WORK AND GOOD DEEDS.
The nearest neighbour--and he was a good way off--the beadle, had sent
up something to eat; for it is here the custom of the country for the
nearest neighbour to prepare food, and to send it to the mourners after
the funeral, under the idea that on such an occasion people are too
much occupied to think of it themselves; indeed, during funeral
obsequies, and for three hours afterwards, it is not customary to light
any fires. The beadle's daughter brought the dinner herself. "Thank
you, Kathrine, and thank your parents also from me. Take away the
dinner, I will eat again when I am hungry; now, I really cannot."
"You must at all events try to do so, for that is the custom," said
Franzl; "you must put it to your lips. Sit down, Kathrine; in the
presence of a mourner you must always sit, and not stand. Young people
now-a-days no longer know what is customary, and what is not. You must
talk, Kathrine, too, for it is bad luck to be silent when a mourner is
in the room, so say something."
The robust, cherry cheeked girl, blushing scarlet, stammered, "I really
can't," and then burst out crying.
Lenz fixed his eyes on her, on which she threw her apron over her face.
"Compose yourself," said he kindly; "thank God, every day of your life,
that you still have your parents. Now I have taken some of the soup."
"You must taste the other dishes also," urged Franzl.
Lenz did as she wished, though it was a painful effort; he then rose,
and the girl did the same, saying: "Do not be angry with me, Lenz, I
ought to have tried to comfort you, but--but--"
"I know; thank you. I can't speak much either, just now."
"May God preserve you! My father told me to say that he hoped you would
come to us; he cannot leave the house, as he has a bad foot."
"I will see: when I feel able I will come."
The girl left the room, and Lenz paced up and down, stretching forth
his hands, as if expecting some one to take hold of them, but no one
did so; then his eyes rested on his tools, and more particularly on a
certain file which hung on a nail by itself; he shivered as he laid
hold of it, for something was now in contact with his hand.
This file was the most precious heritage he possessed. There was an
indenture in its maple handle imprinted by his father's hand, for he
had worked with this same tool for more than forty seven years, and
liked to show it, and often said: "It seems scarcely credible that the
wooden handle should, in the course of years, become indented in this
way by the pressure of the fingers." Whenever a stranger came to call,
his mother used to exhibit the singular looking tool.
The doctor, in the valley below, who had a collection of old fashioned
clocks of the Black Forest, often begged to have the file, to hang it
up in his cabinet, but the father never would consent to part with it,
and still less the mother and son after his death. After his father's
burial, when the son was sitting alone with his mother, she said:
"Lenz, we must no longer grieve, we must bear our affliction with
patience. Take your father's file, and set to work--'Watch and pray,'
say the Scriptures, 'for the night cometh when no man can work.' Be
thankful that you have an honest trade already, and not one still to
seek. A thousand times your father used to say: 'It is such a good
thing to rise in the morning, and to know that your work is waiting for
you; and while I am filing, I file away all useless splinters out of my
head; and when I hammer, I knock on the head all sad thoughts, and away
they fly!'"
These were his mother's words, and, in recalling them at this moment,
she seemed to say them once more: "If I could only recall thus every
word she ever said to me!"
So Lenz began to work busily.
Franzl was standing outside with Kathrine, saying: "I am so glad that
you were the first person to bring food here, it is a good omen--for
the person who gives you the first morsel of food in such a case, is
sure to----, but I won't say it out; we must not forestall such
matters. Come back in the evening, for it must be you who say good
night to him; and you must say it three times over, and then it has
effect. Hush! what is that? Our Heavenly Father in the Seventh Heaven
above! I declare he is at work on the day of the funeral! No one knows
that young man thoroughly, not even I, who have been with him from his
childhood; he has singular ideas which no one can understand, but the
kindest heart in the world. But don't tell any one that he is working
to-day, for it might bring him into bad odour. Do you hear? Come back
for the dishes to-night, and then take care to speak to him properly;
you can talk well enough generally."
Franzl was interrupted by Lenz opening the door, and saying: "Franzl,
if any visitor comes, say that I can see no one but Pilgrim. So, you
are not gone yet, Kathrine?"
"I am just going," said she, and ran hastily down the hill. Lenz went
back into the room, and worked on busily, while Franzl was in a state
of incessant perplexity at the strange young man, who had been first
crying, as if his heart would break, and was now hard at work. It was
certainly not from hardheartedness, nor from avarice, so what could be
the reason?
"My old head is not wise enough to find out," said Franzl, turning to
ask her old mistress what she was to think about it; but she clasped
her hands in sorrow, on suddenly remembering that the mother was dead.
Franzl's heart sunk when she saw visitors arrive; the schoolmaster,
some of the choir, and various others. She dismissed them all, with a
sorrowful face, and would gladly have stopped their ears if she could,
that they might not hear Lenz at work. She looked out anxiously for
Pilgrim, who had great influence over him, and would, no doubt, take
the file out of his hand; but Pilgrim did not come. Franzl, however,
had now a lucky thought: there was no necessity for her to stay at
home, so she walked along the path far enough to prevent any one
hearing the filing and hammering, and she dismissed those whom she met
coming to the house.
Lenz, however, found that active employment produced calmness and
composure, and he did not leave off till evening, when he went
down into the valley, past the scattered houses, to his friend the
painter, Pilgrim; but half way he turned round suddenly, as if he
had heard some one calling him, and yet all was still around. No sound
was heard but the waterwagtail--called by the country people here
_Hockenock_--twittering incessantly in the reeds, and the yellow
hammer, perched on the young green shoots, on the top of the fir trees,
whistling its solitary note, and glancing round with its bright eyes.
There are no larks here, either in the valley or in the meadows beyond;
they only soar on the high land above, where cornfields are cultivated.
Mists were rising in the meadows, but these thin vapours are only
visible in front and behind, and never in the small space which a
person occupies standing, or walking.
Lenz went quickly along the valley, and did not stop till the sun had
gone down behind the mountains, and then he said: "It is setting for
the first time over her grave." The evening bell rung out; he took off
his hat and proceeded on his way. He paused at a bend in the valley,
and, concealed by a bush, looked up at a solitary cottage. On a
bench before the door was seated a man with whom we are already
acquainted--the clockmaker, Faller. He had a child on his knee, whom he
was playing with, and his sister was seated behind him, whose husband
had gone to foreign parts. She was nursing an infant, and fondly
kissing its little hands.
"Good evening, Faller;" said Lenz in his usual clear tenor voice.
"Oh! is that really you?" replied a bass voice; "we were just speaking
of you; Lisbeth said you would forget us in your grief, and I said, on
the contrary, it is the very thing that would make him think of us."
"You are right, I come to you for that very reason; I remembered that
Hurgel's house is to be sold to-morrow, I will be your security if you
choose to buy it. You will then also be nearer me."
"Capital! famous! so you are going to stay where you are?"
"Why not?"
"People said that you were going to travel now, for a year or more."
"Who said so?"
"I think it was your uncle; but I am not quite sure."
"Really: well perhaps I may; if I go away, you must live in my house."
"You had far better stay at home, it is too late to travel----"
"And marry soon," added the young wife.
"Yes; for then all taste for travelling is at an end--a married man has
too many links at home. There is no doubt you will prosper, Lenz, for
thinking of me in all your sorrow; your mother in heaven will bless you
for it; no single minute passes without my thinking of her; in all
things her first thought was for others, and you take after her--God
will bless you."
"Kindness brings its own blessing; my walk here, and what we have
agreed on, has lightened my heart already.--Lisbeth, have you anything
to eat in the house? I begin to feel hungry for the first time to-day."
"I will boil you a couple of eggs."
"That will be quite sufficient."
Lenz ate with a tolerable appetite, and his hosts were delighted to see
him enjoy his meal.
Faller's mother, in spite of her son's remonstrances, persisted in
asking Lenz to give her some of his mother's clothes.
Lenz promised to do so.
Faller would not be prevented walking a good part of the way home with
him; but scarcely had he gone twenty steps, when he gave a shrill
whistle. His sister asked what was the matter? He called out in answer,
that he would not return home tonight.
"Where are you to be?" said Lenz.
"With you."
The two friends walked on together in silence; the moon shone brightly,
the owls in the wood hooted, but strains of cheerful music proceeded
from the village.
"It would never do if every one lamented for one person:" said Lenz,
"God be praised that each one has his own joys and sorrows!"
"Your mother said that through you;" replied Faller.
"Stop;" said Lenz, "would you not like to tell your betrothed bride,
that you can now buy the house?"
"Indeed I should--come with me--you will see a degree of joy seldom to
be seen in this world."
"Climb up the hill alone to her cottage, for I am not in a mood for joy
today, and I feel quite exhausted. I will wait here; now go quickly,
and don't be long of returning."
Faller went up the hill hurriedly, and Lenz seated himself on a heap of
stones beside the path, and, like the dew now softly sinking on the
grass and the trees, making everything revive, so a sensation of pure,
heavenly dew, seemed to refresh the soul of the solitary man.
Far up the hill, a light now sparkled through the window of the cottage
which had been hitherto dark, and hope and joy passed into the hearts
of the betrothed, who had so long felt desolate and hopeless. Lenz too
was happy.
There is no greater felicity on earth than doing good to others. Faller
ran back, panting for breath, and described all the joy with which his
news was received; the old father and the bride threw open the window,
and shouted down into the valley, "May a thousand blessings attend you,
worthy man!" and the bride first cried, and then laughed.
The two friends now pursued their way for some time, each following his
own train of thought. Faller went along with a firm step: in his whole
bearing there was something vigorous and determined, and while Lenz
walked beside him, he involuntarily held himself more upright.
At the spot where the hill shuts out the valley Lenz turned to take a
last look at the churchyard, and sighed heavily.
"My father lies there also, and he was not spared to me so long as
yours;" said Faller.
Lenz went first up the hill. What is that white figure moving on the
summit of the hill? who can it be? is it possible? is it not true that
his mother is dead? She must have left the cold grave.
The mourner gazed in awe and trembling.
"Good evening, Lenz;" exclaimed a voice. It is the beadle's daughter
Kathrine.
"How is it that you are here again?"
"I have been with Franzl, for she asked our maid to sit with her, she
was so sad and solitary. She is old, so she is nervous and timid. I
would have no fear if your mother were really to come again. Good
night, Lenz; good night; good night."
Kathrine had said good night three times, just as Franzl had desired
her; this means something, and who knows what may come of it?