Moses had become a very old man, but his health was still quite good,
only that he was rather lame, and sleep would not come at his call; so
he used to sit up late into the night, in his arm-chair, with a cushion
under his head, hours after his Bluemchen was asleep, and think over his
old business affairs; with new ones he would have nothing to do. David
lay on the sofa, and talked, or slept, as he felt inclined; but I must
do David the justice to say he was not an exception to the general rule
of his fellow-believers, he took good care of his old father, and this
Jewish fashion is one which many Christians would do well to follow.
This evening they were chatting together.
"David," said the old man, "what did I tell you? You should not
entangle yourself with Pomuffelskopp."
"Well? If I have entangled myself, I am well paid for it."
"You have strewed dust on your head, you have eaten filth."
"Are louis-d'ors filth?"
"Pomuffelskopp's are."
"Father, if you were willing, we could do a great business;
Pomuffelskopp is going to sell Gurlitz."
"Why?"
"Well, he wants to sell."
"I will tell you, David, because he isn't sure of his day-laborers,
that they won't set fire to his barns, or knock him on the head. I will
tell you further: I shall not do the business, nor will you; but your
friend the notary will do it, he is too shrewd for you, and you are too
young."
"Father, I----"
"Hush, David! I will tell you something more; you want to be rich, rich
all at once. See, there is a pitcher with a narrow neck, half full of
louis-d'ors, you reach in, take up a handful, and cannot get it out,
you reach in and take one, and get it out easily, and so on, again and
again, till you have them all."
"Have I taken too large a handful?"
"Hush, David, I have not done yet. You see two people, one throws a
louis-d'or into clean water, and the other throws a handful into the
gutter; you go into the cold water and get the louis-d'or, and it is
bright and clean; you go into the gutter and get out the whole handful,
and people turn away from you, for you are a stench in their nostrils.
Pomuffelskopp has thrown his louis-d'ors into the gutter."
"Well, they don't smell of it."
"If men do not smell them, they smell to heaven; but men do, that is to
say, honest men; but they are not offensive to Pomuffelskopp and the
notary, their odor is like myrrh and frankincense."
David was going to say something, when there was a rap at the
house-door. "What is that?" asked David.
The old man was silent; then there came a louder rap.
"David, go and open the door!"
"What? at this time of night?"
"David, open it! When I was young, and went about with my pack, I often
knocked at the door, and the door was opened to me, and now I am old,
and shall soon stand before a door and knock, and the God of Abraham
will say, 'Let him in, it is a man!' This is a man, also. Open the
door, David!"
David obeyed, and Habermann entered.
"Wonder of wonders!" cried the old man, "the inspector!"
"Yes, Moses, you must not take it ill. I could not help it, I must
speak with you confidentially about a matter of business."
"Go out, David!"
David made a sour face, but went.
"It isn't of much use," said Moses, "he will stand at the door, and
listen."
"Never mind, Moses, I cannot say to you what I would here. Can you not
come with me to my house?"
"Habermann, I am an old man."
"Yes, indeed, I know it; but the air is mild, the moon is risen; I will
take you by the arm; yes, Moses, I will carry you, if you say so."
"Well, what is it, then?"
"Moses, I cannot tell you here; you must hear with your own ears, and
see with your own eyes. You can do a good work."
"Habermann, you are an honest man, you have always been a friend to me,
you will do what is right. Call David."
Habermann opened the door; to be sure, there he stood:
"Herr Inspector, you must not take my father out tonight, he is an old
man."
"David!" cried the old man, "bring me my fur boots!"
"Father! you mustn't go! I will call mother."
"Call mother, if you want to, I shall go."
"What are you going to do?"
"Transact important business."
"Then I will go too."
"David, you are too young; bring me the boots."
There was no help for it, David must bring them and put them on;
Habermann took the old man firmly by the arm, Moses took his usual grip
in his left coat-pocket, on account of the lacking suspender, and,
leaning on Habermann's arm, hobbled slowly over to the Frau Pastorin's
house.
As Habermann and old Moses crossed the Frau Pastorin's threshold, they
made something of a noise, for Moses stumbled at the door, and came
near falling. Frau Pastorin, of course, heard the commotion, as did the
whole company with her; "Ah, there comes Habermann with poor Mining,"
said she, and running to the door put out her head; but when she
expected to see Mining, though perhaps with a swelled cheek, there
stood old Moses in his dressing-gown, and fur boots, with his old face
full of wrinkles, and looking at her with his great black eyes:
"Good evening, Frau Pastorin!"
The little Frau Pastorin started back, almost to the middle of the
room; "Preserve us!" cried she, "Habermann is carrying on all sorts of
magic and unchristian preformances; now he is bringing his old Jew into
the house, at midnight; is this on account of Mining's toothache?"
Frau Nuesssler felt as if she were standing in her kitchen, dressing
fish, and had just taken hold of a great pike, and the creature had
snapped at her thumb, and was pressing his teeth deeper and deeper into
her flesh, and she must keep still, else he would tear open her whole
thumb. What had possessed Frau Nuessler to tell a story, and such a
story, which might come out any moment!
"Frau Pastorin," said Braesig, "as for Moses, that was only an
appearance; it could not have been himself, for I was there yesterday,
and he told, me expressly, he was not able to go out any longer."
"Ah!" interposed Louise, "father has certainly some important business
with the old man, and aunt knows about it, and so she has told us that
story about Mining. What, should father be doing with such nonsense?"
The pike pressed his teeth deeper into Frau Nuessler's flesh; but she
set her own teeth together, and held out.
"Eh, see!" cried she, "Louise, you are dreadfully clever! Clever
children are a blessing for their parents, but"--here she suddenly
pulled her thumb from the pike's teeth;--"I wish you had been a good
deal more stupid. I will tell you; Mining isn't there, it is the
gracious Frau from Pumpelhagen, who has some business to attend to with
Karl and Moses."
The little Frau Pastorin was quite vexed, partly because she was not
sooner informed, for, in her own house, she was surely the nearest,
partly because, after long years, she had, for the first time,
discovered that her good neighbour Frau Nuessler was capable of the most
horrible, unchristian lying.
"And that story was all a lie then?" she inquired.
"Yes, Frau Pastorin," said Frau Nuessler, looking like one of the
condemned.
"Frau Nuessler," said the Frau Pastorin, and it seemed as if an
invisible hand had dropped upon her shoulders the little black mantle
of her sainted pastor, "lying is a horrible, unchristian vice."
"I know it, Frau Pastorin; I never lied for myself, in my life. When I
tell lies, it is only for the benefit of other people. I thought it
would be too bad for the poor Frau, who is in such trouble, to be
plagued with questions, and since you all took her for Mining I merely
said yes, and made up a little story."
It seemed now as if the invisible hand had endowed the Frau Pastorin
with her blessed Pastor's bands also, and she began:
"Dear, you are in a dreadful state, you are lying at this very moment,
you think that is right which is wrong, you lie----"
"With your gracious permission, Frau Pastorin," interrupted Zachary
Braesig, taking the side of his old treasure, "I must interrupt your
discourse; I am quite of Frau Nuessler's opinion. Do you see, last week
the Frau Syndic called to me, and asked me, very kindly, 'Herr
Inspector, is it true that the Frau Pastorin once held a rendezvous in
a ditch----'"
"Braesig!" screamed the little Frau Pastorin, and mantle and bands were
gone directly.
"Don't be troubled!" said Uncle Braesig, throwing a glance at Louise, "I
can be discreet, upon occasion. 'No,' I said to the Frau Syndic, 'it is
an abominable lie.' And so I told a lie for you, Frau Pastorin, and, if
I must be roasted in hell for it, I beg that you will look down from
heaven sometimes and afford me a little relief."
The Frau Pastorin had something to say, but Habermann looked in at the
door: "Oh, Braesig, come here a moment!"
"Habermann----" began the little Frau.
"Frau Pastorin, I shall come back directly."
Braesig went.
On the other side of the hall they were as much excited, but in a
different way. When Habermann entered the room with Moses, the young
Frau rose from the sofa, with a pang in her heart, and Moses stood
astonished.
"The gracious Frau von Rambow," said Habermann, and, turning to the
lady, "This is my old friend Moses; but he is much fatigued from the
walk. You will excuse me, gracious Frau;" and he brought him to the
sofa, and laid him down, and took cushions and pillows and put them
under his head.
When the old man had recovered a little, Habermann asked, "Moses, do
you know the gracious Frau?"
"I have seen her riding past my house, I have also seen her walking
near Pumpelhagen; I greeted her, and she kindly returned the old Jew's
greeting."
"Moses, do you know that the Herr von Rambow is deeply in debt?"
"I know it."
"You have sued him."
"I know it."
"Moses, you must withdraw your suit; your money is safely invested."
"What do you call safe? I spoke to you about it last spring. In such
times as these property is not safe, a man is safer; but Herr von
Rambow is not a man whom I can trust, he is a bad manager, he is a fool
about horses, he is a----"
"Hold! Remember his wife is here."
"Well, I remember."
Frida was suffering tortures. They were silent for awhile; then
Habermann began again:
"If there was a prospect that the estate could be rented----"
"Who would rent in such times?" said Moses.
"Or the Herr von Rambow would agree to engage a regular inspector, and
leave the management to him----"
"Habermann," interrupted Moses, "you are an old man, and you are a
shrewd man. You know the world, and you know the Herr von Rambow; did
you ever know a Herr who said, 'I will be master no longer, I will let
another be master?'"
Habermann was rather taken aback by this question, he looked
inquiringly at the young Frau, and Frida dropped her eyes, and said:
"I am afraid Herr Moses is right; my husband does not understand it."
Moses looked at her approvingly, and muttered to himself, "She is a
clever woman, she is an honest woman."
Habermann was perplexed; he sat in deep thought, and finally said:
"Well, Moses, if the Frau von Rambow, or I, or circumstances, should
influence the young Herr to consent to this plan, and if, for the
security of the creditors, he should give a promise to resign the
management, and engage a competent inspector, would you withdraw your
suit?"
"I would withdraw it for a year; well, say two years."
"Well, then you will leave your money in the estate; but there are
other debts which must be paid; there are Pomuchelskopp's eight
thousand thalers."
"I know it," said Moses to himself.
"Then there the debts owing to tradesmen and mechanics, which have not
been paid for a year; and the people's wages must be paid and repairs
attended to; it will take about six thousand thalers."
"I know it," said Moses.
"Then there is a note for thirteen thousand thalers, in Schwerin, which
must be paid immediately."
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Moses, "I did not know a word of it."
"Yes, and then," continued Habermann, without noticing this remark, "we
must have two or three thousand thalers over, to carry on the estate
properly."
"Let me go! It is a bad business, a very bad business!" cried Moses,
making a motion as if he would rise from the sofa.
"Hold on, Moses! I have not done yet."
"Let me go! Let me go! I am an old man, I cannot involve myself in such
a business," and with that he rose to his feet, and made preparations
to go.
"Hear me first, Moses! I do not ask you to lend the money,--it would be
about thirty-one thousand thalers,--there are other people, safe
people, who will lend it; you shall merely advance it until St. John's
day."
"God of Abraham! Advance in these times, in fourteen days, _thirty-one
thousand thalers_! And that for fools who involve themselves in a
business like that!"
"Well, Moses, just listen to me. Write down the names and the amounts
as I mention them. You know the Frau Pastorin? Write down the Frau
Pastorin for five thousand thalers."
"Well, I know her, she is a good woman, she helps the poor; but why
should I write?"
"Come, just write."
Moses took a pencil out of his pocket, moistened the point, and wrote:
"Well, there it is; five thousand thalers."
"You know Braesig, too?"
"Why shouldn't I know Braesig? Who does not know Braesig? He is a good
man, an entertaining man; always visited me when I was sick, tried to
make a democrat of me, wanted me to make speeches in the Reformverein,
but he is a good man."
"Put him down for six thousand thalers. You know my brother-in-law
Nuessler?"
"I have always bought his wool. He is a quiet man, and a good man,
smokes tobacco; but he isn't the man of the house, his wife is."
"Well, then put my sister down for thirteen thousand thalers."
"No, I'll not do it. She is a woman, she is a very cautious woman;
bargained with me for two groschen more the stone."
"Write it! My sister will tell you, herself, this very night. So! and
now write, for me, seven thousand thalers, and there are the thirty-one
thousand."
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Moses, "he will give his hard-earned money,
that he has laid up for his old age, and for his only child! And for
whom? For a young man who has tried to shoot him, who has defamed his
honest name, who has treated him like a dog!"
"That doesn't concern you, Moses, that is my affair. I----"
The young Frau had been sitting in torment, repressing the bitterest
feelings in her soul; but she could bear it no longer, she started up,
and running to Habermann laid her hands on his shoulders, crying, "No,
no! that must not be! Neither these good people, nor you, shall be
involved in our misfortunes. If we are to blame, we must suffer for it.
I will bear--oh, and Axel would much rather bear misfortune and
disgrace! but--but"--she broke out involuntarily--"the poor sisters!"
Habermann took hold of her gently, and replaced her in her chair,
whispering, "Control yourself! You have trusted the business in my
hands; I will bring it to a happy issue."
A flood of tears burst from Frida's eyes.
"Good heavens!" said Moses to himself, laying his pencil back in his
pocketbook, "Now she is going to be magnanimous, too. Do you call this
business? This is no business. And yet it is all honest! It makes the
old man cry, too," and he wiped the tears from his eyes, with the skirt
of his dressing-gown. "Well, we will see what the Jew can do."
Habermann had gone out and called Braesig, and told him, hastily, in the
hall, what was in the wind, and now he came in with him.
Braesig came in with rather a distracted expression on his face, at
which Habermann was secretly annoyed; he looked half as if he had
something to sell at the fair, and half as if he were going to make a
Christmas gift. He marched up to Moses, with his head in the air:
"Moses, what Habermann has put down for me, I will subscribe to,
Zachary Braesig; it is all the same to me, cash or bonds, but not before
St. Anthony's."
"Good," said Moses. "You are a safe man, Herr Inspector, I will advance
it."
Braesig went up to the gracious Frau, who had rested her arm on the
table and covered her eyes with her hand, as if the light hurt them,
made a deep bow, and inquired after her health, and when she had
answered quietly, he asked, "And how is the young Herr von Rambow?"
Frida shrank together, and Habermann, who had intended to call in the
others, one by one, saw that a diversion must be made, or Braesig, in
all innocence, would distress the young Frau with his questions and
remarks.
"Zachary," said he, "do me the favor to bring in the Frau Pastorin and
my sister; Louise may come, too."
"Very well, Karl," and presently he returned with the women.
Frau Pastorin went up directly to the young Frau, and pressed her to
her heart, and could not restrain herself from weeping bitterly. Louise
stood by, with the deepest, though silent, compassion in her heart.
"God of Abraham!" exclaimed Moses, "what a night is this! They want to
transact a business, and they cry over each other, and press each
other's hands, and hang about each other's necks, and are magnanimous
and affectionate, and keep an old man, like me, sitting up till
morning. Mamselle Habermann," he added aloud, "when you are done with
your tender feelings, perhaps you can get me a drop of wine; I am an
old man."
Louise ran and brought a bottle of wine and a glass, and Braesig said,
"Bring me a glass, too, Louise!" and had possibly the intention of
having a little frolic with Moses, for he sat down by him, and began to
touch glasses: "To your good health, Moses!"
But it wasn't successful, Moses did not seem disposed to respond, and
Habermann brought up his sister; Moses moistened his pencil, and wrote.
After Frau Nuessler came the Frau Pastorin; Moses wrote again, and
before the young Frau, who sat in the corner with Louise, knew what was
going on, it was all settled; and Moses stood up, saying:
"Shall I tell you some news? I will tell you: the thirty-one thousand
thalers are secured, and the people are all good; but it is no
business, your magnanimity has run away with you. Well, what will you
have? I am a Jew, it has run away with me too; I will advance the
money. But I am an old man, I am a cautious man. If the Herr von Rambow
will not employ an Inspector, and do as he ought, the business is
worthless, and I will have nothing to do with it. When they lay me in
the church-yard, under the fir-trees, where I have built an enclosure,
then people would say, 'Well, he built that enclosure for himself; what
is an enclosure of oaken-wood? Shortly before his death he got honest
people into trouble, only that he might make a speculation.' There is
Frau Nuessler, there is Frau Pastorin, there is Herr Habermann, and
there is also Herr Braesig. I have been a man of business, from my
youth, first with my pack, and then with my produce and wool, and
finally with my money, and as a man of business I will die; but a
cautious one. Come, Habermann, take hold of me, and help me home again!
Good-night, Frau Nuessler, my regards to Herr Jochen, he must come and
see me. Good-night, Herr Inspector Braesig, you must come and see me
too; but don't talk about the Reform any more, I am an old man.
Good-night, Mamselle Habermann, when you pass my house again, greet me
as kindly as you did last time. Good-night, Frau Pastorin, when you go
to bed, you can say I have had honest people in my house, tonight, the
old Jew, also, is an honest man." Then he went up to Frida:
"Good-night, gracious Frau, you have wept to-night, because you are not
used to it; but never fear, it will all come right; you have a new
friend, it is the old Jew; but the old Jew has shed tears over you, and
he will not forget it; he does not weep often now."
He turned away, and, saying "Good-night!" once more, without looking
round, went out with Habermann, Louise lighting them to the door. All
was silent in the room; each was busy with his own thoughts. The first
to recollect herself was Frau Nuessler; she called Krischan, who was
asleep in the hall, and made him bring around the carriage. Krischan
obeyed with unusual celerity, for, when Habermann returned from
convoying Moses home, the young Frau and his sister were already in the
carriage, and he had barely time to say a few friendly, hopeful words
to the young Frau, when Frau Nuessler said, "Good-night, Karl! She must
go back to her child. Krischan, to Pumpelhagen!" and they drove off.
Habermann was still standing in the street, looking after the carriage,
and was just turning to go into the house, when, another carriage came
slowly up the street, with a pair of gray horses shining before it, in
the moonlight. The old man stepped back, and stood in the doorway, his
daughter had left a candle for him, in the hall, and he stood there
like a gigantic shadow against the light. He waited to see who was
driving, so late or so early, through the silent streets; the carriage
came nearer, it stopped before the house.
"Take the reins!" cried a voice which seemed strangely familiar to him,
and a man on the front seat threw back the reins to the coachman, and
jumped down.
"Habermann! Habermann! Don't you know me?"
"Franz! Herr von Rambow!"
"What is going on here, that you are up so late? No misfortune?"
"No,--thank God!--no! I will tell you directly."
The young man threw his arms about the old man, and pressed him to his
heart, and kissed him, again and again, and it was no misfortune, it
was the purest happiness, and yet one might have supposed it was
misfortune, if he had seen the maiden who sat in the next room. The
color was all gone out of her cheeks, and her great eyes grew larger
and larger, staring at the door, and she pressed both hands against her
heart, and when she tried to rise, it seemed as if the earth trembled,
and thunder rolled above her, and the voice outside struck like,
lightning to her heart. She did not know, she could not make it clear
in this brief moment; but the garden, which she had planted years ago,
with quiet, modest flowers, with shady trees, where she had so often
watched the evening star, and on which the silent night had fallen,
stood suddenly revealed before her, in the lightning flashes, and when
these passed over, and the heart was bowed down, suddenly the sun
arose, with such blinding radiance, that she must turn away her eyes;
but yet she could not, for in her quiet garden wonder after wonder was
bursting into bloom in the sunlight; the modest violets changed into
red roses, shining like a bridal wreath, and the odor of the fragrant
blossoms changed into the song of nightingales calling to their mates.
And her hands sank down from her heart, and her heart beat evenly, and
full, and when he entered the door, holding Habermann's hand, she threw
herself on his breast, and the earth no longer trembled, and the
thunder no longer rolled, and no lightning flashes smote her; but light
was all around her, pure light! And they spoke to each other, they
talked much with each other: "Franz!" "Louise!" and no one understood
their language, and they all stood about her, and could not understand,
for it was long since they had heard the language, and yet they must
have had some perception of its meaning, for Uncle Braesig took pity on
the young people, who were flying away, above the earth, among the
clouds, and brought them back, with a shock, to terra firma.
"Frau Pastorin," said he, "when I had three sweethearts at once----"
"For shame, Braesig!" cried Frau Pastorin, through her tears of emotion.
"Frau Pastorin, you said the same thing, when I wrote, through Doctor
Urtlingen, to the young Herr von Rambow, at Paris; but I wasn't, at all
ashamed, and I am not ashamed to-day; I have never in my life done
anything to be ashamed of. For, you see, Frau Pastorin," and he placed
himself before her with great dignity, and blew his nose, but rather,
above it, as if something had got into his eyes; "you see, Frau
Pastorin, I have brought about a good many rendezvous lately; first in
the water-ditch----"
"Braesig!" cried the little Frau Pastorin.
"Be quiet, Frau Pastorin, I shall say nothing about it, and I will tell
lies for you, if it is necessary. Secondly, Gottlieb and Lining in the
cherry-tree; thirdly, Rudolph and Mining, also in the cherry-tree; but
you must not think it strange if a man has a certain feeling of pride,
at having brought about a rendezvous between Rahnstadt and Paris; and
that is what I have done."
"Yes," said Franz, coming down to the earth, "you have done that, and I
thank you heartily for your beautiful letter. It is here, I keep it
always by me."
"Hm!" said Uncle Braesig, "always by him! Very much obliged! Would you
have the kindness to tell me, quite sincerely, do you value the letter
so highly, on account of my style,--you know, Karl, I was always
ahead of you in style, at Pastor Behrend's,--or is it because the
letter-paper belonged to Louise?"
"For both reasons!" cried Franz, laughing heartily, "but chiefly
because of the good news contained in your letter. Yes," he added,
turning to Habermann, "now these torments, these self-torments, are
over, the last shadow of reason for our separation has vanished," and
he went up to Louise, and gave her a kiss; it was a very remarkable
kiss, it might have been divided by twelve, and each result have been
an entire kiss.
"Bless me!" said the Frau Pastorin, at last, "the morning is shining in
at the window."
"Yes, Frau Pastorin," said Braesig, "and you have been watching all
night, and you are an old lady, and not used to it; you should go to
bed."
"Braesig is right," said Habermann, "and you, Louise, go to bed, too!"
"Come, child," said the Frau Pastorin, "there will be another day
to-morrow, and a happy day, too," and she kissed her. "Now your happy
days are coming, and, in yours, I shall live mine over again." They
went out.
"Herr von Rambow," said Habermann.
"Why not Franz?" said the young man.
"Well, then, Franz, my dear son, you can sleep in my bed, up-stairs,
with Braesig, I----"
"I cannot sleep," interposed Franz.
"Karl," said Braesig, "I am not at all sleepy, either, my time for
sleeping and nightly rest is over." He went to the window, opened it,
and looked out at the weather: "Karl, it looks to me as if this morning
would be a good time for the perch to bite. I must go out, I shall get
too fidgety here; I will go fishing; in the Rexow firs, there
is a place under the trees, where there is a splendid perch. So,
good-morning, young Herr von Rambow, good-morning, Karl, entertain
yourself with your future son-in-law." With that, he went off.
"But how did it happen, dear father," asked Franz, "that I found you
all up so late? I started from Paris, immediately on receiving Braesig's
letter, travelled night and day, and arrived at my estate day before
yesterday. But there was so much to be attended to,--my inspector is
just leaving, he is going to be married,--that I could not leave, to
come hither, until about this time yesterday morning. I had sent
forward relays, however, and when I arrived,--well, I may as well
confess,--I wanted at least to see the house in which Louise was
sleeping. And here I found you all stirring."
"Ah," sighed Habermann, "it was a sad occasion. It was on account of
the young Herr von Rambow of Pumpelhagen, his wife was here herself.
She has suffered terribly, but there was no help for it; and even yet
everything is in suspense. Would God you had come half an hour sooner;
then I believe it could all have been settled." And he related what had
happened, first and last, and all with such sincere regret and such
cordial interest, that an earnest wish arose in Franz's heart; he must
help, also, in the matter, and the best of it was, he could help. He
had had the fortune to have trustworthy guardians, and honest and
capable inspectors; his property and estates had increased in value
under their hands, and, more recently, under his own, for he had not
made it a ladder, on which to descend to abysses of misfortune and
ruin, and his good sense had kept him from folly. Now he could render a
thank-offering for his happiness, for he had not only the will but the
ability to do good.
The two friends talked of many things, and what seemed good to the one
was approved by the other; they would both help, and it was settled
that Franz should have an interview with Moses; but, in spite of all
their sincerity, each had a secret from the other. Habermann dared say
nothing of Axel's debt to his sisters, the young Frau had confessed it
to him with bitter tears and a bleeding heart, the secret was not his
own property, but that of another, dearly bought and dearly won. Franz
also had his secret, but it must have been a good one, for his face was
full of thoughtful joy, and he put one foot up comfortably, on the
sofa, and then the other, and he nodded to Habermann, in a friendly
way, as he went on talking, and he kept nodding, and finally nodded
himself to sleep. Youth and nature must have their rights. Old
Habermann got up softly, and looked at him. Joyous thoughts were still
hovering over his face, like the beams of the setting sun over a clear,
still, transparent lake, and the old man brought a coverlet, and
wrapped it gently over him, and then he went out into the Frau
Pastorin's little back-garden, and seated himself in an arbor, which he
himself had planted, several years before, in his trouble and sorrow,
and looked at the window of the room where his daughter slept. Ah, did
she sleep? Who can sleep, with bright sunlight shining in the heart?
Who can sleep when every sound turns into a melody singing of love and
happiness? A light step sounded on the gravel in the garden path, and a
lovely maiden, in a light morning dress, approached, turning up her
face to the sun-rising, and, with her hands folded on her breast,
gazing at the morning sun, as if she too longer feared to be blinded by
its light; but tears ran down her rosy cheeks. Right, Louise! The sun
is God's sun, and the happiness is God's happiness, and when it shines
bright and dazzling in our eyes, tears are good, they soften the light.
She bent down, and lifted a rose, to inhale its fragrance, but did not
pluck it. Right, Louise! Roses are earthly roses, joys are earthly
joys, they both blossom in their season, leave them to their season.
Wilt thou enjoy them before their time, thou hast only a withered rose
on thy breast, and a withered joy in thy heart.
She walked on slowly, through the garden, and when she came to the
arbor, where her old father sat, she sprang towards him, threw herself
into his arms, and nestled her head upon his bosom: "Father! father!"
Right, Louise! Here is thy rightful place! In thy father's heart beams
God's sunshine, in thy father's heart bloom earthly roses.