The next morning, when Zachary Braesig arose, he took hold of his head
with both hands, saying:
"Karl, you may congratulate yourself that I haven't a worse headache
than I really have: for who could play assessor to-day? If I had
followed Grammelin's cursed punch receipt I should have a whole nest of
sparrows in my head this morning. But I made it after my own fashion."
"Well, were you very jolly?" asked Habermann.
"Oh, yes! the younger part of the company were quite lively; as for me,
I kept myself very quiet. I sat by the town-musician, David Berger,
and, by the way, Karl! what an amount that fellow can stand! I thought
to myself, that belongs to his business; but one glass after another,
incessantly! and at last he became what they call sentimental, he
embraced me, and, with tears in his eyes, told me how little he could
earn in these political times, till Herr Suessmann, who is Kurz's
shopman, and I really pitied him. And Herr Suessmann proposed to the
company that we should get up a fraternity ball, for David Berger's
benefit; that is, a political one, where all ranks, nobility, and
ritter-proprietors, and paechters and burghers and their wives and
children, should come together, and shake hands, and dance with, and,
for aught I know, kiss each other. And this indicium was resolved upon,
and it is to be a week from Sunday. And Herr Suessmann drew up a
subscription paper, and I subscribed for you and me and the Frau
Pastorin and Louise."
"Braesig, I beg of you, what would the Frau Pastorin and Louise do at a
ball, or I, either?"
"But you must, for it is a noble cause."
"And you couldn't go either, Zachary, for a week from Friday is
Mining's wedding day, and the next Sunday the going to church, and
what would my sister say if you were absent, and at your stupid
Reform-ball?"
"That alters the matter, we must have it put off, and so adieu, Karl, I
will go at once to Herr Suessmann, and see about it, and then I must go
to the Rathhaus, you know, to sit for four groschen an hour."
He went directly to Kurz's shop, but Herr Suessmann was not there, Kurz
himself was running about, opening the drawers and looking in, and then
shutting them again.
"Good morning, Kurz, where is your young Herr?"
"I have no young Herr; I am Herr[12] myself."
"Kurz, take care of your words, we live in democratic times, since----"
"Ah, what? Here? Take care! I despise the whole democracy, when my
shopman goes out drinking punch over night, and cannot get up in the
morning; and old people should be ashamed----"
"Hold, Kurz, you are beginning again with your flatteries, like last
Sunday, but I cannot allow it at present, on account of my situation at
the court. And adieu, Kurz! But I am sorry for you, for you have caught
the inflorentia, you should go to bed, there is something in your
bones, and if you will feel under your gaiters, you will find you are
beginning to get the rheumatism. But adieu, Kurz!"
He went off, but Kurz raved about his shop, and stormed at the whole
world, until his wife, as soon as the shopman was out of bed, got him
into bed, and put him under arrest for the time.
After this little interview, Braesig went to the Rathhaus, and earned
there without any further trouble, and in all quiet, five times four
groschen, for the sitting lasted five hours. When he came home they had
finished dinner, and as the table was spread again, expressly for him,
the Frau Pastorin made some pointed remarks about irregularity in one's
habits of life, and coming home at two o'clock in the morning, and
sitting down to dinner at two o'clock in the afternoon; and Uncle
Braesig sat there, and grinned, looking very well contented with
himself, as if he would say, "Ah, if you knew what hard work I have
been doing, and in what place I went through with it, you would stroke
me and pet me, you would kiss me, and do more than you have ever done
for me;" and when he rose from the table, he said, solemnly, "Frau
Pastorin, it will all come to light, as the Herr Burgomeister says,"
and he nodded to Habermann, "Bonus! as the Herr President Rein says,"
and going up to Louise, he put his arms round her and kissed her, and
said, "Louise, get me the finest sheet of writing paper that you can
find, for I want to pack up a little--well, I will say indicium,--so
that it may not be injured, for it is to go a long way."
And as he went out with the sheet in his hand, he turned round again to
remark:
"Karl, as I said before, what can be done shall be done."
And he came back once more to say: "Frau Pastorin, I shall come home to
supper to-night."
He went to the post-office. The postmaster was at home, he was always
at home; for a hundred and fifty thalers salary, he had imprisoned
himself for life, not in a room, no, in a bird-cage, which he called
his "comptoir," and when he had no postal business, he sat there and
played the flute, and sung, like the finest canary-bird. He was engaged
in this agreeable business, when Braesig entered:
"Good-day, Herr Postmaster. You are a man of honor, therefore I wish to
ask your assistance in a delicate matter. Of course, it isn't necessary
for you to know the thing itself, that must remain a secret, and what I
tell you must also remain a secret. I am going to write to Paris."
"To Paris? What the devil are you writing to Paris for?"
"To Paris," said Braesig, drawing himself up.
"What in the world!" said the postmaster, "one of you inspectors gets a
letter from Paris, and the other will send one. Well, we will see how
much it costs." He turned his books over, and said at last, "I can't
find it here, I will reckon it up; it cannot be done under sixteen
groschen."
"No matter, I have earned twenty groschen this morning, at the court."
"Whom is the letter for?"
"The young Herr Franz von Rambow."
"Do you know his address, where he lives?"
"Why, in Paris."
"But Paris is a great city. You must know the street, and the number of
the house."
"God bless me!" said Braesig, "all that! I don't know it."
"Ask Habermann."
"That is just the thing, he mustn't know of it."
"Well, I know no other way, then, than for you to write your letter,
and enclose it to the Mecklenburg ambassador, Dr. Urtlingen, he may be
able to find him."
"He must," said Braesig, "for the business is of great importance, and
that is what he gets his salary for. But what I was going to say, will
you allow me to write the letter here? Because it must be kept a secret
from Habermann."
"Oh, yes," said the postmaster, "come right in here, before my wife
sees you, for, though it is the regular room for passengers, my wife
will allow no one under a count to go in there. And you must let
yourself be locked in."
Braesig had no objections to that, and so he sat there, from three
o'clock in the afternoon, until it grew dark, and wrote his letter; the
postmaster fluted and sung, in his bird-cage; he wrote; the Frau
Postmaster came and rattled the door, she wanted to get into her
sanctum, and scolded because the key was gone; the Herr Postmaster had
it in his pocket, and fluted and sung; Braesig wrote his letter. Finally
he finished it; he read it over, and we can look over his shoulder.
Here it is.
"Highly well-born young Herr von Rambow:
"A very remarkable thing has happened here, since Kurz the merchant had
his manure carted on to baker Wredow's field, who is his rival in
respect to the stadtbullen. Habermann found a piece of black waxed
cloth there, with the Rambow coat of arms on it, which was a great
relief to him, on account of the suspicion about the theft of the
louis-d'ors, in the year '45, and the Herr Burgomeister also says that
it is an indicium. The Herr Burgomeister has made me assessor at the
court; there is a little something to be earned in that way, but it is
very hard for me, being an old farmer, and accustomed to exercise, and
also on account of the gout; it is not much trouble to be sure, but one
gets sleepy in the long sittings. But the good of it is that I can know
all about the business, which Habermann must know nothing about,
because the Herr Burgomeister has forbidden it. Since you are in Paris,
and not in Rahnstadt, I can talk with you freely, as a friend, about
the business, and the business is this: the weaver, he lies, that he
has no more intercourse with his wife, and the Herr Burgomeister says
that is another indicium. We have a great many indiciums already. The
principal business is still to come, however, namely, Kaehlertsch.
Kaehlertsch is positively determined to marry the weaver, and is of the
opinion that the weaver will not have her, because his divorced wife
wants him to marry her again. This has caused bad feelings in
Kaehlertsch,--what is called jealousy,--and she has come out with a lot
of new indiciums, as the Herr Burgomeister says, very important and
elevant, or, as I express myself in German, nearly connected with the
matter. But the Herr Burgomeister says, one must be very careful, for
the women-folks are spiteful when they are jealous, and tell lies
sometimes. Meanwhile her lies have proved themselves, since she has
come out with the whole truth, that the weaver was always getting
Danish double louis-d'ors, as also the butcher Kraenger testified, in
two compertinent cases. And while the weaver was before the court,
telling us new lies and new indiciums, they searched the weaver's
house, with Hoppner at the head, and found nine Danish double
louis-d'ors, in his cupboard, in a secret place. Which he tried to
contend against, later, but did not succeed. She, the weaver's wife,
who is the worst of the lot, was also caught, this morning, since they
found, in searching her house, a snuff-box, which had belonged to the
blessed Herr Pastor himself, and was kept by the Pastor's family like a
relic, in a glass case, for which shameful deed she has been furnished
with free lodgings. Kaehlertsch has also been taken up, since in her
wickedness she has belied the court, the Herr Burgomeister, and myself,
as assessor. They all lie, till they are black in the face, but what
good does that do them? The Herr Burgomeister says he is morally
persuaded that they have done it, and it must come out, and it will
come out. What a triumph it will be for my Karl Habermann, when he
stands in his old age, like an angel of innocence tried in the fire,
and goes about among the people, with his white hair, in the white
robes of innocence. They must be as ashamed as drowned poodles for all
they have done to him, I mean--to speak with respect--Pomuchelskopp and
the Pumpelhagener, who have fallen out with each other, because Zamwell
has sued the other, of which I will say nothing more, since I told
Pomuchelskopp my opinion of him at the Reformverein, and your Herr
Cousin of Pumpelhagen has given me the cold shoulder. He is going on in
a bad way, for he is dreadfully disturbed because Moses has given him
notice for the money on St. John's day, and he has no money and no
grain, and how can they live? He is an utterly incapable man. You must
never, while I live, let Habermann know of this letter; because it is a
secret between us. But I thought it would be interesting for you to
know who the real rascals were, and that Karl Habermann,--thank
God!--is not among them. He is very much cheered up by these
occurrences, and strikes out with his heels, like a young colt, when
the saddle is taken off. I think this is an encouraging sign for the
future. As for news of your old acquaintances in the region, I can only
tell you that, next week Friday, Mining and Rudolph expect to be united
in marriage. Frau Nuessler, whom you will remember as a very beautiful
young woman, is still--no need to say--very handsome, but has grown a
little stouter; Jochen also is very well, and is training up, for his
future establishment, a new crown prince. Your Herr Colleague, of old
times, is now the Totum at Pumpelhagen; Habermann says he will yet
do well; I say he is a greyhound, who goes among people with his
fire-arms, on account of which he has put Frau Nuessler and me formally
under the ban. We have a Reform at present in Rahnstadt; the young
Pastor Gottlieb preached against it, but the young Frau Pastorin knows
how to manage him. Rector Baldrian brought the tailoresses, and a
certain Platow or Patow or some such person, into the Reform; but Kurz
has been repeatedly turned out; his four horses have the inflorentia;
it began with his old saddle-horse, and it will end with himself, for
he has already got the rheumatism. The old Frau Pastorin Behrends is
still our honored hostess, also with eating and drinking, for Habermann
and I lodge and sleep, and take our daily meals with her; she, as well
as Habermann, would send greetings to you, but they cannot, for they
know nothing about it. But we often speak about you, since you are
always like an ever-present picture before our eyes. I cannot think of
more to tell at present,--but one thing occurs to me. Pomuchelskopp got
himself voted into the Reformverein; the master carpenter Shultz is a
brave man, he stood by me, at that time. Krischan Daesel has been sent
away by your Herr Cousin, and there is no definite trace of Regel; but
Louise Habermann is--thank God!--very well indeed.
"In the hope that my humble writing may not be disagreeable or
inconvenient, I have the honor to subscribe myself, with the deepest
reverence, and greeting you from the heart as an old friend,
"Your most obedient humble servant,
"Zachary Braesig.
"_Immeriter Inspector, and temporary Assessor_.
"Rahnstadt, 13 May, 1848.
"Postscript.--Apropos! I write this letter in the Frau Postmaster's
sanctum, since the Herr Postmaster has locked me in expressly for the
purpose, and has sworn not to say a word. This is all because of the
secrecy, for Habermann and the Frau Pastorin and Louise know nothing
about it; Louise has given me this sheet of letter paper, it belonged
to her, and I believe it will be a little gratification to you, for I
remember my youthful days, when I had three sweethearts at once. She is
devoted, in love and sadness, to her old father, and for others she is
a precious pearl of the human race. If I receive an answer from you,
that you have no objections, I will write again about the rascals they
have caught. If you should be in our region again a week from Sunday, I
invite you to our fraternity ball; the seamstresses and tailoresses are
all to be invited.
"The Aforesaid."
When Braesig had finished this difficult piece of work, he rapped and
pounded on the door, and as the postmaster unlocked it and let him out,
he stood there, with the sweat dripping from his face.
"Bless me!" said the postmaster, "how you look! It is true, isn't it?
Unaccustomed labor is painful!"
With that, he took the letter from him, and put it in an envelope, and
directed it to the Herr Ton Rambow, and then enclosed it in another
envelope, to the address of the Mecklenburg ambassador in Paris. Braesig
paid his sixteen groschen, and the letter was now ready to start on its
journey, for the postman, who should take it, that moment stopped at
the door. And the postmaster sung, in his bower:
"Ein Leipziger Student hat jungst nach haus geschrieben,
Frau Mutter, sagen Sie, darf denn kein Maedchen lieben?"
And as Braesig went out of the door he sung:
"Custine schickt eine schnelle Post,
Die nach Paris reiten muss:
Die Sachsen and Preussen marschiren ins Feld,
Um Mainz zu bombardiren,
Und wenn ich keinen Succurs bekomm,
Denn muss ich capituliren."
"You may capituliren, as much as you please, for all me; only hold your
tongue, as you have promised," said our old friend, and he went home,
not only with the agreeable feeling that he had done a good action, but
also with the equally agreeable feeling that he had accomplished a
difficult task very skilfully, since he considered it pure finesse, as
he said to himself, to have introduced Louise into the letter, so
delicately, so _praeter propter_ and so _circa_, that one must have keen
scent, to suspect anything.
Well, when one indulges such a delightful consciousness of his good and
skilful performances, and, so to say, warms himself at its blaze as at
a cosy fire, on a winter's evening, it must be doubly vexatious to be
driven out in the wind and rain, with all manner of scolding and
reproaches; and this happened to Braesig, when he entered the Frau
Pastorin's room, where she was sitting with the little assessor; Louise
was not there. Frau Pastorin was just trying to light a lamp, and the
matches would not catch, firstly, because Kurz did not supply them with
the best quality, and secondly, because Frau Pastorin--perhaps from
economy--had the habit of putting the broken matches, and those that
would not light, back into the box, so that such a match, in the course
of its short life, had the satisfaction of being tried at least twenty
times, which may have been very agreeable to the match, but was very
provoking to other people.
"Well, there you are!" cried the Frau Pastorin angrily, trying a match.
"There you are, at last,"--the second match. "You are running about the
town all day,"--another match; "but you go with blind eyes,"--two
matches at once,--"and with deaf ears!"--another match. "You always
know everything,"--a match--"and when anything happens, then you know
nothing,"--three matches together.
Braesig went up to the Frau Pastorin very politely and pleasantly,
and took the match-box from her hand, saying, "By your leave!"--a
match--"what do you mean by that?"--the second match. "Have I done
anything to harm you?"--the third match. "Kurz ought to be paid with
his own wares!"--two matches, "His things that ought to catch don't
catch, and what ought not to catch, catches,"--three matches. "The
confounded things have got the inflorentia!" and with that he threw the
whole box on the table, pulled his own match-safe out of his pocket,
and struck a light.
"Braesig," said the Frau Pastorin, putting all the tried matches
carefully into the box, "I am very much vexed with you. I am not
inquisitive, but, when anything happens that concerns Habermann and
Louise, I am certainly the nearest, and ought to know it. Why must our
little Anna first come out with what you ought to have told me long
ago, for you knew it. I see it in your face, you knew it."
"How so?" asked Braesig, and was going to pretend great ignorance; but
the Frau Pastorin was too much provoked with him, for she thought he
had treated her shamefully, and she said:
"You need not pretend; I know that you know everything, and you tell me
nothing!" and now she began to tap the old man, and the little assessor
also bored away at the Herr Assessor; finer and finer the two women
drew their threads, and got everything out of Braesig that he knew, for
silence was by no means a special gift of his, and when he at last
cried out in sheer despair: "So, now I know nothing more," then the
little round Frau Pastorin placed herself before him, saying, "Braesig,
I know you, I see it in your face, you know something more. Out with
it! What else do you know?"
"Frau Pastorin, it is a private affair."
"That is all the same; out with it!"
And Braesig shoved about in his chair and looked right and left, but
there was no help for it, he must surrender, and he said finally, "I
have written about it to Herr Franz von Rambow, at Paris; but Karl
Habermann must never know it."
"To Paris!" cried the Frau Pastorin, putting her hands on her sides,
"to the young Herr von Rambow! What have you written to him? You have
written something about Louise, I see it in your face! Yes, you have
written something, and what I would hardly dream of, you have done!"
She rang the bell violently: "Fika, run to the post-office, the Herr
Postmaster shall give you back, immediately, the letter that Herr
Braesig has written to Paris."
Tereng-tereng-tereng-tentereng! blew the postillion, and the post with
Braesig's letter drove by, with flourish of trumpets, before the Frau
Pastorin's nose, express for Paris, and the Frau Pastorin in, great
vexation, sank back in her sofa-corner, sent Fika back to the kitchen,
and--alas! that we should have to confess it--she was almost ready to
murmur against providence, that, perhaps for the first time, the
Rahnstadt post had started at the right moment, to take Braesig's stupid
letter to Paris.
Braesig declared, most solemnly, that he had managed the business with
the greatest delicacy, so that there was not the least indicium to be
perceived.
"Did you send greeting from her?" asked the Frau Pastorin.
"No," said Braesig, "I only said she was very well."
"Have you written nothing else about her?"
"I only wrote that the sheet of paper belonged to her, and that she was
a precious pearl of the human race."
"So she is," interposed the Frau Pastorin.
"And then I closed in a very friendly way, by inviting the young Herr
to our fraternity ball."
"That was foolish," cried the Frau Pastorin, "he will notice that, he
will think you have the intention to bring him and Louise together
again."
"Frau Pastorin," said Braesig, placing himself before her, "with all
respect for your words, _is_ it foolish and wicked, if one has the
intention of bringing two people together again, who have been
separated by the wickedness and meanness of other people? I had this
intention, and therefore I wrote that letter; Habermann could not have
done it; for why? He is her father, and it would not have been fitting.
You could not have done it; for why? Because they have called you
already, here in Rahnstadt, all sorts of scandalous names. It is
nothing to me, however, if people do call me an old go-between; I don't
trouble myself about it; I will fetch and carry between here and Paris,
and if I am only considered in Paris to be an honest man and a faithful
friend to Karl Habermann and Louise, it is nothing to me if all
Rahnstadt calls me an old matchmaker."
"Yes, Frau Pastorin, yes!" cried the little assessor, falling upon the
Frau Pastorin's neck, "the Herr Inspector is right. Who cares for the
gossips of Rahnstadt? What matters the stupid judgment of the world, if
two people can be made happy? Franz must come, and Louise must be
happy," and in her delight she ran up to Braesig, and put her arms round
his neck, and kissed him, right on his mouth. "You are a dear, old
Uncle Braesig!"
And Braesig returned the kiss, and said, "Yes, you little
clavier-mamsell, you dear little lark, you! You ought to try your
happiness also, in such relations. But hold! We mustn't cackle too
soon, the business is not settled yet, the rascals are not yet
convicted, and, if I know Karl Habermann, he must be perfectly cleared
in that affair, before he will consent to such an arrangement, and
therefore I have said nothing about the matter, that he and Louise
might not be disturbed. And it is a great blessing that Kurz has the
inflorentia, for he could never have held his tongue so long
otherwise."
"Braesig," said the Frau Pastorin, "taking it all together, I believe
you have done right."
"Haven't I, Frau Pastorin? And you were only vexed, because you didn't
write first. But you shall have the honor of writing to the young Herr,
when it is all settled."
Three days after this interview, Braesig came home, and met the Frau
Pastorin in the hall. Her right hand was in a bandage, for she had just
sprained it, falling down the cellar-stairs.
"Frau Pastorin," said he, with great earnestness and expression, "I
shall come down again immediately, and have something to tell you."
With that, he went up-stairs to Habermann. He said neither "Good day"
nor anything else, as he entered the room, but, looking very solemn,
went through into the bedroom. There he poured out a glass of water,
and returned with it to Habermann.
"Here, Karl, drink!"
"What? Why should I drink?"
"Because it is good for you. What you will need afterward, will not
hurt you before."
"Braesig, what ails you?" cried Habermann, pushing away the water; but
he noticed that something unusual was coming.
"Well, Karl, if you won't take it, you won't; but collect yourself,
collect yourself quickly;" and he walked up and down, while Habermann
followed him with his eyes, and turned pale, as he felt that this
moment was to influence his destiny.
"Karl," said Braesig, standing before him, "have you collected
yourself?"
He had really done so; he stood up and exclaimed:
"Braesig, say what you have to say! What I have borne so long, I can
bear yet longer, if need be."
"That is not my meaning," said Braesig. "It is all out, the rascals are
convicted, and we have the money; not all, but some of it."
The old man had dreamed what it would be to be delivered from his
troubles, for a ray of hope had gleamed upon his horizon; but when the
sun was fairly risen upon this new day, and shone brightly in his face,
his eyes were blinded by the sudden splendor, and a thousand suns
floated around him.
"Braesig! Braesig! My honest name! My child's happiness!" and he sank
back in his chair, and Braesig held him the glass of water, and the old
man drank, and recovered himself a little, and grasped Braesig, who
stood before him, about the knees: "Zachary, you have never in your
life deceived me!"
"No, Karl, it is the pure truth, and it stands in the protocol, and the
rascals will be sent to Dreiberg, the Herr Burgomeister says; but first
to Buetzow, to the criminal court."
"Braesig," said Habermann, and he stood up, and went into his sleeping
room, "leave me alone, and say nothing to Louise! Yes, tell her to come
up."
"Yes, Karl," said Braesig, walking to the window, and looking out, and
wiping the tears from his eyes, and as he went through the door he saw
his Karl, in the bedroom, upon his knees.
Louise went to her father, Braesig told her nothing; but to the Frau
Pastorin he was not so silent.
"Bless me," said the little Frau, "now Louise has gone away, and
Habermann does not come, and you, Braesig, don't come at the right time,
the dinner will be cold, and we have such nice fish. What were you
going to tell me, Braesig?"
"Oh, nothing much," said Uncle Braesig, looking as if the rascals had
infected him with all sorts of roguery, and he must exercise it now
upon the Frau Pastorin, because she had abused him so about the letter;
"only that Habermann and Louise are not coming to dinner. But we two
can begin."
"Eh, Braesig, why are they not coming?"
"Well, because of the apron."
"The apron?"
"Yes, because it was wet."
"Whose apron was wet?"
"Why, Frau Kaehlert's. But we will eat our dinner, the fish will get
cold."
"Not a morsel!" cried the Frau Pastorin, and put a couple of plates
over the fish, and over those a napkin, and over that her plump hands,
and looked so wildly at Braesig with her round eyes, that he could no
longer persist in his _role_, but burst out: "It is all out, Frau
Pastorin, and they are convicted, and we have most of the money again."
"And do you tell me that now, first?" cried the little Frau, and jumped
up from the table, and was running up to Habermann. Braesig would not
allow that, and, by promising to tell her everything, brought her back
to the sofa.
"Frau Pastorin," said he, "the chief thing that is, the principal
indicium, came out through Kaehlertsch, that is to say, not properly, of
her own accord, but through her wicked jealousy, which is a dreadfully
powerful feeling in many women, and produces the most terrible
consequences. I don't mean you, by that, I only mean Kaehlertsch. You
see the woman had made up her mind to marry the weaver, and the weaver
would'nt have her. Now, she is rightly of the opinion that the weaver's
divorced wife wishes to marry him again, herself, and she lies
in wait for them, and so it happened once that her apron--I mean
Kaehlertsch's--was wet, and she was going to dry it on the garden fence.
While she was there, half concealed behind the fence, she saw the
weaver and his divorced wife, holding a _rendezvous_,--well, you know
what that is, Frau Pastorin----"
"Braesig, I tell you----"
"Quiet, Frau Pastorin! and they were not sitting in a ditch, they were
standing among the pole-beans, so that the woman must have got into the
garden from over the fence, in the rear, since she had not gone through
the house. Kaehlertsch in her wicked jealousy, called Frau Kraeuger, the
butcher's wife, to come and look also, and they two watched the other
two, till they disappeared among the beans, and after a little the
woman got over the fence, and the weaver busied himself in the garden,
whereupon the two women quietly retired. So far we had got, and this
was true, for the butcher's wife swore to it.
"Then the Herr Burgomeister says, if Kaehlertsch would only speak out,
we might learn more. Then I say, 'Herr Burgomeister, woman's jealousy!'
then he says, 'But how?' Then I say, 'Herr Burgomeister, I knew
something about it, when I had three sweethearts at once,--jealousy is
a terrible passion, and it knows neither mercy nor pity. Let me try
her.' and when Kaehlertsch came again I said, in an off-hand way, 'Well,
if the weaver had not married any body else, meantime, I suppose he
could marry his divorced wife again.' And the Herr Burgomeister took my
hint, and said yes, if he wanted to, the clerical consistory could give
him a desperation. You see, that put the woman, herself into a
desperation, and she burst out, if it was coming to that, she would
tell something, the weaver had brought money with him out of the
garden, for before that he had had no money in his cupboard, but
afterwards she had looked, and had found money there, several double
louis-d'ors. You see, she had trapped herself, showing that she had
been, with a night-key, into other people's cupboards. The Herr
Burgomeister had her arrested and put in prison, so we now had the
three rogues fast.
"When the weaver came in again, and lied again, as to how he had come
by the money, and lied to the very face of the butcher's wife, that he
had not been with his wife in the garden, you see, the butcher's wife
got angry too, and said she had seen the calves of her legs, as she was
climbing over the fence,--don't take it amiss, Frau Pastorin,--but she
said so. And then the weaver was sentenced to have ten on his jacket,
for our laws,--thank God!--still have penalties for infamous lying, and
the Herr Burgomeister talked to him very solemnly, and told him he was
a master weaver, and he should be degraded from his trade; but would he
confess? not a bit of it. But so soon as he had had his first three on
the jacket, he fell on his knees,--which was a dreadful sight to me, so
that I turned away,--and said he would confess everything, and he did
so, since he had not stolen it himself, but his wife. The woman had
stolen the money from the day-laborer, Regel, taking the black packet
from his waistcoat pocket, when he was intoxicated, and hid it in the
woods, under the moss and bushes, and there it had lain for two years,
and whenever she went to get wood, she would take out a couple of
pieces, which she would get changed by the help of some of the old Jew
women,--she has been to Kurz, also. And then, perhaps a year and a half
ago, she met the weaver, and asked him if he would not marry her again,
for she was no longer poor, she had something now, and she gave him a
double louis-d'or; he would'nt listen to her then, however, because at
that time he was in love with Kaehlertsch,--I beg you, Frau Pastorin,
with Kaehlertsch! They might offer me Kaehlertsch on a silver salver, I
should never fall in love with her. But he took the louis-d'or, and she
teased him again, and made him other presents, till at last his
inclination began to return to her, and he wanted nothing more to do
with Kaehlertsch. And she showed him all her treasure, and they changed
it about, now here and now there, to keep it concealed, and finally,
this spring, they locked it up in a box, and he threw the black cloth
into the butcher's compost heap, and they buried the treasure in the
garden. And we went there with the weaver, and found fourteen hundred
thalers, among the potatoes. Just think of it--fourteen hundred thalers
among the potatoes! They had spent the rest of it."
"Good heavens!" cried the Frau Pastorin, "how clever you and the Herr
Burgomeister must have been, to get so much out of them."
"So we are, Frau Pastorin," said Uncle Braesig, quietly.
"But the woman?" cried the little Frau. "She was the nearest to it."
"Yes, Frau Pastorin, that was an exciting moment, for the Herr
Burgomeister had concealed the indicium of the box and the gold, under
his every-day hat, and when the weaver's wife was confronted with her
husband, and once more admonished to tell the truth, and persisted in
lying, then the Herr Burgomeister lifted his hat, and said, 'It is no
matter. We have the money already.' You see, when she saw the box, she
flew at the weaver, like a fury, and in a moment she had torn his whole
face, just with her nails, and screamed, 'Cursed wretch! I would have
made him happy, and he has made me unhappy!' Frau Pastorin, love is
madder than jealousy. Kaehlertsch never would have done that! But, Frau
Pastorin, our fish must be quite cold."
"Ah, Braesig, how can you think of anything like that. But I must go to
Habermann, I must tell him--"
"That you are very glad he is so triumphantly cleared." said Braesig,
drawing her down on the sofa again; "so you shall, but not yet. For,
you see, I believe Habermann has something to tell the Lord, and Louise
will help him, and that is right too, but she is enough; for, Frau
Pastorin,--as Pastorin you should know,--our Lord is a jealous God, and
when He communes with a thankful soul he does not suffer that others
should approach, but draws back, and, where the presence of God has
shone, human sympathy must wait till afterwards."
The little Frau Pastorin looked at him in astonishment, and finally
broke out:
"God bless you, Braesig! I always called you an old heathen; but you are
a Christian, after all!"
"I don't know, Frau Pastorin, I don't know what I am. But I know that
the little I have done, in this matter, I have not accomplished as a
Christian, but as assessor at the criminal court. But Frau Pastorin,
our fish is spoiled by this time, and I don't feel at all hungry. The
house seems too narrow for me,--adieu, Frau Pastorin, I must go out in
the fresh air a little while."