CONCERNING WÄRLI AND MARIE.
WÄRLI, the little hunchback postman, a cheery soul, came whistling up
the Kurhaus stairs, carrying with him that precious parcel of registered
letters, which gave him the position of being the most important person
in Petershof. He was a linguist, too, was Wärli, and could speak broken
English in a most fascinating way, agreeable to every one, but
intelligible only to himself. Well, he came whistling up the stairs
when he heard Marie's blithe voice humming her favourite spinning-song.
"Ei, Ei!" he said to himself; "Marie is in a good temper to-day. I will
give her a call as I pass."
He arranged his neckerchief and smoothed his curls; and when he reached
the end of the landing, he paused outside a little glass-door, and, all
unobserved, watched Marie in her pantry cleaning the candlesticks and
lamps.
Marie heard a knock, and, looking up from her work, saw Wärli.
"Good day, Wärli," she said, glancing hurriedly at a tiny broken mirror
suspended on the wall. "I suppose you have a letter for me. How
delightful!"
"Never mind about the letter just now," he said, waving his hand as
though wishing to dismiss the subject. "How nice to hear you singing
so sweetly, Marie! Dear me, in the old days at Grüsch, how often I have
heard that song of the spinning-wheels. You have forgotten the old days,
Marie, though you remember the song."
"Give me my letter, Wärli, and go about your work," said Marie,
pretending to be impatient. But all the same her eyes looked extremely
friendly. There was something very winning about the hunchback's face.
"Ah, ah! Marie," he said, shaking his curly head; "I know how it is
with you: you only like people in fine binding. They have not always
fine hearts."
"What nonsense you talk Wärli!" said Marie "There, just hand me the
oil-can. You can fill this lamp for me. Not too full, you goose! And
this one also, ah, you're letting the oil trickle down! Why, you're
not fit for anything except carrying letters! Here, give me my letter."
"What pretty flowers," said Wärli. "Now if there is one thing I do like,
it is a flower. Can you spare me one, Marie? Put one in my button-hole,
do!"
"You are a nuisance this afternoon," said Marie, smiling and pinning a
flower on Wärli's blue coat. Just then a bell rang violently.
"Those Portuguese ladies will drive me quite mad," said Marie. "They
always ring just when I am enjoying myself?"
"When you are enjoying yourself!" said Wärli triumphantly.
"Of course," returned Marie; "I always do enjoy cleaning the oil-lamps;
I always did!"
"Ah, I'd forgotten the oil-lamps!" said Wärli.
"And so had I!" laughed Marie. "Na, na, there goes that bell again!
Won't they be angry! Won't they scold at me! Here, Wärli, give me my
letter, and I'll be off."
"I never told you I had any letter for you," remarked Wärli. "It was
entirely your own idea. Good afternoon, Fräulein Marie."
The Portuguese ladies' bell rang again, still more passionately this
time; but Marie did not seem to hear nor care. She wished to be
revenged on that impudent postman. She went to the top of the stairs
and called after Wärli in her most coaxing tones:
"Do step down one moment; I want to show you something!"
"I must deliver the registered letters," said Wärli, with official
haughtiness. "I have already wasted too much of my time."
"Won't you waste a few more minutes on me?" pleaded Marie pathetically.
"It is not often I see you now."
Wärli came down again, looking very happy.
"I want to show you such a beautiful photograph I've had taken," said
Marie. "Ach, it is beautiful!"
"You must give one to me," said Wärli eagerly.
"Oh, I can't do that," replied Marie, as she opened the drawer and took
out a small packet. "It was a present to me from the Polish gentleman
himself. He saw me the other day here in the pantry. I was so tired,
and I had fallen asleep with my broom, just as you see me here. So he
made a photograph of me. He admires me very much. Isn't it nice? and
isn't the Polish gentleman clever? and isn't it nice to have so much
attention paid to one? Oh, there's that horrid bell again! Good
afternoon, Herr Wärli. That is all I have to say to you, thank you."
Wärli's feelings towards the Polish gentleman were not of the
friendliest that day.