"Lassie, crowd, crowd, crowd;
Let me sit close beside you:
I love you very much,
I can abide you.
But for what folks say
You'd be my love to-day;
If the folks were all gone
You and I'd be one.
Lassie, crowd, &c.
"Lassie, look, look, look
Down my black eyes, and see them
Dance in the light
The sight of you does give them.
Look, look in them deep:
Your likeness they must keep;
Here you must stay,
And never go away.
Lassie, look, &c.
"Lassie, you, you, you
Must take upon your finger
The wedding-ring:
And may it linger, linger!
If I can't do so,
To the wars I'll go;
If you I can't have,
All the world is my grave.
Lassie, you," &c.
Many other songs they sang,--mostly sad ones, though the singers were
in bounding spirits. As the spring flowed on at their feet and
meandered through the fields, so the song-fountain in them appeared
inexhaustible.
The teacher found himself in a world unknown to him before. Though he
had heard and experienced something of the rich tenderness of the rude
national ditties of Germany, he had tasted them as we eat the wild
berries of the wood on a well-served table: we prefer them to the
products of the greenhouse, yet sweeten them with sugar, and, perhaps,
wash them down with wine. Here he plucked them fresh from the bush, and
ate them not upon a piled saucer, but singly, as they left the stems.
Their deep, untranslatable force and simplicity were revealed to him in
all its glory: he felt how much his individual spirit was allied to
that of the nation, and saw its lovely representative sitting by his
side. He began to aspire to the priesthood of this marvellous spirit.
On returning to Hedwig's house and meeting her grandmother still at the
door, he seized the hand of his beloved and pressed it to his heart,
saying, "Not in bitter toil shall you lift these hands for me, but to
give blessings, as becomes them."
Unable to say more, he walked quickly away.
The village gossips that evening were occupied with nothing but the
fact that the new teacher went to see Johnnie's Hedwig.
Our friend, who had been so fond of seclusion, now found it impossible
to spend fifteen minutes by himself after school-hours, in his house or
out of it. Of all the books in his library, not one seemed to chime
in with his frame of mind: and when he undertook to write into his
note-book his lucubrations appeared so bare and profitless that he
crossed them out immediately.
In the fields he never could collect his thoughts sufficiently to make
sketches: he talked with every one he met. The people were friendly;
for his open soul beamed out of his eyes. Frequently he would stand by
them as they worked, in dreamy silence: he was reluctant to leave them
and return to the solitary dignity which a little earlier he had
thought indispensable.
Once he saw Hedwig cutting grain in the field, and hastened toward her.
But he did not long remain there: it was insufferable to find himself
the only idler among so many hard workers; and yet he was entirely
unskilled in field-work, and knew what a sorry figure he should have
made had he attempted it. Hedwig had gained in his eyes by having been
seen at work. "Hosts and manna should be baked from the ears that she
has cut," he said to himself, in turning away.
He was often absent-minded when conversing with her grandmother, and it
was only when the old lady spoke of her parents and grandparents that
she riveted his attention. It was delightful to climb up this family
tree into the dim regions of the past. Her grandfather had fought in
the wars of Prince Eugene against the Turks: and she had many of his
soldier's stories by heart. At times also, without repining, she would
predict that next winter she would meet all her ancestors again. It was
easy to divert her mind from such reflections. He loved to make her
talk of Hedwig's childhood, of the early loss of her mother, and of how
she was distressed to find that her doll could not shut its eyes at
night, and pasted paper over them. When the old woman spoke in this
strain, her eyes and those of the listener beamed in the same
brightness, like two neighbor-billows lit up by one moonbeam.
Hedwig is not mentioned in his note-book. The following passage,
however, may have been suggested by the reminiscences of her aged
relative:--
"We are prone to think that with a catechism of pure reason promulgated
among the people it would be easy to convert them; but at every step we
find ourselves upon the holy ground of history, and compelled to trace
the footsteps of the past. Alas that our German history is so torn and
disjointed! where shall we begin?"
He frequently called on Buchmaier also, and heard with delight the
solid views, albeit at times a little roughly worded, of the squire.
But the more intimate he became at his house the less kindly did he
find himself received at Johnnie's. Even Hedwig began to avoid him, and
her salutations became more and more shy and timid.
One evening Hedwig came to Agnes, weeping, and said, "Only think! that
wild brother of mine won't allow it."
"What?"
"Why, the teacher to come and see me. He says if I am seen once more
with the Lauterbacher he'll beat me and him to a jelly: you know he
sulks because the teacher is friends with your father."
"Why, that is too bad! What shall we do?"
"Tell the teacher when he comes that he mustn't be angry: but he
mustn't come to our house so much. I can't help it; I can't talk to
him. _I_ wouldn't mind it, if my brother was ever so wicked to _me_,
but he might insult him somewhere, where everybody saw it; and if he
did that I'd cry my eyes out."
"Make yourself easy," replied Agnes: "I won't tell him a word of all
that, anyhow."
"Why not?"
"Why not, you crazy pigeon? Because I don't want him to think that the
Nordstetten girls come running up to you the minute you whistle to
'em."
"He won't think any thing of the kind."
"But I a'n't a-going to run the risk of it. I won't say a word about
you unless he begins. Let me fix it: I'll get him round. Jilly wo gee!
And when he's pretty well buttered up I'll just slither him down a
little, and say, 'Mayhap I might manage to get Hedwig to our house of a
Sunday.' I'll see if the pears come off by shaking."
"Well, you may do as you like: you're your own mistress. But one thing
I beg of you, don't worry him: you see, he's one of that kind of men
that have a deal of thought about every thing; I've found that out well
enough; so he might be sorry, and lose his sleep."
"Why, who told you all that?"
"Oh, I only think he does, and I do so myself sometimes."
"Well, never mind: I won't do him any damage. These teachers are always
examining somebody else, and now I'd just like to see whether he's
smart or not."
"He is smart: I can tell you he is!"
"Well, if he says his lesson well, may I kiss him?"
"Oh, yes."
"Then don't look so solemn: love must be merry and not mawkish. Last
Sunday the parson asked, 'How must we love God?' So I said, right out,
'Merrily.' He smiled at that, and took a pinch of snuff, and said,
'That's right,'--you know that's what he says to any thing, if it isn't
too awful stupid: but, after he has said so, he explains it, and then
it turns out to be something else; and he went on to explain that we
must love God as a child loves its father, with veneration; and then I
said some children loved their fathers merrily, and then he laughed
ever so much, and opened his snuff-box wrong side up, and all the snuff
fell on the floor, and then we all laughed:--
'Always a little merry,
And always a little glad.'"
Thus singing, she wound up her exhortation and dragged Hedwig out into
the garden, where she gathered up the clothes on the grass-plot, to
bring them into the house, telling her that they were intended as a
portion of her outfit.
Next evening the teacher came to Buchmaier's house, as usual; but Agnes
forgot all her intended raillery when the first mention of Hedwig's
name brought a deep shade to his brow, and he frankly told her all his
troubles. She now explained to him the state of parties in the commune.
The College Chap, having married the old squire's daughter, of course
belonged to his party, and therefore regarded any associate of
Buchmaier's as his sworn foe; and his animosity was still further
increased by the election of Mat to the committee of citizens, against
himself,--which he ascribed to Buchmaier's efforts.
"Alack-a-day!" said Agnes, in conclusion, "I had it all cut-and-dry
about going to the harvest-home together. But never mind: the College
Chap isn't smart enough to get ahead of me, and Thaddie must help us
make plans, too."
Against this the teacher protested, to Agnes' great surprise. He
obtained her promise, however, to invite Hedwig to come there, and even
to feign sickness as a pretext, and to remain in-doors all day.