LION, FOX, AND MAGPIE.
In the first winter months, as well as in those of early spring, no
spot in the whole country was so beautiful as the Morgenhalde. Old Lenz
was quite right; the mornings sun shone on it during half the day, and
stoves were not much required. In the small garden behind the house,
flowers were still blooming, when everywhere else no more were to be
seen; and they sprung up there, too, when every other place was barren.
This garden, however, was as much sheltered as a room, and, which is
very rare in this country, a sweet-chesnut tree stood here, to which,
however, the squirrels and woodpeckers in the neighbouring wood paid
many unwelcome visits. The garden was sheltered by the house on one
side, without being deprived by it, however, of the sun, after ten
o'clock; and the large wood, which clothed the steep hill behind the
house, seemed particularly to rejoice in the garden, two of its finest
firs standing at the entrance.
If there had been many people who liked walking in the cold early
winter months, they would certainly have crossed the meadow, gone
through the wood, and taken the path to Lenz's house, and then returned
by the crest of the mountain. There was, however, only one habitual
pedestrian in the village, or rather we may say two, namely,
Petrowitsch and his dog Bueble. Every day before dinner, Petrowitsch
ensured a good appetite by following the path along the meadow, past
the house, and over the hill.
Bueble took double and triple exercise, by jumping backwards and
forwards over all the little stony channels on the hill side, leading
down to the valley from Lenz's house. These channels were at present
dry, but in spring and summer they served to carry off the rushing
mountain springs to the valley beneath. Petrowitsch was always on the
best terms with his dog, and in his fits of good humour he used to call
him "my son." Petrowitsch had returned home from foreign parts a
wealthy man; of course his riches were estimated in the country at
threefold their real value, but what he really did possess made him
very independent. That longing which never leaves the Swabians and the
sons of the mountains to return to their homes, had also brought
Petrowitsch back to his native country, where he lived a very pleasant
life in his own fashion. His most stirring time was, however, at
Midsummer, when merchants assembled from every part of the world, and
in the "Lion" might be heard Spanish, Italian, English, Russian, and
Dutch, in fact every European language; and amid all these foreign
tongues, good, wholesome, old fashioned German, in the dialect of the
Black Forest, spoken by the very same men who could speak every other
language. Petrowitsch at such times was much sought after. Though
usually leaving the "Lion Inn" at a particular hour, at such times as
these he sometimes remained there for days, and even nights; and when
the fair was over he was left alone, and occupied himself, especially
with regard to those who were bound for the Lower Donau, where he had
long resided, by guessing how far they had proceeded on their journey.
Petrowitsch kept the whole country in a state of excitement, for though
he did not say so himself, still it was pretty well known that he
intended to found a hospital for the district. There was a stove in
every room of the large house he had built, which seemed to denote (and
he neither said "Yes" or "No" when it was pointed out to him) that he
intended to found a hospital for sick labourers.
Lenz, his only heir, was not less excited than the others, for it
seemed naturally a settled point, that he should inherit the greatest
part of his uncle's property. Lenz, however, never reckoned on it. He
showed his uncle the proper respect due to him; still he had spirit
enough to provide for himself. He made his apprentice keep his uncle's
favourite walk in good order, but neither he nor Petrowitsch ever
exchanged a word on the subject. Every forenoon, when Lenz's geese and
hens made a commotion, and a dog barked, it was the signal of uncle
Petrowitsch's approach. Lenz nodded through the window, where he always
sat working; his uncle nodded in return and passed on. Lenz did not go
to his uncle's house, nor did his uncle come to him.
One day Petrowitsch stood still before Lenz's window, and Bueble seemed
to guess his master's thoughts, for though in general he only chased
Lenz's poultry as far as the garden, and was satisfied when they flew
cackling behind the hedge, and returned content to his master; still,
on this particular occasion, he chased the hens into the garden as far
as the house, where they took refuge with Franzl. Petrowitsch scolded
his dog angrily, and passed on, saying to himself, "Lenz must come to
me, why should I trouble myself about him? best let him alone. When any
man begins to feel an interest in another, all peace is at an end; for
then it is perpetually--Will he do this? will he do that. None of that
for me! Heaven be praised: I care for no man living." The thought now
recurred to him, that he had heard something about the wood.
On the day before the Landlady of the "Lion" had sat down beside him,
and after having talked on various matters she suddenly began to
congratulate Petrowitsch on taking his quiet walk every day; it kept
him in good health, and in this way he might live to be a hundred; in
fact he looked as if he would. She honestly hoped he might, he had
worked hard enough, and deserved rest and prosperity now. Petrowitsch
was shrewd enough to know that there was more than met the ear in all
this; he thought, and probably he was right, that the Landlady was so
particularly civil to him, because she had designs on his nephew; but
she did not say a word of this. She resumed the subject of his daily
walk, and said it would be an excellent plan if Petrowitsch would
purchase the fine Spannreuter wood at the Morgenhalde, from her
husband; he was by no means anxious to part with it, in fact she did
not know whether he could be persuaded to sell it at all, but she would
like to be the means of procuring for Petrowitsch, the great pleasure
of walking in his own wood, which would certainly be much more
satisfactory.
Petrowitsch thanked her for her singularly delicate attention, but
finally said he was quite as well pleased to walk in woods belonging to
other people; in fact, on the contrary, at present he had no cause for
irritation when he met people stealing the wood, and nothing was more
unwholesome before dinner than irritation.
The Landlady smiled significantly, saying, "If any one had a clever
idea in their head, Petrowitsch was sure to be still more clever."
He thanked her again, and both were as sweet as possible to each other,
far sweeter in fact, than the pieces of sugar that Petrowitsch, had
pocketed from the coffee he had after dinner.
It now occurred to Petrowitsch, that the wood would be a very suitable
purchase for Lenz, if he could manage to buy it through a third person,
for the Landlord would be sure to set a high price on it to himself.
This was what he wanted to say to him; an intention which he however
gave up, because, as we have seen, he wished to follow the noble
principle of caring for no one but himself. His taking any trouble at
all on the subject was too much.
He found the hill much steeper to climb than usual; for in going up a
hill people should not have their thoughts occupied, but only think of
breathing freely. Bueble was busy scratching out a mole, although he was
sure of a comfortable well dressed dinner very soon, but his master
called out to him, "Here! you stupid fellow! what business have you
with a mole? Let it burrow as much as it chooses;" and when the dog was
trotting by his side he said, "Back!" The dog slunk behind his master,
and in the same way the latter cast behind him all intrusive thoughts;
he was resolved to banish them altogether, and not disturb the peaceful
routine of his life.
Petrowitsch found the family at the "Lion" rather disturbed. The wife
had told her husband that she had offered the wood at the Morgenhalde
to Petrowitsch, and that he would have nothing to do with it.
The Landlord was furious at this overhasty confidential communication,
and ended by saying, "Petrowitsch will no doubt now spread a report
that I am in want of money."
"But you said that you were in want of money," said his wife
snappishly.
"If it were so, I don't want your interference; only I don't wish to
sell any of my securities at the present rate of exchange;" cried the
Landlord in an unusually loud voice, just as Petrowitsch came into the
room. The latter secretly chuckled, and thought to himself, "You talk
so loudly and so pompously that I feel sure you are in want of money!"
Just as they were sitting down to table, the postman brought several
letters, and some registered ones among them; the Landlord signed the
receipt for these, but did not open the letters, saying in a loud voice
as he seated himself at dinner, what indeed he frequently had said
before: "I never read my letters before dinner, for whether agreeable
or disagreeable, they are equally bad for digestion. Railway scrip
shall never disturb me."
There was, however, a malicious scoffer at another table, who was not
taken in by this superior wisdom, and who thought--"A steam-engine is
driving round and round you for all that, in spite of your
indifference;" and this scoffer was, of course, Petrowitsch.
After dinner, Pilgrim passed the table repeatedly at which Petrowitsch
was seated, and several times stood opposite to it: four eyes stared at
him with amazement. Bueble, who was perched on his master's knee, fixed
his eyes on him suspiciously and growled, for he had a perception that
some service was to be claimed from his master, and Petrowitsch glanced
up repeatedly from his newspaper: "What does the man want--has he a
wood, too, that he wishes to sell?"
Pilgrim ran his fingers restlessly through his long thin hair, but this
did not help him any nearer to Petrowitsch, who at this moment rose,
paid his score, and went away. Pilgrim hurried after him into the
street, saying, "Herr Lenz! pray allow me a couple of words."
"Good day,--that is exactly a couple of words."
"Herr Lenz! I want nothing for myself; but I consider it my duty
to----"
"Your duty is nothing to me."
"But it does concern you, Herr Lenz. Just imagine that another person
is telling you what I am about to say; it is right you should know it."
"I am not at all curious."
"Briefly,--it concerns your nephew, Lenz."
"Really? I suspected as much."
"But more than that; you may secure his happiness for life."
"Each man must secure his own."
"It will only cost you a visit to the Doctor."
"Is Lenz ill?"
"No! the case is shortly this. He must marry, and he wishes to do so;
and the best wife for him is the Doctor's Amanda. I have reflected on
the matter in every point of view. It seems difficult to persuade him
to pluck up courage to go himself. He also thinks--he did not say so,
but I know it--that he is not rich enough; but if his uncle would only
make the proposal for him, and at the same time promise----"
"Really? I thought that was the point you were coming to. If my
brother's son wants a wife and chooses one, he may get one himself; I
am an old bachelor, and know nothing of such affairs."
"If his friends do nothing in the matter, Amanda will marry some one
else. I know an apothecary who admires her extremely."
"And a very fitting wife she would be for him; but I am not Lenz's
keeper."
"And suppose your nephew is taken in by a far less eligible person?"
"That is his own affair."
"Herr Lenz! I don't believe that you are so hard as you pretend."
"I pretend nothing. Good morning, Herr Pilgrim!"
He walked away, and left Pilgrim boiling over with rage; at last,
however, he went home to rub colours for the following day, which he
hoped might be brighter, for this afternoon was dark and dismal.