"Oh, man of geometry,
Pull up your pegs:
How can you see straight with such
Shocking round legs?"
A burst of laughter filled the room, instantly succeeded by another
silence. The knives and forks behind the screen were breathless also.
Florian got up and said to Josey, "_Comment vous portez-vous, Monsieur
Geometre?_"
"_Quadulta loing_," replied Josey, who continued to talk gibberish,
amid renewed peals of laughter.
"'Wish you joy of your berth," said Constantine, taking the mop from
the slop-bucket. "Here: just survey this table for me: you can do it
very well, you know, for there's no need of brains."
Amid constant and increasing merriment, Josey entered upon his labors,
and proceeded until Babbett came up, saying,--
"Have done with this, now, and crack your jokes somewhere else. Be
quiet, Josey, or go about your business."
Josey struck the table and jabbered grimly. The screen was suddenly
pushed aside, and Steinhaeuser, the admirer of Crescence, appeared,
restrained by his two comrades from assaulting the mocker. Caspar tried
to pacify him, and, as soon as he had partially succeeded, he stepped
up to the three, and said, with more decision than might have been
expected,--
"I'll tell you what: this sort of thing can't be done on my premises;
and the sooner you know it the better. Drink your wine quietly, or I'll
show you what's outside of the door. I won't have my guests insulted
while I'm master of this house. No offence to one; but I will have
order."
"_Juste_," said Florian: "all right: I'll find the gentleman somewhere
else in good time. You hear, you lobsided lout over there? If I catch
you within half a mile of Crescence again, I'll knock your crooked legs
into a cocked hat, and then you may toddle on your tripod."
"You ragamuffin!" roared Steinhaeuser, before whom Caspar had posted
himself. Florian made for him with a "Comapulation smash! _foudre de
Dieu!_" but Caspar hauled him back, and Constantine was shrewd enough
to interfere as a peacemaker.
The three left the house, followed by Josey. On the road they vowed
never to patronize the Eagle again. Florian made an effort to go back,
however: he hadn't given the landlord all his change.
[Illustration: Constantine was shrewd enough to interfere as a
peacemaker.]
"Thunder an' ouns!" said Constantine, "stay here, I tell you. You're
the best man for flying off the handle in Wurtemberg. Be quiet, now:
we'll manage to lay the geometer out some time, and make him forget the
resurrection of the legs."
This counsel prevailed; and, to compensate themselves for their
enforced inaction, they travelled through the village, the College Chap
howling like a whipped dog, and making, as he expressed it, all the
dogs in the houses rebellious.
3.
WEEKDAY LIFE ON SUNDAY.
Next day Crescence did not dress in her Sunday clothes to go to church,
but complained of being unwell, and remained at home.
The tailor, when he came home from church and saw his daughter in
dishabille, said,--
"What's that? Be quiet, I tell you, once and for all," he continued,
seeing Crescence about to speak. "You don't feel very well, because
Florian's come back, and you don't want to be seen in the street. I've
heard all about the fuss he had with the geometer last night. Now, just
for spite, you must go to the Horb Garden to-day with the geometer.
That's what I tell you: and one word's as good as a thousand."
"I'm sick."
"No use. Go up-stairs and dress yourself, or I'll measure your clothes
with this yardstick."
"Let him talk," said the tailor's wife, who had entered by this time:
"what he says is for the mice to dance by. Crescence, if you don't feel
well, stay at home. If it depended on him, you wouldn't have a shred of
clothes to put on, good or bad: all he can do is to put his feet under
the table three times a day and get himself fed like a billet of
soldiers."
The tailor advanced upon Crescence; but his wife posted herself in
front of her, clenched her fists, and scared her liege-lord into a
corner.
These people were fresh from church, where they had prayed and sung of
love, peace, and happiness. Their hymn-books were still in their hands,
and already had Discord resumed its reign.
Indeed, we have stumbled upon a peculiar household. The mother had been
the parson's cook, and had married the tailor rather suddenly.
Crescence was her oldest child, and she had, besides, a son and a
daughter. She still wore citizen's dress, with the sole exception of
the black cap of the peasant-woman, which, from its superiority in
cheapness to the lace caps of the votaries of Paris, seems destined to
survive all other traces of the peculiar costume of the peasantry.
During the early part of their wedded life they lived together very
harmoniously; for where there is plenty of all things needful none but
the most quarrelsome contract habits of dispute. Such a state of things
is entitled, among the refined as well as among the vulgar, a happy
match!
The tailor worked at his trade, and his wife kept a little shop for the
sale of groceries and odds and ends.
But what is more subject to the fashions than those kings of fashion,
the tailors? Balt only worked for the gentlefolks and for the Jews, who
also wore citizens' dress: make peasants' clothes he could not,--and
would not, for he had been to Berlin. New competitors established
themselves in the village and in the neighborhood, and Balt would run
about for days without finding work.
This induced him to enter upon a speculation, in which we find him
still engaged. He went to Stuttgard in company with Anselm Meyer,
Betsy's father, and bought old clothes to make new ones of. He
particularly affected the old scarlet swallow-tail coats of the court
footmen, in procuring which Anselm was of great assistance to him, as
he had made acquaintances in high places in the times when all things
wanted for the court were obtained on the contract-system. These
liveries were cut up into red waistcoats for the peasants, such as are
worn in the Black Forest to this day. They also purchased the old
uniforms of the officers, and transformed the red lining of the
warrior's habiliments into vestments for the peaceful shepherd. It was
said, however, that Anselm managed to monopolize the lion's share of
the profits, besides securing an additional commission at the hands of
the illustrious venders.
From the time that Balt went out of fashion and the fortunes of the
house began to ebb, the couple ceased the practice of ever exchanging a
word of good feeling. Balt was scarcely permitted to hold a spoon in
his hand long enough to eat his dinner. He could hardly call his soul
his own; and, though nominally the master-tailor, he had not the power
to cut a piece of bacon to his liking of a Sunday. Wherever he was, he
was in his wife's way: she was absolute mistress, for she went on a
trip every fall, and after her return the establishment always showed
symptoms of a good supply of funds.
The children clung to the mother, of course, for not only had Balt
fallen from his high estate, but he was not much at home. He hardly
showed himself, except to eat and sleep. The former was well salted
with pithy conversation, and the latter soothed with a well-ordered
lecture.
Crescence now looked contemptuously at her father. The geometer
entered, and at once the father and mother ran over with the milk of
human kindness and loved each other tenderly. Crescence alone looked
sad, and her lips trembled.
"Hurry, Crescence, and get dressed," said her mother. "Mr. Geometer,
will you take dinner with us to-day? Do, please. It's nothing much,
to-be-sure,--sourcrout, dumplings, and ham; but you'll like it for all
that: Crescence did the cooking." A shrill giggle accompanied almost
every word, the effect of which was further enhanced by a way the good
lady had of twitching her nose as she spoke.
Balt exerted all his eloquence, and almost resorted to "gentle
compulsion," to induce the geometer to stay. He took his hat out of his
hand and refused to return it, well knowing that if the geometer stayed
there would not only be a peaceful dinner, but perhaps also a quart of
beer. This hope was realized. Cordele, the youngest daughter, was sent
to the Eagle, and returned with a bottle under her apron,--a
concealment not owing to any scruple of public opinion on the subject
of temperance, but to that desire to make a secret of every thing which
arises in every village as a foil to the habitual endeavor of everybody
to know every thing about everybody else's business.
Crescence, finely dressed, but with eyes inflamed with weeping, brought
the dinner. To guard against inquiries, she complained of smoke in the
kitchen. Thus the dinner was richly spiced with falsehood. Before the
geometer had half cleared his plate the worthy hostess put another
piece upon it. He thanked her heartily for this hospitality, not
perceiving that the good lady had only removed the savory morsel to
snatch it away from her lord and master, who had honored it with his
preference. From a similar motive, she took such excellent care to keep
the guest's glass replenished that very little of the beverage came to
the tailor's lips. The conversation was carried on by the lady of the
house and the geometer exclusively. When the latter narrated the
insolence of Florian, Crescence blushed, but found an excuse for
leaving the table.