Bräsig went to Rexow that morning to see Mrs. Nüssler as he had
intended. The crown-prince was in the doorway when he arrived, and came
forward to meet him with such a hearty wag of the tail that anyone
would have thought him a most christian-minded dog, and would have
imagined that he had quite forgiven Bräsig the fright he had given him
the last time he was at Rexow. There was a look of such quiet
satisfaction in his yellow brown eyes that one would have thought that
everything was going on well in the house; that Mrs. Nüssler was busy
in the kitchen, and that Joseph was comfortably seated in his own
particular arm-chair. But it was not so. When Bräsig went into the
parlour he certainly found Joseph in his old place, but Mrs. Nüssler
was standing in front of him, and was giving him a lecture about caring
for nothing, and never interfering when things were going wrong,
although it was his duty to do so. As soon as she saw Bräsig, she went
up to him and said angrily: "And _you_ keep out of the way, Bräsig.
Everyone may be standing on their heads here for anything _you_ care,
and it's all your fault that we ever took those two lads into the
house."--"Gently!" said Bräsig. "Gently! Don't excite yourself, Mrs.
Nüssler! Well what's all this about the divinity students?"--"A very
great deal! But I should never have said a word about it, for they're
Joseph's relations, and 'it's an ill bird that files its own nest!'
There has been no peace or comfort in the house since the two young men
have been here, and if it goes on like this much longer, I'm afraid
that I shall have a quarrel with Joseph himself."--"Mother," said young
Joseph, "what can I do?"--"Hold your tongue, young Joseph," cried
Bräsig, "it's all your fault. Why didn't you teach them better
manners?"--"Come, come, Bräsig," said Mrs. Nüssler, "just leave Joseph
to me if you please, and remember it's your fault this time. You
promised to keep an eye on the young men, and see that they didn't get
into mischief, and instead of that, you let one of them do what he
likes and never trouble your head to see what he's after, while you
encourage the other to spend all his time in fishing and such like
nonsense, instead of minding his books, so that he's always out in the
fields, and comes home in the evening with a lot of perch about the
length of my finger, and when I think the day's work is over, I'm
expected to go back to the kitchen and cook that trash!"--"What!" cried
Bräsig. "Does he only bring you in such tiny little fish? That's queer
now, for I've shown him all the best pools for catching large perch.
Then you must .....!--Just wait!"--"I'll tell you," interrupted Mrs.
Nüssler, "you must forbid him to fish, for he didn't come here to do
that. His father sent him here to learn something, and he's coming to
see him this very afternoon."--"Well, Mrs. Nüssler," said Bräsig, "I
can't help admiring the presistency with which he has followed my
advice about fishing. Hasn't he done anything else though?"--"A great
deal, both of them have done a great deal. I've never spoken about it
because they're Joseph's relations, and at first everything went on
_pretty_ well. It was an idle, merry life at first; my two little girls
were very much brightened up by the change and all went on smoothly.
Mina here, and Rudolph there, Lina here, and Godfrey there. They talked
sense with Godfrey and nonsense with Rudolph. The two lads worked away
properly at their books in the morning; Godfrey indeed sometimes read
so long that it gave him a headache, and Rudolph did quite a fair
amount of study. But that did not last long. They soon began to quarrel
and wrangle about theological questions, and Godfrey, who knows more
than the other, said that Rudolph did not speak from a Christian
standpoint."--"Did he say 'standpoint'?" put in Bräsig.--"Yes, that was
his very word," answered Mrs. Nüssler.--"Oho!" said Bräsig. "I think I
hear him. While other people end with standpoint, Methodists always
begin with it. And then I suppose he wanted to convert him?"--"Yes,"
said Mrs. Nüssler. "That's just what he wanted to do. But you see the
other lad is much cleverer than Godfrey, and made so many jokes about
all that he said, that at last Godfrey quite lost his temper, and so
the discomfort in the house grew worse and worse. I don't know how it
was, but my two girls mixed themselves up in the quarrel. Lina who is
the gravest and most sensible took Godfrey's side of the argument, and
Mina laughed and giggled over Rudolph's jokes."--"Yes," interrupted
Joseph, "it's all according to circumstances!"--"You ought to be
ashamed of yourself, young Joseph," said Bräsig, "for allowing such a
Hophnei to remain in the house."--"Nay, Bräsig," said Mrs. Nüssler,
"let Joseph alone, he did his best to make matters comfortable again.
When Godfrey talked about the devil till we all felt quite eerie,
Joseph believed in his existence; and when Rudolph laughed at, and
ridiculed all belief in him, Joseph laughed as heartily as anyone. When
the dispute ran highest, my little Mina took all Godfrey's books to
Rudolph's room, and all Rudolph's to Godfrey's, and when the young men
looked rather cross, she said quickly, that they'd better both study
the subject thoroughly, and then perhaps they might agree better
about it than at present."--"Mina's a clever little woman," cried
Bräsig.--"Well," continued Mrs. Nüssler. "They didn't like it at all at
first; but whatever Godfrey's faults may be, he's a good-natured lad,
so he began to study Rudolph's books. And the other at last set to work
at Godfrey's, for you see it was wintry weather and it gave him
something to do. You should have seen them a short time afterwards!
They had changed as much as their books. Godfrey made poor jokes about
the devil, and Rudolph sighed and groaned, and spoke of the devil as if
he knew him intimately, and as if he were accustomed to sit down to
dinner with us every day and to eat his potatoes like any other honest
man. Then my little girls turned right round. Mina took Godfrey's part;
and Lina took Rudolph's, for Rudolph said that Godfrey didn't speak
from a Christian standpoint."--"Ugh!" said Bräsig, "he oughtn't to have
said that. But wait a bit! Is he really that sort of fellow, and can't
he ever catch a good-sized perch?"--"And then," cried Mrs. Nüssler
indignantly, "they were all at sixes and sevens again, because of that
horrible perch fishing, for as soon as spring returned and the perch
began to bite, Rudolph cared no more about the Christian standpoint. He
took his fishing-rod, and went out after you all day long. The other
went back to his old opinion about the existence of the devil, you see
he was preparing for his examination and couldn't get through it
properly without that. My two girls didn't know which of their cousins
to trust to."--"They're a couple of rascals," cried Bräsig, "but it's
all the Methodist's fault, what business had he to bother the other
about the devil and the Christian standpoint?"--"No, no, Bräsig, I've
nothing to say against him for that. He has learnt something, has
passed his examination, and may be ordained any day. But Rudolph does
nothing at all, he only makes mischief in the house."--"Why, what has
he been after now? Has he been fishing for whitings?" asked Bräsig
raising his eyebrows.--"Whitings!" said Mrs. Nüssler scornfully. "He
has been fishing for a sermon. You must know that, Mrs. Baldrian wanted
to hear her son preach, so she asked the clergyman at Rahnstädt to let
him preach in his church, and he said he might do so. She then went and
told her sister what she had done, and Mrs. Kurz was very much put out
that her son wasn't as far on as his cousin, so she went to the old
parson too and asked him to allow Rudolph to preach for him some day
soon. Well the clergyman was so far left to himself as to arrange that
Rudolph should preach on the same day as Godfrey. The two young men had
a great argument as to which was to have the forenoon and which the
afternoon, but at last it was settled that Rudolph should preach in the
morning. Well, Godfrey set to work as hard as he could, and spent the
whole day from morning till evening in the arbour. As he has a bad
memory he learnt his sermon by repeating it aloud. Rudolph did nothing
but amuse himself as usual, till the two last days, when he seated
himself on the grass bank behind the arbour, and seemed to be thinking
over his sermon. On the Sunday morning, Joseph drove the two young
clergymen and us to Rahnstädt. We went into the parsonage pew, and I
can assure you I was in a great fright about Rudolph, but the rogue
stood there as calmly as if he were quite sure of himself, and when the
time came for him to preach, he went up into the pulpit and began his
sermon. He got on so well that everyone listened attentively, and I was
so pleased with the boy that I turned to whisper to Godfrey, who sat
next to me, how relieved and overjoyed I was, when I saw that he was
moving about restlessly in his seat, and looking as if he would like to
jump up and pull Rudolph out of the pulpit: 'Aunt,' he said, 'that is
_my_ sermon.' And so it was, Bräsig. The little wretch had got it by
heart from hearing his cousin learning it aloud in the arbour."--"Ha,
ha, ha!" laughed Bräsig. "What a joke! What a capital joke!"--"Do you
call it a _joke_?" said Mrs. Nüssler angrily. "Do you call playing a
trick like that in God's house a joke?"--"Ha, ha, ha!" roared Bräsig.
"I know that it's wicked to laugh, and I know that only the devil could
have prompted the lad to play such a trick, but I can't help it, I must
laugh at it all the same."--"Oh, of course," said Mrs. Nüssler crossly,
"of course _you_ do nothing but laugh while we are like to break our
hearts with grief and anger."--"Never mind me," said Bräsig soothingly,
"tell me, what did the Methodist do? Ha, ha, ha! I'd have given a good
deal for a sight of his face!"--"You would, would you? Of course he
couldn't preach the same sermon in the afternoon, so the parson had to
give his people one of his old sermons over again; but he was very
angry, and said that if he chose to make the circumstance public,
Rudolph might go and hang himself on the first willow he came
across."--"But the Methodist?"--"The poor fellow was miserable, but he
didn't say a word. However his mother said enough for two, and she
spoke so harshly to her sister Mrs. Kurz about what had happened, that
they're no longer on speaking terms. There was a frightful quarrel. I
was both ashamed and angry at the way they went on, for both Baldrian
and Kurz joined in the squabble, and even Joseph began to mix himself
up in it, but fortunately our carriage drove up, and I got him away as
quickly as I could."--"What did the duellist say?"--"Oh, the wretch was
wise enough to run away here as soon as he had concluded his stolen
sermon."--"And you gave him a regular good scolding, I suppose," said
Bräsig.--"Not I indeed," said Mrs. Nüssler decidedly. "I wasn't going
to put my finger in that pie. His father is coming to-day and he is
'the nearest' to him, as Mrs. Behrens would say; and I've told Joseph
that he's not to mix himself up in the affair or to talk about it at
all. He's quite changed latterly. He has got into the habit of putting
up his back and meddling with things with which he has nothing to do.
Now just keep quiet, Joseph."--"Yes, Joseph, hold your tongue," said
Bräsig.--"And my two girls," continued Mrs. Nüssler, "are quite
different from what they used to be. Since that unlucky sermon their
eyes have always been red with crying, and they've gone about the house
as quietly as mice. They hardly ever say a word to each other now,
though they used never to be separate, and when one of them was happy
or unhappy the other had to know all about it immediately. My household
is all at odds."--"Mother," said young Joseph rising from his chair
with a look of determination, "that's just what I say, and I _will_
speak; you'll see that the boys have put it into their heads."--"What
have they put into their heads, Joseph?" asked Mrs. Nüsller
crossly.--"Love affairs," said Joseph, sinking back into his corner.
"My dear mother always used to say that when a divinity student and a
governess were in same house ...... And you'll see the truth of it with
Godfrey and Mina."--"Law, Joseph! How you do talk to be sure! May God
preserve you in your right mind! That's all nonsense, but if it were
the case, the divinity student should leave the house at once and
Rudolph too. Come away, Bräsig, I've got something to say to you."
As soon as they had left the house, Mrs. Nüssler signed to Bräsig to
follow her into the garden, and when they were seated in the arbour,
she said: "I can't stand Joseph's eternal chatter any longer, Bräsig.
It was Rudolph who taught him to speak so much continually encouraging
him to talk last winter, and has got into the habit now and won't give
it up. But, tell me honestly--remember you promised to watch--have you
seen anything of the kind going on?"--"Bless me! No. Not the faintest
approach to anything of the sort."--"I can't think it either," said
Mrs. Nüssler thoughtfully. "At first Lina and Godfrey, and Mina and
Rudolph used to go about together. Afterwards Mina took to Godfrey, and
Lina to Rudolph, but ever since the examination Lina and Godfrey have
been on their old terms with each other once more, while Mina and
Rudolph have never made friends again; indeed I may say that she has
never so much as looked at him since the day he preached in
Rahnstädt."--"Ah, Mrs. Nüssler," said Bräsig, "love shows itself in
most unexpected ways. Sometimes the giving of a bunch of flowers is a
sign of it, or even a mere 'good-morning' accompanied by a shake of the
hand. Sometimes it is shown by two people stooping at the same moment
to pick up a ball of cotton that one of them has dropped, when all that
the looker-on sees is that they knocked their heads together in trying
which could pick it up first. But gradually the signs become more
apparent. The girl blushes now and then, and the man watches whatever
she does; or the girl takes the man into the larder, and gives him
sausages, or cold tongue, or pig's cheek, and the man begins to wear a
blue or a red neck-tie; but the surest sign of all is when they go out
on a summer-evening for a walk in the moonlight, and you hear them sigh
without any cause. Now, has anything of that kind been going on with
the little roundheads?"--"No, I can't say that I've noticed them doing
that, Bräsig. They used to go to the cold meat-larder sometimes it's
true, but I soon put an end to that; I wasn't going to stand that
sort of thing; and as for blushing, I didn't notice them doing that
either, though of course I've seen that their eyes are often red with
crying."--"Well," said Bräsig, "there must have been a reason for
that--I'll tell you what, Mrs. Nüssler: you just leave the whole
management of the affair in my hands, for I know how to arrange such
matters. I soon put an end to that sort of nonsense in Fred
Triddelfitz. I'm an old hunter, and I'll ferret the matter out for you,
but you must tell me where they generally meet."--"Here, Bräsig, here
in this arbour. My girls sit here in the afternoon with their work, and
then the other two join them. I never thought any harm of it."--"All
right!" said Bräsig, going out of the arbour, and looking about him. He
examined a large cherry-tree carefully which was growing close by, and
seeing that it was thickly covered with leaves he looked quite
satisfied. "That'll do," he said, "what can be done, shall be
done."--"Goodness, gracious me!" said Mrs. Nüssler, "I wonder what will
happen this afternoon! It's very disagreeable. Kurz is coming at
coffee-time, and he is desperately angry with his son for playing such
a trick on his cousin. You'll see that there will be a terrible
scene."--"That's always the way with these little people," said Bräsig,
"when the head and the lower part of the constitution are too near each
other, the nature is always fiery."--"Ah!" sighed Mrs. Nüssler as she
entered the parlour, "it'll be a miserable afternoon."
She little knew that misery had long ago taken up its abode in her
house.
Whilst these arrangements were being made downstairs the twins were
busy sewing in their garret-room. Lina was seated at one window, and
Mina at the other; they never looked up from their work, and never
spoke to each other as in the old days at Mrs. Behren's sewing-class.
They worked away as busily as if the world had been torn in two, and
they had to sew up the rent with their needles and thread, while their
serious faces and deep sighs showed that they were fully aware of the
gravity of their employment. It was strange that their mother had not
told Bräsig how sadly pale they had grown. The change must have been
very gradual for her not to have noticed it. But so it was. The two
apple-cheeked maidens looked as if they had been growing on the
north-side of the tree of life, where no sun-beams could ever come to
brighten their existence, and tinge their cheeks with healthful colour.
They could no longer be likened to two apples growing on one stalk. At
last Lina's work fell on her lap, she could go on sewing no more, her
eyes were so full of tears, and then large drops began to roll slowly
down her pale cheeks; Mina took out her handkerchief and wiped her
eyes, for her tears were falling upon her work, and so the two little
sisters sat weeping each in her own window, as if all her happiness
were gone past recall.
Suddenly Mina jumped up, and ran out of the room as if she must go out
into the fresh air, but she stopped short on the landing, for she
remembered that her mother might see her and ask her what was the
matter, so she remained outside the door crying silently. And then Lina
started up to go and comfort Mina; but she suddenly remembered that she
did not know what to say to her, so she remained standing within the
room beside the door, crying also. It often happens that a thin wall of
separation rises between two loving hearts, and while each would give
anything to get back to the other, neither will be the first to turn
the handle--for in every such partition wall there is a door with a
handle on each side of it--and so they remain apart in spite of their
longing to be reconciled.
But fortunately the twins were not so selfishly proud as to allow this
state of matters to go on for ever. Mina opened the door, and said:
"Why are you crying, Lina?" and Lina immediately stretched out both
hands to her sister, and said: "Oh, Mina, why are you crying?" Then
they fell upon each other's necks and cried again, and the colour
returned to their cheeks as if a sunbeam had kissed them, and they
clung to each other as if they were once more growing on the same
stalk.--"Mina, I will let you have him. You must be happy," said
Lina.--"No, Lina," said Mina, "he likes you most, and you are much
better than I am."--"No, Mina. I've quite made up my mind. Uncle Kurz
is coming this afternoon, and I'll ask father and mother to let
me go home with him, for I couldn't remain here and see it all just
yet."--"Do so, Lina, for then you'll be with his parents, and when you
both come back, I'll ask Godfrey to get his father to look out for a
situation for me as governess in some town far, far from home, for I
couldn't stay here either."--"Mina!" cried Lina, holding her sister
from her at arm's length, and looking at her in amazement, "with
_his_ parents? With _whose_ parents?"--"Why--Rudolph's."--"You
meant Rudolph?"--"Yes, why who did you mean?"--"I?--Oh, I meant
Godfrey."--"No, did you really?" exclaimed Mina, throwing her arms
round Lina's neck, "but is it possible? How is it possible? We don't
mean the same after all then!"--"Ah!" said Lina who was the most
sensible of the two, "what a great deal of unnecessary pain we have
given each other!"--"Oh, how happy I am," cried Mina, who was the least
sensible, as she danced about the room. "All will be well now."--"Yes,
Mina," said Lina the sensible, joining in the dance. "Everything will
go on happily now."--Then silly little Mina threw herself into her
sister's arms again--she was so happy.
If people would only turn the handle of the door that divides them from
their friends while there is yet time, all would go well with them,
even though it might not bring such intense joy as it did to the two
girls in the little garret-room.
The sisters cried one moment and laughed the next; then they danced
round the room, and after that they sat on each other's knees, and told
how it all happened, and sorrowed over their own stupidity, which had
prevented them seeing the true state of the case. They wondered how it
was that they had not had an explanation sooner, and then they
confessed to each other exactly how matters stood between them and
their cousins, and ended by being more than half angry with the two
young men, whom they accused of being the real cause of the
misunderstanding. Lina said that she had been in great doubt before,
but that ever since last Sunday she had been quite certain that Mina
cared for Godfrey because of her constant tears; and Mina said that she
had been miserable because of the wicked trick Rudolph had played in
church about the sermon, and that she had been puzzled to account for
Lina's tears. Lina then explained that she had been so very sorry for
poor Godfrey's disappointment. All was made up now between the sisters,
and when the dinner-bell rang they ran down-stairs together arm in arm,
looking as sweet and fresh as two roses. Bräsig, who had seated himself
with his back to the light that he might see them better, was very much
astonished when he caught sight of their happy faces. "What," he said
to himself, "these two girls changed and shy, and suffering from some
secret grief? In love? Not a bit of it! They're as merry as crickets."
The sound of the dinner-bell brought Godfrey Baldrian, or the
methodist, as Bräsig called him. Lina blushed and turned away from him,
not in anger, but because she remembered the confession she had just
made in the garret. And Bräsig said to himself "That's very odd now!
Lina seems to have taken the infection, but how can she care for a
scare-crow of a methodist?"--Bräsig expressed himself too strongly but
still it must be acknowledged that Godfrey was no beauty. Nature had
not given him many personal advantages, and he did not use those that
he had in the wisest possible way. For example his hair. He had a thick
head of yellow hair that would have provoked no criticism, and indeed
would have looked quite nice if it had only been cut properly, but
unfortunately he had taken the pictures of the Beloved disciple John as
his model, and had parted his hair down the middle, and brushed it into
ringlets at the ends, though the upper part of his head showed that the
real nature of his hair was to be straight. I have nothing to say
against little boys of ten or even twelve going about with curls, and
the mothers of these same little boys would have still less objection
to it than I should, for they delight in stroking the curls lovingly
out of their children's faces, and in combing them out smooth when
visitors come to the house. Some mother have even gone so far, when
their children's hair did not curl naturally as to screw it up in paper
or use tongs, but that was a mistake on their part. If it were the
fashion, I should have nothing to say against even old people wearing
curls, for it looks very nice in some ancient pictures, but there are
two remarks I should like to make while on this subject, and these are:
a man with thin legs ought never to wear tight trousers, and he whose
hair does not curl naturally should cut it short. Our poor Godfrey's
hair, which hung down his back, was burnt to a sort of dun colour by
the sun, and as he liked it to look smooth and tidy, he put a good deal
of pomade on it, which greased his coat-collar considerably. Beneath
this wealth of hair was a small pale face with an expression of
suffering on it, which always made Bräsig ask sympathisingly what
shoemaker he employed, and whether he was troubled with corns. The
rest of his figure was in keeping with his face. He was tall,
narrow-chested, and angular, and that part of the human body which
shows whether a man enjoys the good things of life, was altogether
wanting in him. Indeed he was so hollowed out where the useful and
necessary digesting apparatus is wont to show its existence by a gentle
roundness of form, that he might be said to be shaped like the inside
of Mrs. Nüssler's baking-trough. For this reason Bräsig regarded him as
a sort of wonder in natural history, for he eat as much as a ploughman
without producing any visible effect. Let no one imagine that the
methodist did not do his full duty in the way of eating and drinking; I
have known divinity students, and know some now, with whom I should
have no chance in that respect. But the fact is that young men whose
minds are employed in theological studies are generally somewhat thin,
as will be seen in any of the numerous divinity students to be met with
in Mecklenburg; when they have been settled in a good living for a few
years, they begin to fill out like ordinary mortals. Bräsig remembered
this, and did not despair of seeing Godfrey a portly parson one of
these days, though how it was to come about was rather a puzzle to him.
Such was Godfrey Baldrian in appearance; but his portrait would not be
complete if I did not add that he had the faintest possible tinge of
Phariseeism in his expression. It was only a tinge, but with
Phariseeism as with rennet, a very small quantity is enough to curdle a
large pan of milk.
They sat down to dinner, and Joseph asked: "Where is
Rudolph?"--"Goodness gracious me, Joseph, what are you talking about!"
said Mrs. Nüssler crossly. "I'm sure you might know by this time that
Rudolph is always late. I daresay he's out fishing; but whatever he's
about I can assure him that if he doesn't come in in time for dinner,
he may just go without."--The meal was a very silent one, for Bräsig
was too much occupied watching what was going on to be able to talk,
and Mrs. Nüssler had enough to do wondering over the cause of the
remarkable change in her daughters' appearance. The twins sat side by
side, and looked as happy as if they had just awakened from a
disagreeable dream, and were rejoicing that it was only a dream, and
that the warm sun-beams were once more shining upon them.