Wherein is clearly shown that he who tends the sheep
is much more honorable than he who slaughters them.
Next morning the reverend gentleman sent for Henry and submitted him
to a very severe cross-examination, which lasted for more than an
hour. When Henry at last departed, he was not only as red as a
boiled crab, but he made his exit head foremost and somewhat
precipitately; from which circumstance the maid-servants, who were
listening all the time at the kitchen door, drew various
conclusions.
Immediately afterward the reverend gentleman's bell rang three
times, which signified that Miss Michal was wanted in the library.
The reverend gentleman was in full canonicals; he united in himself
at that moment both the paternal and the maternal authority. He was
surrounded by open books, like a general in the midst of his staff;
other books, bound in pigskin, stood on the shelves like a phalanx
drawn up in battle array, and on the cupboards and presses stood
stuffed birds and the skeletons of various animals, like so many
witnesses or accusers. The human skeleton in the corner seemed
particularly on the alert. The electrical machine was also in
readiness to contribute its flashes; but the only being among all
these objects which gave any sign of life was the big clock, on the
top of which stood a little dog, which kept time with the pendulum
by wagging his tail and thrusting out his tongue.
Michal, during the whole of the following examination, fixed her
eyes steadily on the mechanical dog; and ever afterward, when she
looked back upon that momentous interview, she always saw before her
the figure of the little dog wagging his tail and thrusting out his
tongue.
"My daughter Michal," began the scholar, "I have spoken to the
candidate of faith and love, and learnt everything from him. On my
asking him whether he had a father, he answered yes. What is he? A
man of position who dwells at Zeb, and is the chief judge of the
place. I asked him why he had left his father and given himself out
for an orphan. He said he had done so because his father was a
Catholic, while he himself desired to become a Protestant clergyman.
Such a desire is certainly most praiseworthy. A young man who is
ready to eat the bread of affliction rather than be false to his
conscience reveals a great character. Moreover this answer is the
best defense to the charge you have brought against him, viz., that
of daring to make a proposal of marriage without his father's
consent. The law does not recognize the consent of a Catholic
father, but only of a Protestant. Therefore Henry Catsrider stands
absolved from the accusation that he knowingly perpetrated a fraud.
Reticence after all is not falsehood. Then, too, his new confession
of faith releases him from all parental authority, thus putting the
father completely out of court."
The big folios and the stuffed birds signified their approval by
saying nothing, and the skeleton also was silent as to the fact that
his own head had formerly been severed from his body because he had
put into practice similar subtleties in his lifetime; only the
automatical dog kept on wagging his tail, as if to say, "No, no!"
and professing his scorn of the professor's sophisms by thrusting
out his tongue.
Michal answered not a word.
"Thus all your negations are confuted, and now let us hear your
affirmations. What is the name of the young man who has presumed to
make you a declaration of love?"
"Valentine Kalondai."
The learned man no sooner heard this name than he smote violently
with the palm of his hand on the volume of Macrobius lying open
before him.
"'Quis hominum?'--What sort of a man is he?"
"An honest man!" cried Michal, with flashing eyes.
"What do you know about it? You only go by his outward appearance.
'Quanta especies sed cerebrum non habet'--a handsome face but no
brains. 'Non bene casta caro quæ bene pasta caro'--Well fed, ill
bred. But I have had occasion to learn something about the fellow's
inner man. 'Flocci, nihili'--A feather brain, a nonentity. 'Classis
primæ exultimis'--Always the first in his class, counting from the
bottom. And how about his morals? He is a wine-bibber. 'Ubi vinum
intrat, ibi ratio exit'--When the wine's in, the wit's out. He is a
dancer and a serenader. He goes about with musicians and other lewd
fellows. All that, indeed, might have been overlooked; but do you
know what the trade of his parents was, ay, and still is? Did he
confess _that_ to you in his sinful correspondence? And this trade,
remember, he must carry on to his dying day, for he does not know
enough--far from it--to raise him to a higher rank. Do you know
whose wife you would be if your senseless wish were to be
fulfilled?"
The girl grew pale. There had been nothing said about this in the
correspondence.
The professor took down his note-book and read out the name and
description of the accused:
"'Parentes, Sarah, vidua macellarii'--Sarah, the butcher's widow.
His father was a butcher, and he will be a butcher too. People who
work in blood! What do you say to that? Can the daughter of the
clergyman become the wife of a butcher? And when she has to choose
between a man who tends the sheep of the Lord and a man who
slaughters cattle, how can she possibly give her hand to the latter?
Have I brought you up all these years only that your lot may be an
eternal shedding of blood? To wake up with blood every day, and
every day to lie down with blood! Every day to smell blood on the
hand of him who embraces you! To be bound to a man whose calling in
life it is to lay violent hands on God's creatures! Have you really
the courage to choose such a lot?"
The mechanical dog wagged his tail and put out his tongue.
It seemed to Michal as if everything was turning round and round:
the portraits of the scholars, the stuffed birds, even the skeleton
with its clattering joints. How could she defend herself against so
many?
The scholar saw from the corpse-like pallor of his daughter's face
the crushing impression his words had produced upon her. It was in a
much gentler voice that he now continued:
"Now go to your room, or rather to your little garden, and think
over what I've just been saying. Write first of all in your copy
book: 'Fathers have their children's welfare more at heart than the
children themselves.' Yet the decision shall rest with you alone.
Your fate is in your own hands. I'll do no violence to your
feelings. If indeed there be really more strength in your heart
than I ever anticipated, show it now! If you have the courage to
knit your life to those who work in blood, give us a specimen of it
at home here. You have two pretty doves in a cage. I bought them for
you on your birthday. Slaughter them with your own hand and make
some broth of them; you may prepare it any way you like. It doesn't
matter to me now. I shall then know your decision. Go now, and think
the matter over!"
Pretty Michal went down into the garden and walked to and fro among
the rose trees. In the middle of the path was the dovecote, and in
it were the two fan-tailed pigeons which she had to slaughter, she
who had never had the heart to kill so much as a kitchen fly. If she
could have had her own way she would have liked everyone to have
been a vegetarian. And now she was to kill her favorite doves.
She had no one to whom she could turn for advice, no one to whom she
could pour out her griefs. Here was a case in which neither the
philosophers, nor the calf-bound polyhistors, nor yet her daily
playfellows, the flowers, could be of the slightest assistance. She
had no other friends than the flowers, and they could only tell her
what they knew themselves, _e. g._, that the virginal lily loves the
garlic, although the one exhales perfumes and the other stinks; and
the noble anthora withers away whenever it is planted beside the
najollus for although the latter certainly has splendid blossoms,
(the corolla is a helmet whereon sit two doves), it nevertheless
brings destruction upon its fair neighbor--and so on _ad nauseam_.
And then she began thinking that perhaps the feeling which had been
nourished in her breast by this exchange correspondence was not
exactly love after all. She had only seen the young man from afar,
only spoken to him in her dreams. She might easily renounce him. She
had no mother to tell her difficulties to, and from her father she
had learnt nothing but cold prudence. Mathematics is a pitiless
science. According to mathematics, love is not a number which
counts, but a mere cipher. Among geometrical figures you will find
every conceivable shape but nothing in the shape of a heart. She
could get no further information about her lover. The games of ball
in the market-place were now forbidden, and who knew but what poor
Valentine was locked up besides? It was so easy to find a pretext.
Perhaps he had renounced her himself already. Perhaps he had gone
back to his native place.
Should she therefore sacrifice her favorite doves for his sake?
* * * * *
At noon the same day Michal brought both the doves to her father,
not roasted or stewed on a dish, but alive in their cage, whereupon
the professor kissed his dutiful little daughter on both cheeks.
Three weeks later he united pretty Michal and Henry Catsrider in
holy wedlock, and gave them both his parental as well as his
sacerdotal blessing.
Valentine Kalondai had had no opportunity of doing anything
desperate in the meantime. After the assembled Consistory had
publicly upbraided him for all the sins he had hitherto
committed--to wit: his dancing in the woods; his keeping a big dog;
his propensity to all kinds of idle jesting; his playing truant at
church; his consorting with fiddlers and trumpeters; tussling with
night watchmen; making the beadle drunk and dressing him up in
woman's clothes; smoking in the streets, etc.--he was sent to jail
for a week, and then solemnly expelled from the Keszmár Lyceum with
the _consilium abeundi_, and thus prevented from doing anything
whereby he might perhaps have prevented the consummation of his
rival's wedding. So the ceremony was performed without let or stay,
and pretty Michal became the wife of the man who tended the Lord's
flock instead of the man who slaughtered the sheep.