,--and if the Frau Pastorin wanted the pretty embroidered collar
designed for her, she must chase it all over the house, to find it, at
last, close by, in her husband's boot-leg. Another "Yule rap!" All,
that was a great package! "To the Herr Pastor," it was addressed, but
when the first wrapper was taken off, it was for the Frau Pastorin, and
then for George, and then for Rika, and finally for Louise, and when
the last paper had been taken off, there was a little work-table,
exactly such a work-table as her father had given years ago to her dead
mother. He knew where it came from, no one else.
Then another "Yule rap!" Books for Louise. "Yule rap!" again--an
embroidered foot-cover for Habermann. All this time Rika had not been
visible. Now she came in and gathered up the wrapping paper and string.
Then the door opened once more, a clear bell-like voice cried "Yule
rap!" and, as the package was examined, it was found to be "For the
Honourable Herr Franz von Rambow," and while they were looking, a
little maiden crept softly in on tip-toe, a great joy beaming in her
face.
Franz was taken by surprise, but when he opened his package, he
found a letter from his youngest cousin Fidelia, and the three
unmarried daughters of the Kammerrath had sent him their Christmas
gifts--Albertine a smoking-cushion, and he never smoked on a
sofa,--Bertha a saddle-cover, and as yet he had no horse,--and Fidelia
a cigar-case, and in fact he never smoked at all. But what of that?
Whether one can use them or not, it is all one; not the gift, but the
giver, and the good-will is the important thing at Christmas time.
Franz no longer felt so lonely; and as he saw the pleasure in Louise's
face, when she returned, he laughed and joked with her about his
presents, and, whether she liked it or not, she must receive his
thanks, because he had recognized her voice.
Rika came in again, saying, "Frau Pastorin, they are all here."
"So? Then we will go out."
"No, dear Regina," said the Pastor, "let them come in."
"Oh, Pastor, they will bring in so much snow on their feet!"
"Never mind! Rika will get up early to-morrow morning, and clean it all
up. Eh, Rika?"
To be sure, Rika would do it gladly; so the door was opened, and in
came head after head, flaxen heads and dark heads, all the little
people in the village, and they stood there rubbing their noses, and
opening their eyes wider and wider, and stared at the apples and
ginger-nuts, with their mouths also wide open, as if to invite the
dainties to walk in.
"So!" said Frau Pastorin, "now let the godchildren come first.
Habermann," added she, "we are next to their parents, my Pastor and I,
in fact we are nearest to our godchildren." And more than half of the
company pressed forward, for the Pastor and his wife had stood
godparents to at least half the village children. One boy, who wanted
to deceive, pushed forward with the others, that was Jochen Ruhrdanz,
who had said last year that the godchildren got more than the others;
but Stina Wasmuths noticed him, and pushed him back, saying, "You are
not a godchild," so that his impudent attempt was unsuccessful.
Then the Herr Pastor came forward, with a pile of books under his arm,
and all the godchildren, who had during the winter come to him for
instruction, received every one a hymn-book, and the others received
writing-books and slates and primers and catechisms, according as they
needed them, and all the children said, "Thank you, godfather!" but
those who had hymn-books said, "Thank you very much, Herr Pastor." That
was an old custom.
Then came the Frau Pastorin. "So! I will take the nuts; Louise, you
take the ginger-nuts, and, Herr von Rambow, will you take the
apple-basket? And now, each in his turn! Come, children, put yourselves
in rows, and hold your dishes ready."
It was not a very quiet proceeding, there was some pushing and shoving,
for each one wished to be in the front row, and each held out whatever
he had brought, to receive his Christmas gift. The little girls had
their aprons, but the boys had brought anything they could lay hands
on; one had a platter, another a peck-measure, a third his father's
hat, and one a great corn-sack, which he evidently expected to get
almost if not quite full. Now began the dividing.
"There, there, there--hold!" said the Frau Pastorin, as she came to a
mischievous rogue of a boy. "Herr von Rambow, that boy is to have no
apples, because he helped himself from the garden, last summer."
"Oh, Frau Pastorin----"
"Boy, didn't I see you myself, up in the great apple-tree by the wall,
knocking off the apples with a stick?"
"But, ah, Frau Pastorin----"
"Not a word! Boys who steal apples can't expect to have any at
Christmas." So she went on, but stopped again when she came to Jochen
Ruhrdanz. "Didn't I see you, last week, fighting with Christian
Rusborn, before the parsonage, so that my Rika had to go out and
separate you?"
"Yes, Frau Pastorin, but he said----"
"Hush! Louise, he gets no ginger-nuts."
"Yes, Frau Pastorin, but we made it all up again."
"Ah! Then you may give him some, Louise."
So they went through the rows, and then the children went off with
their Christmas boxes, saying only, "Good evening!" for thanks were not
the custom, at this stage of the proceedings.
When they were gone, quite a different set of people came coughing
and limping in at the door; these were the old spinning-women, and
broom-tyers, and wooden-shoemakers, out of the village, and also some,
who were no longer capable of any work. With these the Pastor spoke a
few friendly, Christian words, and the Frau Pastorin gave each one a
great loaf of plain, wholesome cake, and they went away, wishing God's
blessing upon the Pastor and his wife.
About nine o'clock the Pastor's George brought Habermann's sleigh to
the door, and the two guests said "Good night!" and, as Habermann came
out, he went up silently to the horses, and took off their bells, for
up in the church-tower other bells were ringing which rung for the
whole world.
They drove slowly through the village. Here and there burned a
Christmas candle in the cottages of the poor laborers, and up in the
heavens God had lighted up his great Christmas tree with a thousand
shining lamps, and the world lay stretched out beneath like a Christmas
table, and winter had spread it with a cloth of whitest snow, that
spring, summer and autumn might cover with Christmas gifts.
As they came out of the village, Franz noticed the lighted windows of
Pomuchelskopp's house; "They are keeping Christmas there, too," said
he. They gave presents; but it was not a real Christmas after all.
Pomuchelskopp had bought nothing at Rahnstadt; everything came from
Rostock. "Always noble!" said he. He told also how much Malchen and
Salchen's clothes had cost, and when Malchen heard that Salchen's dress
was two dollars dearer than her's, she felt badly, and Salchen thought
herself quite superior to her sister. And Philipping and Nanting began
to quarrel about a sugar doll, and when Pomuchelskopp said that his
favorite, Philipping, should have it, Nanting was angry, and threw a
toy-box at Philipping, which unfortunately hit the great looking-glass,
and broke it into a thousand pieces. Then their mother took the
government into her hands, and got the strap out of the cupboard, and
punished Nanting first for his misdeeds, and then Philipping, and
afterwards the other boys for company. And not once in the whole
evening did she say "Poeking" to her husband; not even when he brought
out the new winter hat with great feathers, that he had bought for her;
she said only, "Kopp, do you want to make me look like a scarecrow?"
As Franz went to bed that night, he said to himself that he had never
spent so pleasant a Christmas eve, and when he asked himself the
reason, the joyous face of Louise Habermann appeared before his mind's
eye, and he said, "Yes, yes, such a joyous child belongs properly to
Christmas time!"
Between Christmas and New Year's, a very unusual event occurred. Jochen
Nuessler's blue cloak with seven capes drove over to Pumpelhagen in the
"phantom," and when Habermann went out there sat Jochen himself inside
the coat. He could not get out,--Oh, no!--he had been from home an hour
and a half already; but he had been at the parsonage, and they were all
coming to spend St. Sylvester's eve, and Braesig also, and he wanted his
brother-in-law to come, and bring the two young people with him, and he
would do what he could to entertain them with a big bowl of punch.
Having uttered this long speech, he stopped abruptly, and when
Habermann had accepted the invitation, and Christian had turned the
horses' heads, a murmur came out of the seven capes, which sounded
like, "Good-bye, brother-in-law!" but Christian looked back and said,
"You must all come to coffee, Herr Inspector! The Frau told me so
expressly."
Franz forwarded the invitation to Fritz, who was still at Rahnstadt,
and wrote him that, as his vacation would be over, he could come to
Rexow the last day of the year, and go home with them to Pumpelhagen.
As Habermann and Franz drove up to the Rexow farm house, at the
appointed time,--it was a wet day,--there stood Jochen in the door, in
his new black dress-coat and trousers, a Christmas present from his
wife, and the red smoking-cap which Mining had given him, looking for
all the world like a stuffed bullfinch.
"Look alive, Jochen," called Braesig from within, "and do the
'honneurs,' that Karl's young nobleman may have some opinion of your
manners."
After Jochen had received them, and the greetings with the family and
the Pastor and his wife were over, Frau Nuessler began to talk to her
brother about her domestic affairs, the Pastor engaged in conversation
with the young Herr von Rambow, the Frau Pastorin asked the little
girls about their Christmas presents. Jochen sat silently in his old
corner by the stove, and Braesig in his great seal-skin boots which came
nearly up to his waist, went from one to another, as if it were
Christmas eve over again, and he were playing St. Nicholas, to frighten
the children.
The sun looked in at the window now and then, the room was warm and
comfortable, the coffee-steam rose in little clouds and mingled with
the smoke-wreaths from the Pastor's pipe, till it seemed like a summer
day, with light, feathery clouds floating in the sunshine. Only, near
the stove, it looked as if a thunder-shower was coming up, for there
sat Jochen, smoking as if for a wager. His wife had taken away the
"Fleigen Markur" from his tobacco-pouch, and filled it for the occasion
with "Fine old mild," and he could not get the strength of the "Markur"
from this more delicate quality of tobacco, without using a double
portion.
But a cloud was coming up outside, not exactly in the heavens, nor yet
from the earth beneath,--which would disturb the repose of this quiet
room.
One of Frau Nuessler's maids came in to say that there was a man outside
with a cart, who had brought a travelling trunk from the apothecary at
Rahnstadt, and where should it be put?
"God bless me!" cried the Frau Pastorin, "that is Fritz's trunk. You
will see, Pastor, my brother-in-law is so inconsiderate, he has let the
boy come on horseback again. Nobody ought to ride that wild horse,
Habermann."
"Oh, don't be troubled, Frau Pastorin," said Habermann, laughing a
little, "the horse is not so bad----"
"Ah, Habermann, but I saw him before, when he first came to
Pumpelhagen; the creature would not stir a step."
"Frau Pastorin," said Braesig, "it is not so bad if a beast is balky as
when the rascal takes to running; then the Latin riders used to fall
off."
But the little Frau Pastorin could not rest; she opened the window, and
asked the man who had driven the cart whether Fritz was riding, and was
the horse very vicious?
"Like a lamb," was the reply. "If he does nothing to the horse, the
horse will do nothing to him. He will be here directly."
That was comforting, so the Frau Pastorin seated herself again on the
sofa, saying, with a sigh,--
"My poor sister! I tremble for her, whenever I set eyes on the boy. He
plays too many stupid jokes."
"He will be up to something of the sort, now?" said Braesig.
Braesig was right. In the time between Christmas and New Year's Fritz
had accomplished a great deal of folly, all the time in his wonderful
inspector suit; for, though the weather had been cold and disagreeable,
he had worn the green hunting-jacket, white leather breeches, and
yellow top-boots, not merely in the day-time, but occasionally through
the night. Once, at least, after he had come home late from a lively
company of young farmers, the maid-servant found him next morning lying
in bed in his boots and spurs. He had met an old friend that evening,
Gust Prebberow by name, who went round half the year in yellow
top-boots, and the pleasure of seeing him, together with the lively,
agricultural conversation, had been a little too much for Fritz. Gust
Prebberow had given him all sorts of useful advice, how to manage "the
old man," as he called Habermann, and to pull the wool over his eyes,
and had told incidents from his own experience in the management of
farm-boys; and, after discussing these branches of agriculture, they
came to the subject of horses. Fritz related his adventures with the
old chestnut, who was naturally a very gifted horse, and good-natured,
for the most part, but like his own father the apothecary, old Chestnut
had always been suspicious of him, and on the look-out for mischief. He
had evidently made up his mind that Fritz knew nothing about the
management of horses, although Fritz had made repeated efforts to bring
him to a better way of thinking. His greatest fault was that he
positively would not stir a step farther than he pleased, neither kicks
nor kindness, whipping nor spurring, could alter this determination
when once he had taken it into his stupid head.
"And do you allow that?" said Gust Prebberow. "Now, brother, I will
tell you what to do. See, next time you mount him, take a good sized
earthen pot full of water, and ride gently along just as usual, till
you come to the place where he balks, and then give it to him with the
spurs in the ribs, and break the pot over his head,--all at once!--so
that the fragments of the pot will clatter down, and the water will run
into his eyes."
Fritz paid close attention to this advice, and when he started to-day
in his smart inspector suit, he took the bridle in his left hand, the
riding-whip under his left arm, and in his right hand a great jar full
of water. He could not ride fast, without spilling the water, and old
Chestnut had no desire to run away, so they jogged along very peaceably
until they reached Rexow farm.
Here Fritz wished to ride up to the house in a brisk trot, so he drove
the spurs into old Chestnut's ribs, but Chestnut, having a bad
disposition and still bearing Fritz malice, on account of his adventure
in the Pastor's mud-puddle, all of a sudden stood still. Now was the
time. A stroke of the whip behind, spurs in his ribs, and crash! the
pot between his ears. "Uff!" grunted Chestnut, shaking his head, in
token that he would not stir a step, but the blow must have stunned him
a little, for he lay down directly. Fritz went too, of course, and
though he had sense enough to fall clear of the horse, he could not
prevent himself from lying at his side.
The company in Frau Nuessler's parlor had witnessed the scene, and at
first the little Frau Pastorin had lamented her poor sister's
misfortune, but as she observed old Chestnut's quiet behaviour, and saw
Fritz safely landed upon the soft and somewhat cold "bed of honor,"
which the rain and dew of heaven and Jochen Nuessler's dung-heap had
prepared for him, she was compelled to join in the general laughter,
and said to her Pastor, "It is good enough for him!"
"Yes," said Braesig, "and if he takes cold, it won't hurt him. What
business has he to behave so with that old creature!"
Fritz now approached, looking on one side like a plough-boy, black and
muddy, on the other still smart and shining.
"You are a dainty sight, my son," cried the Frau Pastorin, from the
open window. "Don't come in here like that! Fortunately, your trunk has
arrived, and you can change your clothes."
He followed her advice, and entered the room, before long, in his most
distinguished apparel, a blue dress-coat and long black trousers, like
a young proprietor, but in great vexation, which Braesig's jokes and his
aunt's observations did not tend to diminish. Franz, on the contrary,
was in the most cheerful temper. He joked to his heart's content with
the three little girls, and looked at their Christmas gifts, laughing
himself half dead as the little twins finally dragged forward a great
foot-sack, which Uncle Braesig had given them, "that the little rogues
might keep their toes warm, and not get the cursed Podagra." Franz had
never in his life enjoyed opportunities of intercourse with little
girls younger than himself, and this confidential chatter and contented
mirthfulness, making merry over things which in his eyes seemed nothing
at all, made such an impression upon him, that when they sat down to
supper, he kept among the little folks, decidedly refusing the pressing
invitations of Frau Nuessler, who wished him, as a nobleman, to take a
higher place.
That was a joyous evening meal; talk went briskly back and forth, every
one taking his share except Fritz and Jochen. Fritz could not get over
his annoyance, and was vexed that he could not enjoy himself as Franz
was doing. Jochen said nothing to be sure, but he laughed continually;
if Braesig merely opened his mouth, Jochen stretched his from ear to
ear, and when the punch was brought in, and Lining, as the most
judicious of the little ones, undertook the task of serving it out, he
found a voice, and endeavored to discharge his duties as host, saying
now and then very quietly, "Lining, help Braesig!"
The punch helped Fritz, also, to the use of his tongue. He was still in
ill-humor, especially at Franz's undignified behavior. The little girls
had hitherto seemed to him very small fry, but if one talked to them at
all, one should employ a higher style of conversation. Accordingly he
took up the _role_ which he had played at the Rahnstadt ball, when he
had danced with the burgomeister's daughter, aged twenty-seven, and
addressed Louise as "Fraeulein Habermann." The child looked at him in
astonishment, and as he again uttered his "Fraeulein," she laughed
innocently in his face: "I am no Fraeulein, I am only Louise
Habermann,"--and Franz could not help laughing also.
That was annoying for Fritz, but he knew what was proper, and how one
should converse with ladies; he refused to be snubbed, and went on
relating his experiences at the ball, what he said to the
burgomeister's daughter, and what she had said to him, "fraeulein" ing
also the little twins, right and left. And as this caused a great
tittering and giggling among the little folks, he naturally talked
louder and louder, in order to be heard, till at last the whole company
were looking at him in silence. Jochen, who sat next him, had turned
round and stared at him, as if to see how it were possible that one
human being could talk so much. Braesig looked over Jochen's shoulder
with an uncommonly happy face, rejoicing at his own knowledge of human
nature, and nodding now and then to Habermann, as if to say, "You see,
Karl, didn't I say so? A good-for-nothing puppy!"
Habermann, annoyed, looked down at his plate, Frau Nuessler was in great
perplexity to know what she ought to do as hostess, in such an
emergency, the Pastor gently shook his head back and forth; but the
most excited of all was the little Frau Pastorin. She bent down her
head till the cap-strings rustled under her chin, and moved uneasily on
her chair, as if the place were too hot for her, and as Fritz finally
attempted to give a visible illustration of the schottische, how the
gentleman embraced the lady, she could no longer contain herself. She
sprang up and cried, "All keep still! As his aunt, I am the nearest to
him! Fritz, come here directly!" And as he slowly rose, and very coolly
and politely walked round to her, she took hold of his coat and pulled
him along: "My dearest boy, come out here a moment!" With that, she
drew him out of the door. The company inside heard fragments of a short
sermon, which was interrupted by no reply, and then the door opened and
the Frau Pastorin led Fritz back again, and, pointing to his place,
said, "Now sit down quietly, and behave like a reasonable being."
Fritz followed her advice, that is to say the first part of it; the
second was not so easy, and ought not to have been expected. After
fashionable talk, reasonable talk seemed to him very tame, and why
should he spoil a good beginning by a bad ending?
As Franz and the little girls gradually resumed their lively chatter,
and the older people travelled on in the country road of reasonable
talk, with a jolt now and then, when Braesig drove against a stone,
Fritz sat and grumbled to himself, feeding his anger with punch, which
served as oil to the flame, and inwardly called Franz "a crafty
rascal," and the little girls, "foolish children," who understood
nothing of polite conversation.
In spite of this, and of the contempt which he felt for such childish
intercourse, his anger was mingled with a little jealousy at not being
himself "cock of the walk," and as he perceived that Franz seemed most
taken with Louise Habermann, he vowed secretly that _that_ should come
to an end; he himself, Fritz Triddelsitz, would see what he could do,
provided, that is, that his aunt would keep out of the way.
By this time it was growing late, but no one thought how late it was,
until suddenly a strange figure appeared in the room, wrapped from
top to toe in all sorts of warm garments, and he blew a horn, which
was fearful to hear, and then began to sing, which was more fearful
still. It was Gust Stoewsand, who was not more than half-witted,
and, because he was fit for nothing else, Jochen Nuessler had made him
night-watchman. And the boys and girls looked in at the door, to see
how Just would manage his business, and they laughed, and pushed and
pulled one another back and forth. Then congratulations began, and all
wished each other "Happy New Year!" and after all was quiet again, the
Herr Pastor made a little speech, which began quite playfully but ended
seriously, how with every year one came a step nearer to the grave, and
one must comfort oneself by this, that with every year new knots were
tied, and friendship and love bound more closely together. As he
finished his good words, he looked around the circle; the little Frau
Pastorin had slipped her arm in his, Jochen stood by his wife,
Habermann and Braesig held each other by the hand, the two little
twin-apples had their arms around each other, and Franz stood by Louise
Habermann. Fritz was nowhere to be seen, he had gone off in his
vexation.
So ended the year 1839.