New-Year's day, 1846, had come, and brought its kind wishes, and the
Rahnstadters congratulated each other, in the cold streets, or in the
warm parlors, just as it happened, and some people slept until noon,
and ate pickled herrings, because it was Sylvester's eve, and there was
much talk among the young people of this and that, which had happened
at the ball, yesterday, and the old folks sat together, and talked of
what had happened, not indeed at the ball, but in the world. And the
story of Habermann and Herr von Rambow was a chief dish, which was
served up at all tables; and as every house had its own cookery, so it
had also its own gossip, one believed the story so, and another so, and
each suited it to his own palate, and invited his neighbor as guest,
and Slusuhr and David went everywhere, as unbidden guests, and the one
added his pepper, and the other his garlic to the dish. And so, for the
city of Rahnstadt and the region round about the story and the slander
became richer in its process, as each seasoned it with his favorite
spice: Habermann had for years been cheating his two masters, and had
accummulated a great pile of money, which was the reason why the young
Herr von Rambow was always in pecuniary embarrassment; he had gone
halves with the lay-laborer Regel, in his robbery, and had helped him
off and given him a recommendation. Whether Jochen Nuessler had assisted
in the conspiracy, people were not definitely informed. But at last the
apothecary Triddelsitz's son, who was an uncommonly wideawake and
discreet young man, had come upon the track, by secretly examining
Habermann's books, in which he discovered the whole imposition, word
for word. He had told it to the housekeeper, Marie Moeller, and they
both agreed that Triddelsitz must take the book till Habermann had
gone, and the considerate young man did so, and carried it with him to
Demmin, intending to deliver it afterwards to Herr von Rambow. But, the
next day, Habermann had missed the book, and was persuaded that Herr
von Rambow had taken it, so he went to him, and told him he was a
rascal, and demanded his book again, and when the young Herr could not
give it him, he aimed a rifle at his breast. The young Herr would not
bear that, and grappled with him for the rifle, and it went off, and
the Herr von Rambow was now lying at the point of death. Habermann was
doubtless in concealment, somewhere in the city. This was pretty nearly
the story which the Rahnstadters had pieced together, and everybody
wondered that the burgomeister did not have such a dangerous man put in
prison.
There were, fortunately, two intelligent beings in the city, who would
not bite at the story; one was Moses, who, when David told him of the
affair, said merely, "David, you are too stupid!" and went about his
business, the other was the burgomeister himself, who shook his head
and also went about his business. The Rector Baldrian did not go about
his business, for he had a vacation, and he said if the whole city said
so there must be something in it, but so much he would say, and he
would go to the sacrament upon it, his Gottlieb's father-in-law, Jochen
Nuessler, was not in the conspiracy. Kurz said it was possible, but he
would never have suspected it of old Habermann; but no one could read
the heart of another. Meanwhile, he must say, one thing seemed to him
improbable, that Fritz Triddelsitz could have acted with much
discretion, and he believed that part of the business must have
happened differently. Just for the reason that his Fritz had
distinguished himself, the apothecary believed in the story, and told
it all over the city, that he might increase his dear son's celebrity.
And so strangely does destiny play with us. At this very moment when
Fritz's renown was spread through the whole city, he himself stood
before that dreadful criminal, Habermann, in the guise of a penitent
sinner, begging him earnestly to forgive his share in the trouble, he
had not done it intentionally. Habermann stroked his chestnut hair, and
said, "Let it go Triddelsitz! But notice one thing; many a good action
has evil consequences in the world, and many an evil one has good; but
we are not responsible for the consequences, those lie in other hands,
and the consequences do not make an action either good or bad. If you
had not done wrong, in deceiving me about your grain-account, your
conscience would not trouble you, and you need not have stood before me
thus. But I forgive you; and now take the receipt for the money, and be
a good, steady fellow! And now, good-bye!"
He gave him a receipt, for the gracious Frau had sent him his salary,
and this money he had paid out, by Fritz.
Fritz went to the inn, when he had left his horse. There were many
people there and they flocked around him: "Well, how is it? You did that
well!" "Is the Herr von Rambow dangerously hurt?" "Then he is still
living!" "Do let Herr Triddelsitz speak!" "Just tell us----" "No, just
tell us, have you got Habermann?"
Fritz was in no mood for narration, he had no desire to expose his own
stupidity; he pushed through the crowd, with a few general remarks, and
mounted his horse, and the Rahnstadters said, with one accord, he was a
very discreet young man, he would not sound his own praises.
If the Rahnstadters gathered about Fritz, in their curiosity, as if he
were a bottle of syrup, and they the flies, they were to have a still
richer treat; this New-year's day was to be a real news-day. Scarcely
had Fritz, outwardly so proud and reserved, inwardly so dejected and
penitent, ridden away from the door, when a carriage drove up to
the inn,--the gentleman driving himself, and the coachman sitting
behind,--and the Rahnstadters flattened their noses against the window
panes; who could that be? "He looks wonderfully familiar to me," said
one. "Yes, I have surely seen him before," said another. "Is it
not----" began a third. "Eh, what? No, it is'nt the one you think,"
said Bank, the shoemaker. "I know him," said Wimmersdort the tailor, "I
have made him many a coat, that is the Herr von Rambow who lives beyond
Schwerin, at Hogen-Selchow, the cousin of the Pumpelhagen Herr." "The
tailor is right, it is he." "Yes, it is he." "Probably he comes on
account of this story." "That must be it, for the Pumpelhagen Herr lies
so low, he can attend to nothing. You shall see, he will take the
business in hand." And as Franz came in to lay off his furs, the
Rahnstadters all stood with their backs against the windows, with their
backs against the stove, with their backs against the walls, and all
looked to the middle of the room, where Franz stood, as it were,
surrounded by a web of curiosity, from which all the threads ran to the
middle, where he was caught, like a helpless fly.
Franz went out, spoke a couple of words to the servant, and went off
towards the market. "Johann," asked one from the window, "what did he
say to you?" "Ah," said Johann, "he only asked after the burgomeister,
if he was at home." "Did you hear? he asked after the burgomeister; he
is going to work in earnest." "Johann," said another, "did he say
nothing else?" "Yes, he asked where the parson's wife lived, who has
moved here lately, near Kurz the shopkeeper." "Ha, ha! Do you notice
that? The inspector is probably stowed away, with the parson's wife.
Well, good-bye."
"Gossip Wimmersdorf, where are you going?" "Oh, I shall drop in at
Kurz's." "Wait, I will go too." "That is so," said another, "at Kurz's,
we can see everything finely." "Yes, let us go to Kurz's," and it was
not long before Kurz's shop was fuller of customers than he had seen it
for a long time, and every one took a dram, and some two, and Kurz said
to himself, "Thank God! the new year begins finely."
After a while, Franz came back from the market, and went past Kurz's
shop, directly up to the Frau Pastorin's door.
"How? He has no policeman with him!" said one.
"Yes, Hoppner is not at home, he has gone to get a pig to-day, from the
farmer at Prebberow."
"Oh, that is all right, then."
"How Habermann will feel, when he finds himself caught!" said
Wimmersdorf.
"Children, my feet are getting cold," said Bank, the shoemaker, "I am
going home."
"What? You may as well wait till the business comes to a head," said
Thiel, the cabinet-maker.
"What do you know about it?" said Bank. "It seems to me as if there
was'nt a word of truth in the whole story."
"What? You told me the story, yourself, this morning," said Thiel.
"Yes, that is so, but morning talk is not evening talk. I have
considered the matter since then."
"That is to say, you have got cold feet over it," said the tailor. All
laughed.
"That is a stupid joke," said the shoemaker, "and the whole story is a
stupid joke; the old inspector has traded with me all these years, and
has always paid his accounts honestly, and is he likely, in his old
age, to take to cheating and stealing?"
"Eh, you may talk! But when the whole city says so?"
"Eh, the whole city! Here stands Herr Kurz, ask him if he has'nt always
paid honestly! Ask the man what he says to it!"
"What I say to it? I say nothing," said Kurz, "but I don't believe it,
and I have my own reasons."
"There, do you hear?"
"Yes, it may possibly be so."
"Yes, I said, all along, the matter looked very strange to me."
"Well," said Wimmersdorf, "he never traded with me, and I don't see why
I should'nt believe it."
"Eh, tailor, don't let yourself be laughed at!"
"Yes, children, laugh at the tailor!"
"Now, I will tell you something," said Bank, smiting with his fist on
the counter. "Come here, all of you,--Herr Kurz, fill the glasses once
more! Now let us all drink to our brave, old, honest inspector!"
And they did so, and went home with a stronger belief than ever in
Habermann, and with all of them, except Wimmersdorf the tailor, the old
man was reinstated in his good name. Why? Because Bank the shoemaker
had cold feet.
Upon such little things often depends good or evil opinion. Here, the
good prevailed; but what availed the good opinion of a few
insignificant mechanics against that secret, invisible power which
determined the fate of the children of men in this little city, and
held the entangled threads of happiness and misery in its hand, and
pulls them, so that one must dance on the string, at its will? I mean
that secret tribunal which the women folks hold, in the quiet evening
hours, to the terror of all evil-doers, over their knitting and
tea. There, every sinner gets his deserts, he is pricked with the
knitting-needles, pinched with the sugar-tongs, burned in the
spirit-lamp, and every biscuit or muschueken[9] soaked in the teacups
gives a faithful picture of the condition of his terrified soul, if he
were standing before this tribunal. What did this Rahnstadt Female
Assembly care for Hans Bank's good opinion, or his cold feet? What for
Habermann's well-paid accounts? These judges went seriously to
work; they first took account, in an intelligent manner, of the
antecedents,--as jurists say,--and they found the case very weak, for
Habermann, for Louise, for the Frau Pastorin, even for Braesig. Malchen
and Salchen Pomuchelskopp had circulated all the particulars, here a
little drop and there a little drop, Salchen had gathered those
precious pearls together, and arranged them in proper order, and even
David had helped a little, and so the Female Assembly had a very
correct representation of Franz's attachment to Louise, of Habermann's
and the Frau Pastorin's match-making, and of Braesig's scandalous
tale-bearing, which they were qualified to make use of, in the best
possible manner.
The preliminaries had just been disposed of, when the wife of the city
Syndic, (Recorder,) and the merchant's wife. Madam Krummhorn, came in
together, and received a friendly scolding from the hostess, because
they were so late. They defended themselves, in rather a condescending
way, saying nothing of importance, but they sat down with such a swing,
and took out their knitting with such significant shaking of heads,
that the high tribunal must have been excessively stupid, if it had not
observed that they had something special on their minds. It did its
duty, beginning to feel round, by degrees, but the Frau Syndic and the
Frau Krummhorn were prepared for resistance, and pinched their lips
together, like live oysters, and the knives applied by the high
tribunal were not successful in opening the shells. With sighs, the
assembly took up its knitting-work, and soaked a couple of fresh
muschueken in its tea, and with horror the two oysters became aware that
their fast-locked news was stale, and that the best juice had run out
from it; they opened, therefore, of their own accord, and the Frau
Syndic asked the burgomeisterin, if a young gentleman had not called on
the Herr Burgomeister that afternoon. Yes, said the Frau
Burgomeisterin, the cousin of Herr von Rambow had been to see her
husband, they had just been speaking of it.
"And what did he want?" asked the Frau Syndic.
"To inform himself how the examination about the stolen money had
resulted, and he also asked whether the stories in Pumpelhagen--you
know, the shooting--had any connection with that affair."
"And what else?" inquired Frau Syndic, looking down at her knitting.
"My husband has told me nothing more," said the burgomeisterin.
"And do you believe that?" asked Frau Syndic. Now it is a shame, before
any tribunal, especially before such as this, to expect it to believe
any simple, natural story. The burgomeisterin felt the accusation,
which was implied in this question, and said sharply:
"If you know it better, dear, tell it yourself."
One oyster looked at the other, and both laughed aloud. Well, when such
a fat oyster--for the Frau Syndic was fat, and Frau Krummhorn was also
well-to-do--laughs so at another, it makes a great impression upon
people, and as a natural consequence the company laid their knitting in
their laps, and looked at the oysters.
"Good heavens!" cried the hostess, at last, "what do you know?"
"Frau Krummhorn may tell," said Frau Syndic, coolly. "She saw it as
well as I."
Frau Krummhorn was a good woman, she could relate well and skilfully;
but her gift of the gab had one failing, it was like Protonotary
Scharfer's legs,--rudderless; and just like the protonotary, she was
obliged to call out to one and another, "Hold me fast!" or "Turn me
round!" She began: "Yes, he came right across the market-place."
"Who?" asked a stupid little assessor, who could not comprehend the
business.
"Keep still!" cried everybody.
"So, he came right across the market-place. I knew him again directly,
he had bought himself a new suit, of my husband, a black dress-coat,
and blue trousers, eh, what do I say! a blue dress-coat and black
trousers: I can see him, as if it were yesterday, he always wore
yellow-leather breeches and boot-tops,--or was that Fritz Triddelsitz?
I really am not quite sure. Yes, what was I saying?"
"He came right across the market-place," said a chorus of three voices.
"Exactly! He came right across the market-place, and into the Frau
Syndic's street, I had just gone into Frau Syndic's, for she wanted to
show me her new curtains, they came from the Jew Hirsch's,--no, I
know,--the Jew Baeren's, who has lately become bankrupt. It is
remarkable, my husband says, how all our Jews become bankrupt, and yet
grow richer all the time, no Christian merchant can compete with these
confounded Jews. How far had I got?"
"He came into the Frau Syndic's street."
"Ah, yes! The Frau Syndic and I were standing at the window, and could
look right into the parlor of the Frau Pastorin Behrens, and the Frau
Syndic said her husband had told her, if the Frau Pastorin would go to
law about it,--no, not the Frau Pastorin, it was the Church, or else
the Consistory,--then Herr Pomuchelskopp, or somebody else, must build
a new parsonage at Gurlitz, and the Frau Syndic----"
But the Frau Syndic could contain herself no longer,--in putting up
Frau Krummhorn to tell the story, she had prepared a fine rod for her
own impatience, so she interrupted her, without ceremony:
"And then he went into the Frau Pastorin's and, without waiting, right
into the parlor, and the old Frau rose from the sofa, and made such a
motion of the hand, as if she would keep him away from her, and looked
as distressed as if a misfortune had happened to her, and that might
well be the case; and then she placed a chair, and urged him to sit
down; but he did not sit down, and when the Frau Pastorin went out, he
walked up and down the room, like--like----"
"Frau Syndic," said Frau Krummhorn, "you repeated a fine couplet this
afternoon."
"Why, yes. 'King of deserts is the Lion, when he strides along his
path.' Well, he strode up and down like such a king of deserts, and
when the old inspector and his daughter came in, he rushed up to them,
with the bitterest reproaches."
"But, good gracious!" said the little assessor, laying her knitting in
her lap, "could you hear, then?"
"No, dear," said Frau Syndic, laughing at the stupidity of the little
assessor, "we did not _hear_ it; but Frau Krummhorn and I both _saw_
it, saw it with our own eyes. And the old inspector stood before him,
like a poor sinner, and looked down, and let it all go over his head,
and his daughter threw her arm about his neck, as if she would protect
him."
"Yes," interrupted Frau Krummhorn, "it was just so, as when old Stahl,
the cooper, was arrested, because he had stolen hoops. His daughter
Marik sprang between him and the policeman, Hoppner, and would not let
her father be taken to the Rath-house, because of his white hair; but
he had stolen the hoops, I am sure of it, for I had him put three new
hoops about my milk-pail, and my husband said it was all the same to
us, whether they were stolen or not, and for the milk also, it would
not turn sour, on account of the stolen hoops; but I have noticed----"
"Right, Frau Krummhorn," said Frau Syndic, stopping her, "you noticed,
also, how pale the girl looked, and how she trembled, when the young
Herr turned to her, and released himself."
"No," said Frau Krummhorn, honestly, "she looked pale, but I did not
see that she trembled."
"_I_ saw it," said the Frau Syndic, "she trembled like _that_,"
shaking herself back and forth in her chair, as if it were a warm
summer day, and she were shaking off the flies,--"and he stood before
her, like this,"--here she stood up--"'The last link is broken,' as my
son, the student, sings, and he looked at her _so_," and here she
looked so angrily at the little assessor, that the latter grew quite
red, "and then the old Frau Pastorin thrust herself between them, and
tried to quiet her, and soothed him, and talked so much, and perhaps
succeeded in a measure, for he gave them both the hand, at parting; but
when he left the house, it was clearly to be read in his face, how glad
he was that he had broken off with this company. Wasn't it so, Frau
Krummhorn?"
"I didn't see that," said the merchant's wife, "I was looking at the
young girl, how she stood with her arms crossed on her breast, and so
pale. God bless me! I have seen pale girls enough,--only lately, my
brother's daughter, she has the pale sickness, and the doctor is always
saying, 'Iron! iron!' but she has iron enough, her father is a
blacksmith. He might have been something very different, for our late
father----"
"Ah, the poor girl!" cried the stupid little assessor, "she is such a
pretty girl. And the poor old man! I cannot believe that, with his
white hair, he has done such dreadful things."
"Dear," said the Frau Syndic, with a look at the little assessor,
which, interpreted into ordinary language, meant "You goose!"--"dear,
be careful of such indiscriminate compassion, and beware how you
associate with people who are connected with criminals."
"Yes, he has done it," went from mouth to mouth, from stocking to
stocking, from cup to cup. The little assessor was silenced; but all at
once, a couple of gray, old, experienced advocates stood up for her,
who usually in the tea-fights were retained as state-attorneys for the
prosecution, but, to-day, undertook the defense. They had looked at
each other and nodded, during the Frau Syndic's speech; they would let
her tell it all out quietly, and then they would free their minds. And
the Frau Syndic had done a stupid thing, she had forgotten the
relationship, for the two old advocates were Frau Kurz, and Frau
Rectorin Baldrian, and now was their time, and they took the Frau
Syndic by the collar:
"Dear, how do you know that Habermann is a criminal?"
"Darling, didn't you know that Habermann is brother-in-law to my
brother?"
"Dear, you should be careful of your sharp tongue."
"Darling, you have often got into trouble on account of it."
So they shot each other, with "Dear" and "Darling," back and forth
across the table, and the tea-spoons clattered in the cups, and the
cap-ribbons fluttered under the chins, the innocent knitting-work was
bundled together, and stuffed into bags; the Frau Burgomeisterin took
sides with the two advocates, for she had not forgotten the Frau
Syndic's sharp words; the hostess ran from one to another, and begged
by all that was holy, they would not disgrace her so sadly, as to break
out into such a quarrel at her tea, and the little assessor began to
cry bitterly, for she believed that she was the cause of the whole
disturbance. But the mischief was done; half went away, the other half
stayed, and Rahnstadt was divided into two parties.
And the people, about whom all the fuss was made, were sitting, if not
peacefully, yet quietly, in their room, with no suspicion how much
trouble and breaking of heads they had caused to their next neighbors,
and how much strife and hatred. They had no idea that the stern look,
which the Frau Syndic shot across the street from her red face
signified anything to them, and the little Frau Pastorin remarked more
than once, "From her looks the Frau Syndic must be a very determined
and energetic person, who would keep good order in her household." And
Louise had no suspicion that the pretty young girl, who went back and
forth past their house, and cast many a stolen glance at her window,
was filled to the depths of her heart with sympathy for her, and that
this was the foolish little assessor, who had taken her part at the
tea-fight.
Ah no, these people had something quite different to think of, and to
care about; Louise must keep her sick heart still, and conceal it from
the world, that her father might not see its bleeding wounds, which the
visit of Franz had torn open afresh; Habermann was more quiet and
profoundly thoughtful, after this visit than before; he had neither
eyes nor thoughts for anything but his child. He sat lost in
reflection, only, when his daughter looked paler and more absent-minded
than usual, he would spring up, and run out into the little garden, and
walk up and down, till he became composed. Ah, where was his hatred,
when he saw his child's love! Where was his anger against the world,
when, in the world nearest him, he saw only kindness and friendliness?
Hate and anger must disappear from such a heart; but sadness remained,
and the most pitiful compassion, for the destiny of his only child. The
little Frau Pastorin thought no longer of her duster, she had something
else to care for than tables and chairs. She must clear away the
rubbish from two hearts, which had grown fast to her own, and she
polished away at them, with her efforts to comfort, till they should be
bright and clear again: but her labor was in vain, at least with
Habermann. The sinews of the old man's strength were cut, with his good
name, every joy and hope of life was gone, and the unwonted quiet and
inaction made him more and more depressed, so that his case would have
been a lamentable one, if the sweet voice of his child had not
sometimes banished the evil spirit, as the singing of the youthful
David the evil spirit of King Saul. All that Franz had urged so
impressively, that the chief difficulty was removed by the finding of
the book, that he must know what a weak, inconsiderate creature his
cousin Axel was, and that his judgment could not harm him, that _he_
should believe in him, though all the world were against him, for he
had another world in his own breast; all this, which the Frau Pastorin
repeated, he put aside, and remained firm in his resolve that, so long
as his innocence was not fully established about the stolen money, so
long his name was branded with disgrace, and he must hold back the
young man, even against his will, that his own reputation might not be
injured.
This was now, seen by daylight, sheer nonsense, and many a one might
here ask, with reason, Why did he not, with his good conscience, go
freely and boldly before the world, and scorn their lying rumors? And I
agree, the question is reasonable; he should have done it, and he would
have done it, if he had still been the _old_ Habermann. But he was so
no longer, through provocations, injuries and neglect, he had grown
morbid, and now came this open accusation, and the dreadful scene with
his master, and the young Frau had deserted him, for whom he would have
given his life, and all this happened at a time when his heart had just
opened to the hope of a happy future. The frosts of winter do no harm;
spring will yet come; but when everything is fresh and growing, and the
snow falls upon our green hopes, then there is snow and trouble, and
all the little song-birds, who were building and pairing with the
spring, are chilled and frozen in their nests, and the blighted groves
are silent as death. The old man had prepared a great feast in his
heart, and would welcome to it the fairest hopes, and now dark forms
crowded in, and turned everything to confusion, and took away the only
treasure, which he had laid up in his whole life; that gave him a blow,
from which he could not recover. Take away a miser's treasure, which he
has been scraping together for sixty years, and you take his life with
it, and that is but a treasure which rust can devour; what is it to an
honest name?
So the Frau Pastorin's only comfort lay in the last words of Franz: he
could wait, and he should come again.