Young Jochen sat in his chimney-corner smoking. Young Bauschan lay
under his chair, but with his head far enough out to look at young
Jochen. Young Jochen looked at him, but said nothing, and Bauschan said
nothing.
It was very quiet and peaceful, in the Rexow house, on this December
afternoon; there was only one thing which rattled and creaked, that was
Frau Nuessler's arm-chair, in which she sat by the window; and every
time that she took up a stitch, it made a note of it; for which it
should not be blamed, for she squeezed it without mercy, since she had
become, with time, what one calls a stout woman. But, to-day, the old
chair creaked more than usual, for Frau Nuessler had been knitting, in
deep thought, and her thoughts became more and more earnest, and
oppressed her soul, and the chair and its creaking became louder and
louder. "Dear heart!" said she, laying her knitting in her lap, "why
must it be so, in this world, that one's misfortune should be another's
happiness! Jochen, do you know what I have just thought of?"
"No," said young Jochen, and looked at Bauschan; Bauschan didn't know,
either.
"Jochen, what would you think, if Gottlieb should offer himself for the
Gurlitz parish? Gottlieb is but a farthing candle, compared with our
old Herr Pastor; but somebody must get the parish, why not he as well
as another?"
Jochen said nothing.
"If Pomuchelskopp is against him, and our people and the Warnitzers in
his favor, it will depend merely on the Pumpelhagen Herr. What do you
say, Jochen?"
"Yes," said Jochen, "it is all as true as leather;" and, because the
matter interested him uncommonly, he spoke further, and said, "what
shall we do about it?"
"Ah," said Frau Nuessler, "there is no use in talking to you. I wish
Braesig were only here, he could give us advice," and she resumed her
knitting.
"Well," she exclaimed, half an hour later, "speak of the wolf, and he
is not far off; there comes Braesig, driving up the yard. And who has he
with him? Rudolph,--now just think of it, Rudolph! Why should Rudolph
come to-day? Jochen, now do me a single favor,--the old fellow is doing
so nicely,--don't go and distress him with your foolish chatter!" With
that she ran to the door, to receive her guests.
But she had delayed too long over her preface, for, as she came out,
Mining lay in Rudolph's arms.
"Preserve us!" cried Frau Nuessler, "softly, Mining!" and she led
Rudolph into the living-room.
"Well," said Jochen, "Braesig, sit down a little! Rudolph, sit down,
too!"
But that was not so easily done. Rudolph had too much to arrange with
Mining and Lining, to be in haste to sit down, and Braesig's head was
going round like clock-work, and he trotted up and down the room, as if
his legs were the pendulums, to keep the machinery running.
"Young Jochen," said he, "have you heard the news? They haven't caught
him."
"Whom," asked Jochen.
"Good gracious, Jochen," said Frau Nuessler, "let Braesig tell. You are
always interrupting people so; let him speak! Braesig, whom haven't they
caught?"
"Regel," said Braesig; "they tracked him to Wismar, but there they found
themselves too late, since he had gone off a week before, on a Swedish
oakum ship, and is up in the Baltic sea."
"What a trouble this is for my brother Karl!" sighed Frau Nuessler.
"Frau Nuessler, you are right there; Karl is hardly to be recognized,
for he has completely insulated himself, and is surrounded with gloomy
thoughts. The business troubles him dreadfully, not on his own
account,--no! only on his young Herr's account, for you shall see, the
young man must, sooner or later, declare himself insolvent."
"That would kill Karl!" cried Frau Nuessler.
"How can you help it?" said Braesig. "The young nobleman is ruining
himself with his eyes open; he is beginning now the higher style of
horse-breeding. For, as I learned from old Prebberow, he has become
intimate with Lichtwark, and has bought an old thorough-bred horse,
which has got spavin, and swelled sinews, and in short, the whole
band in his legs, and he has bought a thorough-bred mare, and he is
going to buy Triddelsitz's old, deaf granny, and establish a complete
horse-hospital. He has got the little mule too, and I am glad of that,
for it is the only sensible creature in the whole company."
"Well, never mind him, Braesig, he must run his risk," said Frau
Nuessler; "but Jochen and I were just talking about the young
Herr--Mining, you can take Rudolph out a little while! And Lining, you
can go with them!"--and when they were gone she said, "Braesig, it is
about the Gurlitz living. If Gottlieb could only get it!"
"Frau Nuessler," said Braesig, bringing his pendulums to a stop, and
standing before Frau Nuessler, as if the clock had struck, "what you
have said is an idea, and nobody in the world is so quick at conceiving
ideas as the women folks. Where did you get this idea?"
"Entirely by myself," said Frau Nuessler, "for Jochen does not agree
with me, as he used to; he is always contradicting."
"Jochen, keep perfectly quiet!" said Braesig. "You are wrong, for this
opinion of your dear wife is a reasonable one. I will answer for
Warnitz; the people will choose my candidate, even if the gracious
count and countess should oppose; you for Rexow, young Jochen;
Pomuchelskopp won't do it, out of spite; but no matter, it depends on
Pumpelhagen. Who shall talk to the young nobleman about it? Habermann?
He stands on his apropos with him, just at present. I? Worse, if
anything, for he has insulted me. Young Jochen himself? I wouldn't
trust young Jochen, he has got into the way of talking too much lately.
Gottlieb? A good fellow, but a sheep's-head. Then who? Rudolph! An
infernal scoundrel, as Hilgendorf has just written me. Rudolph must go,
and you, Frau Nuessler, must go with him, on account of the family
connection, that the young fellow may leguminiren."
"Good heavens!" cried Frau Nuessler, "shall I go to see the young Herr!"
"No," said Zachary Braesig, "you go to the young Frau, and Rudolph to
the young Herr. Where is Rudolph? Rudolph must come in immediately."
Rudolph was quite ready to undertake the errand for his cousin
Gottlieb, and it was settled that, the next day, he should drive with
his aunt to Pumpelhagen.
It so happened; but when the deputation drove up to the manor house,
Herr von Rambow was not at home, he had gone out riding; so they were
announced to the gracious lady, and met with a very friendly reception.
"Gracious lady," said Frau Nuessler, going up to the young Frau, in her
truehearted way, without many compliments, "you will not take it
unkindly, if I speak Platt-Deutsch; I know a little High German; but it
is almost nothing. We are old-fashioned people, and I always say a
bright tin plate pleases me better than a silver one which is
tarnished."
Frida herself took off the good Frau's wrappings, and pressed her to
sit down by her on the sofa; she motioned Rudolph to a chair, and would
have seated herself again, but she was held back by Frau Nuessler, who
said to her, quite confidentially:
"You see, gracious lady, this is a nephew of mine, who is going to be
my son-in-law; he is a son of Kurz the merchant, in Rahnstadt, with
whom you have traded."
Rudolph bowed, as was his place, and the young Frau, with her bright
ways, soon made an end of the introduction, and got Frau Nuessler seated
on the sofa.
"Yes," said the stout lady, "he has studied too, but he didn't go very
far; but now that he has become a farmer, he is doing finely, as
Hilgendorf has written to Braesig."
That was all very fine for Rudolph; but it annoyed him to be talked
about, so he interrupted Frau Nuessler.
"But, dear aunt, you don't want to tell about me, you want to tell
about Gottlieb."
"Yes, gracious lady, that is properly my errand; you see, I have still
another, who is also to be my son-in-law, also a nephew, Rector
Baldrian's son, in Rahnstadt, who has studied regularly, and learned
everything that he ought, and can be a pastor any day. Now our good
old Herr Pastor has gone to heaven,--ah gracious lady, what a man he
was!--and you cannot blame me, if I have the wish to keep my Lining in
the neighbourhood, and that Gottlieb should get the parish."
"No, dear Frau Nuessler," said Frida, "I do not blame you, and if it
depended on me, your future son-in-law should, by all means, have the
presentation, on our side; I have heard so much good of you and your
daughters."
"Have you really?" asked Frau Nuessler, warmed to the heart. "Yes, they
are dear, good little girls!" she exclaimed.
At this moment, footsteps were heard outside, and Herr von Rambow, who
had returned from his ride, came in. The young wife undertook the
introductions, and Axel looked uncommonly grave, at the names. Rudolph
was not disconcerted, however; he had a fine trump to play, which he
did not mean to stake for nothing; he went up to the Herr, and said:
"Herr von Rambow, may I be allowed a few words with you in private?"
Axel went with him into the next room.
"Herr von Rambow," said Rudolph, "the week before last, you lost two
thousand thalers in gold,--as you have said, all in Danish double
louis-d'ors; the day-laborer made his escape, and it seems that he will
not be easily retaken; but they are on the track of the money."
"What?" cried Axel. "How do you know that?"
"Since yesterday afternoon, I know that the trial-justice, the
burgomeister, at Rahnstadt, has obtained a very clear indication in
this direction. I was with my father, in his shop, when a woman came
in, a weaver's wife, who is suing for a divorce from her husband, and
wanted change for a Danish double louis-d'or. I know the woman, she is
miserably poor, and the burgomeister knows also, from the divorce suit,
that she has nothing, nothing at all. My father and I gave information
of this occurrence, and in the examination it came out that, besides
the gold pieces alluded to, she had other money, of which she could
give no account, and it also came out--which is the principal
thing--that she had gone on the same road with the messenger, on the
same morning."
"How is it possible!" cried Axel; "then didn't the fellow steal the
money himself?"
"It seems," said Rudolph, "as if it had been stolen from him. Our
prudent old burgomeister has had the woman arrested, on other minor
charges of theft, and has forbidden my father and me to mention the
matter; to yourself, on the contrary, when he heard that I was coming
this way, he expressly allowed me to speak of it. You will certainly
hear from him, by letter, very soon."
"Herr Kurz," said Axel, "I am extremely obliged to you, for riding over
to give me this information," and he gave the young man his hand.
Rudolph laughed a little, and said finally, "If this had been all, I
should have come alone, but you have noticed my aunt, she has something
very much at heart."
"If I can serve you in any way----" said Axel, courteously.
"Come, I will say it right out, a cousin of mine, a theological
candidate, proposes himself, through my aunt, for the presentation to
the Gurlitz living."
"A cousin? I thought you were a theologue yourself."
"Was! Herr von Rambow, was!" cried Rudolph briskly. "I believe I am not
sufficiently highly organized, as they call it now-a-days, and I
preferred to become a farmer, and I can tell you," he went on, looking
joyously in the young Herr's eyes, "since then, I have been a very
happy man."
It must have been a terribly churlish fellow who would not have warmed
at contact with such fresh life, and Axel was still, on the whole, a
good apple, bruised a little here and there, on the outside, and a
little soiled, but inside, yet sound at the core; he exclaimed
heartily:
"That is right? That is right! That has been my experience. The life of
a Mecklenburg farmer shall yet be worth one's while. Where are you
staying, Herr Kurz?"
"With the greatest farmer of the age, with Hilgendorf, at Little
Tetzleben," laughed Rudolph.
"A very capable man!" said Axel, "thorough-bred too! that is to say,
his horses."
And now they began to talk of Gray Momus, and Herodotus, and Black
Overshire, and Hilgendorf received his share of attention, and when
Rudolph finally stood up, and offered his hand to Herr von Rambow, it
was very kindly pressed, and the Herr said:
"Rely upon it, no other than your cousin shall get the presentation
from me."
As they came back into the parlor, Frau Nuessler rose from the sofa, and
said to Frida, "He would give his life for you, and for the Herr," and
going up to the Herr, she said, "isn't it so? you will do it, Herr von
Rambow? It will make me so happy if I can keep my Lining in the
neighborhood."
Axel was not disposed to like such a free, off-hand reception, nor was
he--though of course without any reasonable ground--disposed to like
the Nuessler ways; but the news that there was a possibility of
recovering his two thousand thalers, the "thorough-bred" talk with
Rudolph, and the really impressive, simple, true-hearted manners of
Frau Nuessler, had their effect; he went up to his wife and said:
"Dear Frida, we have a prospect of recovering our two thousand
thalers."
"The dear God grant it!" said Frau Nuessler. "Rudolph, have you spoken
to the gracious Herr?"
"Yes," replied Axel for him, "the business is settled, he shall have
the presentation from me; but--I should like to see him first."
"That is nothing more than right and proper," said Frau Nuessler; "who
would buy a cat in a bag? And you shall see, if he is appointed, and
preaches, you shall see that he _can_; but, dear heart! stupid? Well,
everybody is stupid about something; I cannot promise for that."
And so they rode off. Gottlieb would have the presentation.
"So," said Braesig, "the business is well started; now Gottlieb has only
his last execution at Pomuchelskopp's and then the election! But he
must strike while the iron is hot, and since neither God nor man can
help him with Zamel Pomuchelskopp, he must run his risk, and that
quickly."
The opinion was reasonable, and Gottlieb got a letter containing a
positive command that he should report himself at Rexow, next day,
there to receive further instructions.
He arrived, and, when Braesig had briefly explained the business, he was
ready to undertake the dangerous errand. Krischan the coachman drove
the Phantom up to the door, Lining brought a foot-sack and cloak and
shawls, and tucked her future husband warmly in.
"That is right," said Braesig; "wrap him up, Lining, so that he may not
freeze, and that the catarrh may not run away with his fine voice; it
is showery weather to-day."
Suddenly Jochen Nuessler rose up from his chimney-corner, and said,
"Mining, my cloak!"
"Well, this is a fine time of day!" said Braesig.
"Jochen, what do you want?" asked Frau Nuessler.
"Mother," said young Jochen, "you went with Rudolph, I will go with
Gottlieb. I will do my share of the business," and he made such a
decided motion of the head, and looked at them all with so much
expression, that Braesig cried out, "May you keep the nose on your face!
I never saw the like, in all my life."
"Ah, Braesig," said Frau Nuessler, "he is always like that lately; but
lei him go, there is no use talking."
And Jochen rode on with him. Lining, however, went up to her little
chamber, and prayed as earnestly for Gottlieb, on his difficult,
errand, as if he were really going to execution.
Jochen and Gottlieb rode on through the deep mud, in silence; neither
spoke a word, for each had his own thoughts, and the only remark made
was when Krischan looked round over his shoulder, and said, "Herr, if
one should drive here in the dark, and slip, he might turn over very
conveniently." So, about four o'clock in the afternoon, they arrived at
Pomuchelskopp's.
Pomuchelskopp lay like a lump of misfortune on his sofa, rubbing his
eyes, for Gustaving had startled him out of his afternoon sleep, when
he came in for the key of the granary, for it was Saturday, and he
wanted to give out the grain.
"Gustaving," he cried spitefully, "you will be an awkward fellow all
your days, you are a regular dunce! Blockhead! I will put you on a
pole, for all the people to see what a dunce you are!"
"Yes, father----"
"Eh, what? yes, father! How often have I told you not to make such a
clattering with the keys, when your father is trying to rest! What
carriage is that, driving up the yard?"
"Good gracious!" cried Gustaving, "that is our neighbor Nuessler, and
another Herr."
"Blockhead!" exclaimed Pomuchelskopp. "How often have I told you, you
should not call everybody neighbor! The day-laborer, Brinkmann, will be
my neighbor next, because he lives near my garden; I will not be
neighbor to everybody," and with that he went to the door, to see what
was going to happen.
Jochen and Gottlieb, meanwhile, had got down from the carriage, and
Jochen came up to him: "Good day, neighbor!" Pomuchelskopp made him a
very ceremonious bow, such as he had learned to make at the Landtag,
and showed them into the parlor. It was very still in the room, if one
excepts the little creaking of the chairs; Jochen thought Gottlieb
ought to speak, Gottlieb thought Jochen ought to speak, and
Pomuchelskopp thought he ought not to speak, lest he should commit
himself to something. Finally, however, Gottlieb began:
"Herr Pomuchelskopp, the good, brave Pastor Behrens has gone to God,
and if it seems hard, and almost unchristian, that I should offer
myself, so soon after his death, as a candidate for the vacant parish,
yet I do not believe that I offend against the common feelings of
humanity, or the duty of a true Christian; because I am conscious that
I take this step only to satisfy the wishes of my own parents, as well
as those of my future father and mother-in-law."
That was a fine speech for Gottlieb, and he was right, in every
respect; but Pomuchelskopp had the right of it, also, when he made no
other reply than to say to Gottlieb, all that might be, but he wished
to know with whom he had the honor of speaking. Jochen motioned with
his head to Gottlieb that he should tell him frankly, and Gottlieb said
that he was the son of Rector Baldrian, and a candidate. Jochen lay
back comfortably in his chair, after this announcement, as if the
business were settled, and he could smoke his pipe in peace. But since
Muchel had offered him no pipe, he had to content himself with going
through the motions, with his mouth, puffing away like a Bohemian carp,
when it comes up for air.
"Herr Candidate," said Pomuchelskopp, "there have been several of your
sort, already, to see me about this business,"--this was a lie, but he
knew no other way of managing a parish business, than if he were
selling a lot of fat swine to the butcher,--"but I have let them all
go, because the matter with me turns upon one point."
"And that was?" asked Gottlieb. "My examina----"
"That is nothing to me," said the Herr Proprietor, "I mean the Pastor's
acre. If you will consent to rent the field to me,--of course for a
good, a very good price,--then you shall have my vote, otherwise not."
"I think I have heard," said Gottlieb, "that the field is rented to the
Herr von Rambow, and I should not like----"
"You may set your mind at rest on that point, Herr von Rambow will not
rent the field again," and Pomuchelskopp looked at Gottlieb in an
overbearing way, as if he had sold his fat swine at the highest price.
Jochen said nothing, but stopped his puffing for a moment, and looked
at his candidate son-in-law, as if to ask, "What do you say now?"
Gottlieb was beyond his depth, for he was very ignorant of worldly
affairs, but he reflected, and his honorable nature was strongly
opposed to entering upon his clerical office by means of such a
bargain; he said, therefore, frankly:
"I cannot and will not give such a promise; I do not wish to procure
the living by such means. It will be time enough to settle that
business when I am in the living."
"So?" asked the Herr Proprietor, grinning at Gottlieb and Jochen,
"then, let me tell you, the fox is too wise for you; what comes after,
the wolf seizes, and if Herr von Rambow should not change his mind
about the field, you can rent it to your Herr father-in-law. Isn't it
so, to your Herr father-in-law?"
That was an infamous speech of Pomuchelskopp's. Jochen rent the field!
Jochen, who from morning to night bore such a heavy burden, should take
this also on his shoulders! He sprang quickly to his feet, and said,
"Herr Neighbor, if a man do what he can do, what can he do more; and
what can I do about it? If the Pumpelhagen Herr will not have the
field, neither will I, I have enough to do."
"Herr Nuessler," said Pomuchelskopp, craftily, "will you give me that in
writing, that you will not rent the field?"
"Yes," said Jochen readily, and he sat down again comfortably in his
chair, and smoked on. Pomuchelskopp walked up and down the room, and
calculated: Herr von Rambow gave up the lease, Jochen would not take
it, they were the only ones who could use it, the field was too small
to rent as a farm by itself, and he, as the proprietor, need not allow
it; it came to this, whether Gottlieb could farm it himself, and
Pomuchelskopp examined him with reference to that question, looking at
him sideways, as he walked back and forth.
There are all sorts of men in the world, and every one has his peculiar
talents, and most people have a good deal of one kind of talent, and
other kinds in much smaller proportions; in Gottlieb's case, however,
nature seemed to have made a little mistake, she sent him into the
world, at least to all appearance, without the slightest trace of
agricultural talent. Braesig had done his utmost to educate Gottlieb a
little in these matters, but all in vain; what isn't _in_ a man cannot
be brought out of him. Gottlieb could not tell the difference between
oats and barley, he did not know which was ox and which was bull, and
Braesig finally gave him up in despair, sighing, "Good heavens, how will
the poor fellow ever get through the world!"
Pomuchelskopp, the practical old fellow, detected this failing of
Gottlieb's, and was much pleased. "He knows nothing whatever of
farming," said he to himself, "that is my man. But I mustn't let him
know it!"
"Herr Candidate," said he aloud, "I am pleased with you, you are a very
sensible man, and a man of morality--you will not comply with my
request--good! neither will I promise to grant yours. But if Herr
Nuessler will give me a written statement that he will not rent the
Pastor's acre, we need talk no further about the business; for, as I
said, I am pleased with you."
So then Jochen signed his name, and the two old dunces rode off, very
well satisfied with the transaction. They had got nothing, nothing at
all, but a partial promise from the Herr Proprietor, and for that
Jochen had been obliged to give his signature; but they were quite
contented. Jochen was strongly of the opinion, and remained so till his
death, that he had obtained the parish for his son-in-law by his
signature.
Jochen and Gottlieb would have been glad to stop a little while at the
parsonage; but Krischan the coachman opposed it violently, saying it
would never do, it was pitch dark already; so the old Phantom labored
along, in the night and the mist, through the deep country roads. To
night and mist and a phantom, sleep is appropriate, and whoever finds
this four-leaved clover, has the prospect of all sorts of good fortune.
Sleep was not long absent. Jochen slept before they were fairly put of
Gurlitz, and if it had been daylight, one could have seen, from the way
Krischan dragged his whip, that he was beginning to doze, and though
Gottlieb did not sleep he was farther off, in his thoughts, than the
others; for he was dreaming of his Lining, and his parish, and his
election sermon, and his entrance sermon. And when they came to the
place where Krischan had made his intelligent remark, as they were
going, and as the influences of sleep and darkness combined with its
dangers, and Gottlieb had come in his dream to the last election vote,
which gave the decision in his favor, the confounded old Phantom began
to totter, the fore-wheel was up, high and dry, on the shore, and the
hind-wheel, over which Gottlieb sat, fell into a deep hole; so, two
steps further, and splash! the whole company lay in the ditch.
I see, from my window, a great many farmers of the Grand Duke's lands
getting down from their carriages, at my Frau Neighbor's, the landlady
Frau Lurenz, at the "Prince's Arms," but I never in my life saw any one
get down so quickly as Jochen; he shot out, in a great curve, over
Gottlieb, who was lying beneath him, directly, in the soft mud, and
Krischan, old, honest, faithful soul, who could not think of deserting
his master in such a crisis, also shot head-foremost from his seat, and
lay at his master's side.
"Purr--Oh! Herr, just lie still!" cried the honest old fellow, "the
horses will stand!"
"You blockhead!" cried Jochen.
"Praise God!" exclaimed Krischan, getting on his feet, "I am all right.
But Herr, just lie perfectly still, I will hold the horses."
"You blockhead!" said Jochen again, scrambling up, while Gottlieb
splashed and waded about in the deep mire, "how could you turn us over
here?"
"Yes, it is all as true as leather," said Krischan, who, in his long
years of service, had caught his master's expressions, "what could a
body do, on such a road, in such pitch darkness?"
Since Jochen's words were taken out of his mouth in this way, he didn't
know what to say for himself, so he asked, "Gottlieb, are your bones
whole?"
"Yes, uncle," said the candidate, "and yours too?"
"Yes," said Jochen, "except my nose, but that seems clean gone out of
my face."
The carriage had been righted by this time, and, as they got in again,
Krischan turned half round and said:
"Herr, didn't I tell you, this afternoon, this was the place to tip
over?"
"Blockhead!" cried Jochen, rubbing his nose, "you were asleep."
"Asleep, Herr, asleep? In such pitch darkness, it is all the same
whether one sleeps or wakes; but I said so before. I know the road by
heart, and I said so."
And when he afterwards related the story to the other servants, he
always said that he had prophesied it, but the Herr would not listen to
him; holding up Jochen in the light of a venturesome fellow, who would
risk his neck for nothing, against all opposition.
They arrived at the house, and Gottlieb first got down from the
carriage. Lining had been sitting all this time on thorns and nettles
of impatience, and had listened, through the darkness, for every sound
which could bring her certainty of happiness or misfortune. Now she
heard something--that must be--no, it was only the wind in the poplars;
but now! yes, that is a carriage, it came nearer, it drove up,--she
sprang up, she ran to the door, but must stop to press her hand against
her throbbing heart,--how it beat, with hope and fear I would Gottlieb
bring happiness or misfortune? She opened the door.
"Don't touch me!" cried Gottlieb, but it was too late, Lining, although
the oldest, was still very thoughtless, she threw her arms around
Gottlieb, and pressed him to her warm heart; but such a chill struck
through her, that she felt as if she had taken a frog in her arms, she
let him go, exclaiming,--
"Good heavens! what has happened?"
"Overturned," said Gottlieb, "we were, by God's gracious help,
overturned; that is to say, Krischan took care of the overturning, but
God's gracious help preserved us from serious injury."
"How you look!" cried Braesig, who came out with a light, just as Jochen
entered the door.
"Yes, Braesig," said Jochen, "it is all as, true as leather; we were
tipped over."
"Eh, where?" said Braesig, "how could a reasonable man, of your years,
get tipped over, on his own roads? You were asleep, Jochen!"
"Good gracious, Jochen!" cried Frau Nuessler, "how you look!" and she
turned him round, before the light, as if he were a piece of roast
veal, on the spit, which she had just finely basted with gravy.
"Gracious, Jochen! and your nose----"
"And how does the clerical gentleman look?" inquired Braesig, holding
the light to Gottlieb, in front and rear. "Well!" he said, leaving him,
"and now Lining! Why, Lining, you were not tipped over! Frau Nuessler,
just look at her! She has half the road from here to Gurlitz upon her
clothes!"
Lining blushed deeply, and Mining wiped off the mud from her, and Frau
Nuessler did the same for Jochen.
"Gracious, Jochen, how you have muddied yourself! Now, just look at it,
the nice new cloak!" Jochen had purchased it for his wedding, some
twenty years before. "Well, it can't be helped; I must rip it all out,
and to-morrow the whole thing must be washed in the brook."
Orders were issued accordingly, and, after a little while, the two
travellers were seated, in dry clothes, at the table, in the
living-room. Now, for the first time, Frau Nuessler saw her Jochen's
nose, in a clear light.
"Jochen," said she, "how your nose looks!"
"Yes, they said so," replied Jochen.
"Jochen," said Braesig, "I must be an infamous liar, if I ever said that
your nose was particularly handsome; but--may you keep the nose on your
face!--what a nose you have on your face!"
"For shame, Braesig, how can you wish he should keep such a nose as
that? Preserve us! it grows bigger and bigger! What can be done for
it?"
"Frau Nuessler," said Braesig, "he must go to the water-cure."
"What?" said Frau Nuessler, "my Jochen go to the water-cure, because he
has bumped his nose?"
"You don't understand me," said Braesig, "he need not go, wholly and
entirely, body and bones, to the water-cure; he shall only send his
nose there; we must make him cold bandages. Or, Jochen, could you bleed
a little from the nose? It would refresh you very much."
But Jochen could not do that, so they prepared the cold bandages, and
Jochen sat there, very stately and contented, with his nose wrapped up
in wet linen, and, under his nose, his pipe of tobacco.
"But," said Braesig, "no mortal knows yet how you succeeded with Zamel
Pomuchelskopp."
"Yes," said Lining, "how was it, Gottlieb?" So Gottlieb described their
interview with the Herr Proprietor, and when he had finished, Jochen
said,--
"Yes, it is all settled, I have signed my name."
"Jochen, what have you signed your name for?" asked Braesig, angrily.
"About the Pastor's acre, that I will not rent it."
"Then you have done something very foolish. Oh, the Jesuit! _He_ wants
the Pastor's acre. Nightingale, I hear thee singing, from the little
brook wilt drink. That was his great end and aim! But--but"--he sprang
up, and stalked about the room, "I will spoil your game. Hear to the
end, says Kotelmann. Zamel Pomuchelskopp, we will talk about this! What
does the celebrated poet say, about David and Goliath? I consider
myself David, and him Goliath. 'He took the sling into his hand, and
smote him on the brow, headlong he fell.' And how finely the same
celebrated poet says, in his grand concluding words, 'So ever does the
boaster fall, and when he thinks he firmly stands, then lies he in the
ditch.' And so it shall be with you, Zamel! And, Frau Nuessler, now I
have got myself angry, and can eat no supper, so I will say 'Good
night,' for I have all sorts of things to think about."
He took his candle and departed, and after supper they all went early
to bed, and Lining lay a long time, wakeful through care and anxiety,
and listened to the wind in the trees, and the steps in the room
beneath, which went back and forth, back and forth, in the same
measure; for there Uncle Braesig lodged, and--as he said next
morning--was planning campaign that night.