Towards the middle of the afternoon Kurz, the general-merchant, and
Baldrian, the rector of the academy, set out for Rexow. Kurz very soon
repented having asked the rector to accompany him, for it is an
extremely uncomfortable thing for a short man to have a long-legged
friend as companion in a walk. As they went along the road, the rector
said jestingly that their way of walking made a capital verse of the
kind the Romans loved, and which they called a dactyle, for they went
long, short short; long, short short. This witticism made Kurz angry,
for he regarded it as a reflection on his legs, and on his power of
walking, so he tried hard to lengthen his steps.--"Now we are making a
spondee," said the rector.--"Do me the favour, brother-in-law," said
Kurz angrily, and gasping for breath, "not to thrust your learning down
my throat; I'm too hot to bear it"--Then he passed his handkerchief
over his heated face, took off his coat and hung it over his
walking-stick. Kurz's principal trade was that of druggist, but he also
dealt in drapery and other goods, and as in this latter branch of trade
there were always remnants left of various materials, he found his
short stature very convenient in using up any odd pieces of cloth that
might be left on his hands. About a year and a half before this when
clearing his shop of old and useless goods, he found a remnant of stuff
that had once been in fashion for ladies' cloaks, the pattern of which
was a giraffe browsing on a tall palm-tree. He considered the piece of
cloth too good to throw away, and as he could not induce any one to buy
it, he had it made into a summer-coat for himself. And now he walked
along the Rexow road carrying it like a banner, as if he were the
youngest ensign in the army of a small German prince, whose coat of
arms was a giraffe and a palm-tree. Rector Baldrian stalked on by his
side in a yellow nankin-coat, and looked as if he were the leader of
the right wing of the same prince's bodyguard, always supposing that
the said prince had chosen to dress his body-guard in yellow nankin for
a little change.
"Bless me!" said Mrs. Nüssler, who was in the parlour, "Kurz is
bringing the rector with him."--"So he is," answered Bräsig, "but he
won't be much in our way this afternoon, for I intend to interrupt him
whenever I see fit."--They were both afraid, and not unreasonably so,
of Baldrian's love of making long speeches.
The two visitors now came into the room, and the rector began to talk
about his pleasure in seeing his old friends again, and told them how
he had embraced the opportunity of Kurz's going to Rexow to accompany
him as he could not have a better excuse. Bräsig answered shortly that
his long legs were the best excuse he could have for the walk, and then
turned away from him. As Mrs. Nüssler was busy talking to Kurz the
rector had to content himself with addressing the rest of his remarks
to Joseph, who listened to the stream of words with the most
praiseworthy attention, and when it ceased, merely said: "How-d'ye-do,
brother-in-law; won't you sit down."--Kurz was in a bad humour.
Firstly, because he wanted to give his son a scolding; secondly,
because Baldrian had nearly walked him off his legs; and thirdly,
because he had got a slight chill from taking off his coat, and was
suffering from hiccough. His bad temper, however, was nothing unusual,
for he had almost always something to displease him. He was a radical,
not with regard to the affairs of the state, for such people were then
unknown in Mecklenburg, but as far as the municipal government of the
town in which he lived was concerned. He had long made it the task of
his life to get the charge of the town-jail out of the hands of the
long-nosed baker who was so shamefully favoured by the mayor. He gasped
and hiccoughed, and his heated face crowned with stubbly grey hair
might, without too great a stretch of imagination, be likened to a
freshly cut spiced ham that had been thickly strewed with pepper and
salt on the top. The resemblance was incomplete in one particular, for
there was no knife to be seen, but Bräsig took care to put that right.
He went to the knife-basket, took a sharp dinner-knife out of it,
and going up to the spiced ham, said: "Come, Kurz, sit down there
for a moment."--"What do you want?" asked Kurz.--"To show my
sympathy for your hiccough. Now, Keep your eyes fixed on the sharp
edge of the knife. I shall bring the edge of the knife nearer and
nearer to you, so; but you must be frightened or it will do no good.
Nearer--and--nearer, as if I wanted to stab you on the nose. Nearer
and--nearer till I almost touch your eyes."--"Hang it!" cried Kurz,
springing to his feet "Do you mean to put out my eyes?"--"Capital!"
said Bräsig. "Capital! I've given you a fright, and that ought to have
cured you."--It really had the effect of sending away his hiccough, but
did not lessen his ill-humour.--"Where's my son?" he asked. "I've got a
crow to pick with him. Ah, brother-in-law," he went on, turning to
Joseph, "I've had enough to anger me. There's my son here; then at the
court-house about the management of the jail; at home with my wife
because of that silly affair of the sermon; in the shop with a stupid
apprentice, who when asked for a penny-weight of black silk-thread gave
the customer half an ounce instead! And again on the road here with the
rector's long legs."--"Mother," said young Joseph, pushing a coffee-cup
nearer his wife, "give Kurz some coffee."--"Oh, brother-in-law," said
Mrs. Nüssler, "there's plenty of time for all that. Let us talk over
the matter quietly first, and don't speak to the boy about what he did
until your anger has cooled a little, or you will only be pouring oil
on the flames."--"I'll ...." began Kurz passionately, but he got no
further, for at the same moment the door opened, and Godfrey came in.
Godfrey looked unusually solemn as he went up to his father and wished
him good-day. His pompous manner, and the severe gravity of his
deportment were enough to make one imagine, that his patron saint had
taken care to clothe him in unapproachable dignity, that he might the
more easily keep himself unspotted from the world.--"How-d'ye-do, papa.
I hope you are well," he said giving his father a kiss in the hollow of
his cheek, which the latter returned by making a kiss in the air
thereby reminding one of a carp when he puts his head out of the water.
"How is mama just now?" the son continued, for Godfrey had been taught
to say "papa and mama" from his earliest years, because though the
rector thought it quite right and proper for tradesmen's children to
call their parents "father and mother," he did not consider it seemly
that the children of well educated people should do so. Kurz was always
indignant at "such affectation," for his son of course said "father and
mother"--"How-d'ye-do, uncle," continued Godfrey addressing Kurz, "and
how are you, Mr. bailiff Bräsig," then turning to his father he went
on: "I am particularly glad that you have come to-day, for I want to
speak to you about a matter of the deepest interest to myself."--"Aha!"
said Bräsig to himself. "He's making a good beginning."
The rector went out into the yard with his son, and Bräsig placed
himself in the window that he might watch them. Mrs. Nüssler came up to
him and said: "Well, Bräsig, have you found out anything this afternoon
with regard to my children?"--"Don't be anxious, Mrs. Nüssler, the
mystery is unravelled."--"What do you mean?" cried Mrs. Nüssler. "What
have you discovered?"--"You'll soon hear what it is, for look put
there, that has got something to do with it. Why do you think that the
rector shakes hands with and embraces the Methodist so warmly? Is it
because of his Christian faith? No, I will tell you why. It is because
you are such a good manager."--Bräsig had as great a knowledge of human
nature and of the human heart as if he had been a soothsayer, but like
all soothsayers he spoke darkly, and so Mrs. Nüssler was unable to
understand what he meant. "But," she exclaimed, "why does he embrace
Godfrey because I am a good manager?"--Bräsig had another fault in
common with all soothsayers and that was that he never answered a
direct question unless it suited him to do so. "Look!" he said. "Why
does he give his son his blessing? Is it not because he knows
that money can buy everything that a man can desire, and that
there is plenty of it here?"--"But what has that got to do with my
children?"--"You'll soon see. Look! The Methodist is going away now,
just watch his father. Preserve us all! He's preparing a speech, and
it's sure to be a long one, for everything about him is long,
especially his cer'monious politeness."--When the rector came in he
proved what a good judge of human nature Bräsig was, for no sooner had
he entered the room than he began: "Ladies and gentlemen, a wise man of
old gave utterance to this incontestable proposition, that that
household is to be regarded as the happiest in which peace and comfort
are to be found. That is the case here. I have not come to disturb your
peace--my worthy brother-in-law Kurz may do as he likes--I have come
here by chance, but chance is often only another name for destiny, and
it sometimes leads us without our knowledge to the most important
events of our lives. Such has been the case to-day. This chance may
lead to good or it may lead to ill, but as I do not wish to say too
much just now, I will allude to this part of the subject no more for
the present. Dear brother-in-law Joseph, I address myself to you as the
real head of this happy family"--Joseph stared at him in as blank
amazement as if the rector had said that he was the autocrat of all the
Russias, and that he ought by rights to sit on a throne in the royal
palace at Moscow--"Yes," repeated the rector, "I address myself to you
as the _real_ head of the family, and you will, I am sure, pardon me if
I also turn to my dear sister-in-law, who has ever conducted the
affairs of her own immediate circle with so much wisdom and love that
the blessed effects of her rule have extended themselves to other
families, related to her's by the ties of consanguinity--I allude more
particularly to the kind reception my son Godfrey met with here and
which has been of the greatest possible advantage to him.--You, my dear
brother-in-law Kurz, also belong to the family, at least on the female
side, through--but we will say no more about that in this happy
hour--suffice it to say that I know you will rejoice with me in my joy.
But now," approaching Bräsig, "'[Greek: pos t' ar' io, ton prostuxomai
auton?]' which signifies: How shall I address you, Mr. bailiff Bräsig?
for though you cannot be called a member of the family in the strict
sense of the word, yet you have always been so helpful in deed, and so
wise in counsel ...."--"If that's the case," interrupted Bräsig, "I'll
give you some good advice now. If you don't keep a better hold of the
reins you'll never get to the end."--"End!" ejaculated the rector,
whose inborn sanctimoniousness was only covered by a thin crust of
scholastic pedantry. "End!" he repeated, raising his eyes to heaven.
"Will it lead to a good or a bad end? Who can tell what the end will
be?"--"I can," answered Bräsig, "for I heard the beginning in that
confounded cherry-tree this afternoon. The end is that the Methodist
will marry our Lina."
What an uproar there was!--"Goodness gracious me!" cried Mrs. Nüssler.
"Godfrey!--our child!"--"Yes," said the rector, who now that he had
been stopped in his harangue stood before them with much the same dazed
expression as Klein the engineer at Stavenhagen had worn, when on
trying some engines to see whether they would answer, a pipe burst
unexpectedly and his glory was suddenly eclipsed.--Kurz started up,
exclaiming: "The rascal! Godfrey evidently thinks no small beer of
himself!"--And Joseph also rose, but more slowly, and asked: "Was it
Mina you said, Bräsig?"--"No, young Joseph, only Lina," answered Bräsig
quietly.--"So you knew all about it, Bräsig, and yet you never told
me," said Mrs. Nüssler reproachfully.--"Oh, I know more than that," he
replied, "but why should I have told you? It could make no difference
whether you knew it a quarter of an hour sooner or later, and besides
that, I thought it would have been a pleasant surprise for you."--"Here
he is," said the rector, bringing Godfrey in from the front hall where
he had been awaiting the result of the interview, "and he relies on
your kindness for a favourable decision."
Godfrey's manner was so totally different from what it had been a short
time before that he looked like another man. He had got rid of his
pomposity and look of self-sufficiency, for he was too thoroughly in
earnest at that moment to put on any little airs, and was contented to
show himself as he really was, namely, a man full of doubt and hope, of
fear and love; in short, a human being and not a machine. And assuredly
true love is in itself so beautiful, being one of the deepest and
tenderest feelings of humanity, that he could not have made it more
beautiful by retaining his grave clerical manner. Godfrey had not felt
this to be the case at first, but now his love had gained such power
over him that he told Mrs. Nüssler and Joseph his tale so simply and
naturally, that Bräsig said to himself: "What a change there is in that
young fellow! If Lina has improved him so much in this short time,
there are great hopes for the future. He may become a very pleasant,
agreeable man in course of time."
Mrs. Nüssler listened silently to what Godfrey had to say for himself.
Although she really liked her nephew, she did not feel at all sure that
she could give him her daughter, and was very much puzzled and
distressed. "Good gracious, Godfrey," she at last exclaimed, "I know
that you are a good lad, and that you've been working hard for your
examination, but ....." Here she was interrupted by her husband for the
first time in her life. As soon as Joseph understood that it was not
Mina he became calm, and sat down again; he collected his thoughts
while Godfrey was speaking, and when he saw all eyes fixed on him he
determined to speak, and so interrupting his wife, he said: "Ah,
Godfrey, it all depends upon circumstances. I will do my duty as father
of the family. If my wife gives her consent, so do I, and if Lina gives
her consent, I will do so too."--"Bless me, Joseph!" cried Mrs.
Nüssler. "What on earth are you saying? _Do_ be quiet. I must speak to
my daughter first. I must hear what she says before anything is
settled."--And she hastened from the room.
They had not to wait long till she came back with Lina, and followed by
Mina and Rudolph, who probably intended making their confession when
they saw that matters were going smoothly with the other two. Lina
blushed as red as a rose when, letting go her mother's hand, she
returned Godfrey's kiss, and then threw herself into her mother's arms.
After that she seated herself on her father's knee, and tried to give
him a kiss, but could not for coughing, and no wonder, for Joseph in
his excitement was smoking as if for a wager, so she only said:
"Father," and he answered: "Lina." When she got up Bräsig was standing
at her side, and he patted her shoulder, and said: "Never mind, Lina,
I'll give you a present too."--Godfrey now came up to her, and taking
her by the hand led her up to his father, who stooped down so low to
give her a paternal embrace, that the others all thought he wanted to
pick a hair-pin off the floor. The rector then prepared to make another
speech, but Bräsig put a stop to it by drumming "The old Dessauer" so
loud on the window-pane that no one could hear a single word, and as he
drummed he stared out of the window as fixedly as if the way the
sunlight fell on the fruit-trees in Joseph's garden were particularly
worthy of his attention. He was thinking of the apple-tree which might
have been his, long, long ago, but which Joseph had planted in his own
garden, while he had had to look on. But in spite of that he had always
taken as great care of the tree as if it had been his, had tended it,
and watched over it. And the tree had borne fruit, two round rosy
apples, which as time went on grew ripe and beautiful in his eyes, and
then two boys saw them, climbed over the wall, and one of them plucked
an apple and put it in his pocket, while the other prepared to follow
his example. Well, well, boys are boys, and apples and boys always go
together. He knew that, and had often told himself that it would come
to pass sooner or later, but it made him sad to think that the care of
the little apple-cheeked maidens was passing out of his hands, and he
could not yet bring himself to consent to give his little round-heads
up to other people, so he drummed more vehemently than before on the
window.
Kurz here blew his nose so loudly that one might be pardoned for
thinking he wanted to blow a trumpet in accompaniment to Bräsig's drum.
He did not do it however because his feelings were touched by what was
going on, but because he was very angry. He felt as much out of place
in this quiet scene of domestic happiness, as a fifth wheel in a
carriage, but as he knew that good manners required him to congratulate
his relations, he advanced to do so with a forced smile which made him
look as if he were eating a plum pickled in vinegar. He passed his son
Rudolph without even glancing at him, and made his civil speeches to
the right hand and to the left with the worst possible grace. When he
reached the rector he could restrain himself no longer, for the thought
of his son's misdeeds overwhelmed him, and he turned to Rudolph,
saying: "Ar'n't you ashamed of yourself?" Then to the others: "Pardon
me, but this business must be settled first--Ar'n't you ashamed of
yourself? Hav'n't you cost me more money than Godfrey ever cost his
father? Have you learnt anything? Tell me what you have learnt."--"Dear
brother-in-law," said the rector, laying his hand on Kurz's head as
kindly as if he had been a little boy, and had done his latin exercise
well, "he can't tell you all that he has learnt at a moment's
notice."--"What!" cried Kurz, jerking his head from under the rector's
hand. "Did _you_ bring me here, or was it I who brought you? I
think that I brought you, and so have a right to have my business
done."--"Ar'n't you ashamed of yourself?" he cried, turning again to
Rudolph. "Look, there's Godfrey. He has passed his examination, and is
engaged to a pretty girl--and a nice girl too," here he made a bow
which he intended for Lina, but in his excitement he directed it to
Mrs. Nüssler. "He may get a church to-morrow," bowing to Bräsig instead
of Godfrey, "whilst you--whilst you--have gone about fighting, and have
done nothing. You have also contracted debts, but I won't pay them,"
and then although no one had contradicted him, he repeated: "I won't
pay them! No, I won't pay them!" After which he joined Bräsig at the
window, and began to help him to drum.
Poor Rudolph stood on thorns during this address. It is true that he
was naturally of an easy going disposition, and that he generally took
his father's admonitions as they were intended, for let no one imagine
Kurz meant all he said when he was angry with his son. No. It was that
he loved his boy so dearly, he could not bear to acknowledge that the
rector's son had done so much better than he had. But although Rudolph
was quite aware that that was the case, he felt hurt and angry with his
father for having taken him to task before so many witnesses, and if
his eyes had not fallen on Mina, he would have said some of the bitter
words which rushed to his lips. Mina was very pale, and was trembling
violently in her intense sympathy for him, who since that afternoon,
was bone of her bone, and flesh of her flesh, and Rudolph seeing it
swallowed down the hasty words he was about to have uttered, feeling
for the first time that he must no longer be swayed by impulse, but
read in Mina's eyes her opinion of his every action. And I think that
is one of the greatest blessings true love brings to the young.
"Father," he said after he had regained his self-command, and then
unheeding the grave faces round him, he went up to his father and laid
his hand on his shoulder, "Come, father! I've done with silly tricks
and practical jokes from this time forward."--Kurz went on drumming on
the glass, and Bräsig ceased to do it. "Father," Rudolph went on,
"you're quite right to be displeased with me, I know that I deserve it,
but ...."--"_Do_ stop that confounded drumming," said Bräsig, pushing
Kurz's hand down.--"Father," continued Rudolph, seizing his father's
hand, "let all be forgiven and forgotten!"---"No," said Kurz, thrusting
both his hands into his pockets.--"What!" cried Bräsig, "you won't do
that? I know quite well that nobody has any business to interfere
between a father and son, but all the same I intend to interfere, for
it's your own fault that the dispute is such a public one. Do you mean
to tell me that you won't forgive and forget your own son's folly?
Don't you remember sending me that nasty sweet Prussian kümmel long
ago? And didn't I forgive you, and go on dealing with you, and paying
my debts honourably?"--"I have always served you honestly," answered
Kurz.--"Oh, indeed!" said Bräsig sarcastically, "when you sold me that
pair of trousers for instance? Young Joseph, you remember them, and can
bear me witness how they changed colour."--"Pshaw! That stupid story of
yours about the trousers," cried Kurz. "You've talked about them often
enough, and ...."--"Well, you know, them," interrupted Bräsig. "Now
confess. Wasn't it pure wickedness on your part to let me take them,
when you knew they would turn red, and yet, have I not forgiven and
forgotten? That's to say I hav'n't forgotten, for I've a distinct
recollection of the whole affair. And you needn't forget the young man,
you need only forgive him."--"Dear brother-in-law," began the rector,
who thought it incumbent on him to preach peace as he had formerly been
a clergyman, but Kurz stopped him short, and said: "Say no more for
pity sake! You're engaged to a pretty girl, and will soon get a
living--I mean that your son Godfrey will--while we--we--have learnt
nothing, and so will never have a chance of either!" And so saying he
began to walk rapidly up and down the room.--"Father," cried Rudolph,
"listen to me."--"Yes," said Mrs. Nüssler whose heart was sore for the
lad; then going up to Kurz she took him by the arm, and went on, "you
must and shall listen to what he has to say, for although that was a
very wrong and silly trick he played about the sermon--and no one could
have been more angry with him than I was--still he is a dear good boy,
and many a father would be proud of having such a son."--"Very well,"
replied Kurz, "I will hear what he has to say." Placing himself
opposite his son, and sticking his thumbs in the arm-holes of his
waist-coat, he went on: "What have you to say? Go on. What have you to
say for yourself?"--Rudolph looked entreatingly but firmly at his
father as he answered: "Dear father, I know that you will be sorry, but
I can't help it, I cannot be a clergyman, and I intend to be a farmer."
It is said that bears are taught to dance by being put on a heated iron
floor, where they are obliged to keep jumping about continually to
prevent their feel being burnt. On hearing his son's words, Kurz began
to dance round Rudolph as spasmodically as if the devil had heated Mrs.
Nüssler's parlour floor, as the bear keepers are in the habit of doing.
"Well, this is delightful!" he said at every jump he gave. "The nicest
thing I ever heard. My son, after having cost me so much money, after
having had such an excellent education wants to be a farmer! a
clod-breaker! a country-bumpkin! a lout!"--"Young Joseph," cried
Bräsig, "shall we allow that to pass? Get up, young Joseph! Sir!" he
continued going up to Kurz. "Do _you_, a mere herring-dealer, a seller
of molasses, dare to look down upon us farmers? Sir, do you know what
we are? We are the backbone of the nation. If we did not exist, and did
not give you employment, you tradesmen would have to go about the
country with packs on your backs. And yet you think that your son has
had too good an education to be a farmer! You sometimes say that he has
learnt too much, and then again you say that he has not learnt enough,
just as it suits you. Sir, do you really think--come here and stand
beside me, Joseph--do you think that it is necessary for a man to be a
fool or an ass before he can be a good farmer?"--"Dear brother-in-law,"
began the rector once more.--"Do you wish to kill me with your long
speeches?" snapped Kurz. "You've shorn your lamb; I came here to shear
my black sheep, and everyone falls upon me and wants to shear me
instead."--"Now, Kurz," said Mrs. Nüssler, "do try to be sensible. What
can't be cured must be endured. If Rudolph doesn't want to be a
clergyman, he is the 'nearest' as Mrs. Behrens would say, and ought to
be the best judge. It seems to me that if he is only a good man, it
doesn't matter whether he preaches or ploughs."--"Father," said
Rudolph, seeing that the old man appeared to be impressed by what he
had heard, "do give your consent, you don't know how much the happiness
of my life depends upon it."--"Who'll teach you?" asked Kurz still
crossly. "No one I'll be bound!"--"That's my affair," said Bräsig, "I
know a man, who'll do it. Hilgendorf in Tetzleben, who understands the
most learned the'ries in agriculture, and who has made some great
scholars into good practical farmers. He once had a poet amongst his
pupils, who used to write verses under the hedge, and who, instead of
saying that the sun had risen, used to say that Aurora was looking down
upon the fields and meadows. Then, when he wanted to describe how the
black storm clouds were rising, he said that cloud citadels were being
piled up in the western heavens, and instead of saying that it was
dropping, he used to say that a few drops of rain were falling
softly from the sky. But in spite of all this Hilgendorf succeeded
in making the poet a useful member of society. Rudolph must go to
him."--"Yes," answered Kurz, "he shall go to him, but I will tell
Hilgendorf ...."--"Tell him whatever you like father," said Rudolph,
seizing his father's hand, "but there's one thing I want to ask
you ...."--"Stop! Stop!" cried Kurz. "I know you're going to speak of
your debts, but don't tell me about them to-day. I've had enough to
bear with hearing that you're going to be a mere country bumpkin. I
won't pay them I tell you," pushing his son away from him as he
spoke.--"And you shan't have to do it, father," said Rudolph drawing
himself up to his full height, and looking at the old gentleman, with
an expression of such manly determination that all eyes were fixed on
him. "You shan't have to do it. I have contracted new obligations today
and have sworn to myself that I will fulfil them at any cost. This is
the person to whom I am indebted," he continued, going up to Mina, who
had hidden her face on her sister's shoulder at the beginning of the
quarrel, and who felt as if the Last Judgment had begun. He put his arm
round her waist, and went on: "And if I'm ever good for anything, you
must thank her for it--it will all be her doing," his eyes filled with
tears as he spoke, "and she has promised to be my wife."--"The young
rascal!" said Bräsig passing the back of his hand across his eyes, then
taking his former place in the window he began to drum "the old
Dessauer" once more, and he was the only one who was able to make music
on the occasion.--The others all stood as though they had been turned
to stone.--"Goodness gracious me!" Mrs. Nüssler at last exclaimed.
"What does all this mean?"--"What?" cried Joseph. "Did he say,
Mina?"--"Mercy on us, Joseph!" interrupted Mrs. Nüssler. "I wish you'd
be quiet. Mina, tell me what it means."--But Mina looked so white and
still as she stood there, her head resting on Rudolph's shoulder, that
it seemed as if she would never raise it, and never speak again.--Kurz
had grasped the whole meaning of the situation in a moment, and before
speaking did up a couple of sums in addition in his head. He was so
much pleased with the result of his calculation of Joseph's savings
that he began to dance again, but no longer like a polar bear; no, this
time he resembled a red Indian dancing his war-dance in sign of victory
while Bräsig supplied the music. Rector Baldrian's face was the only
one that remained calm and composed during all this excitement, and his
expression was as inscrutable as my own when I look into a Hebrew
Bible.--"What is it? What does it mean? What is all this?" cried Mrs.
Nüssler throwing herself into a chair. "My two children! Both my little
girls on one and the same day! And didn't you promise me," she said,
turning suddenly upon Bräsig, "that you would be on the watch?"--"Did I
not watch, Mrs. Nüssler," remonstrated Bräsig, "till all my bones
ached? But misfortunes never come single, and who can prevent
them? What do you say, Joseph?"--"I say nothing, but my dear mother
always used to say that a candidate for the ministry, and a
governess....."--"Joseph," cried Mrs. Nüssler, "you're talking me to
death! You've learnt to chatter since that wretched Rudolph came to the
house."--"What a fool you were not to tell me before," said Kurz to his
son as he danced round him and Mina, "I would have forgiven you long
ago for the sake of the dear little daughter-in-law you're giving me."
As he said this he took Mina's face between his hands and kissed
her.--"Mercy me!" exclaimed Mrs. Nüssler. "Kurz is calling her his
daughter-in-law, and kissing her, and yet his son has nothing to do,
and Mina is such an inexperienced little thing!"--"Oh?" asked Bräsig.
"You mean because she's the youngest? Come away with me, I want to
speak to you in private for a moment," and he drew her away to a corner
of the room where they both stood still and stared into the match-box
which was hanging on the wall. "Mrs. Nüssler," he said, "what's right
for one is equally right for the other. You've given Lina your
blessing, why won't you give it to Mina also? It's quite true that
she's the most inexperienced of the two because she's the youngest, but
Mrs. Nüssler you must rec'lect that the difference in age between twins
is so small that it's hardly worth counting. You have agreed to give
your daughter to the Methodist, although the devil alone knows how he
will treat her--none of us can tell, for neither you nor I nor Joseph
have ever studied for the priesthood--while the duellist--didn't you
notice how determined he looked, as if he would defend Mina against the
whole world--is a capital young fellow. And more than that, he's going
to be a farmer, so we can look after him, and you, Hawermann and I, and
even Joseph if he chooses, can keep him up to the mark. There's another
thing I want to say, Mrs. Nüssler, and that is, I always thought that
Joseph would grow to understand things better as he grew older, but he
doesn't. No, he doesn't, and so you may look: upon the lad as the best
son-in-law you could have had, and quite a blessing to you, for you see
that we are getting old, and if I were to die--not that I'm going to do
so just yet--it would be a great comfort to me to know that you had
some one belonging to you, who could take care of you."--When he had
finished speaking Bräsig continued to stare into the match-box, and
Mrs. Nüssler threw her arm round his neck and gave him the first kiss
he had ever had from her, then she said gently and quietly: "Bräsig if
you really think it right, I'm sure that it can't be against the will
of God."--Many an arbour has been the scene of a more passionate kiss
than that one, but if the old match-box in the corner could have spoken
I do not think that it would have changed places with it.
Mrs. Nüssler turned, and going to Rudolph, said: "Rudolph I will say no
more against it; I consent." She took Mina in her arms and then drew
Lina to her, so that the twins were clasped together in her embrace as
they used to be when they were children; she called them by the old pet
names she had given them long ago, and yet everything was quite
different to-day from what it had been then. In that old time she had
given them all they had, and now she had to receive from them; but hope
is not to be overcome, like the bee it makes its way into every flower
and helps itself to the honey it contains.
Meanwhile Bräsig was pacing the room with long strides; he held his
nose very high in the air, blowing it loudly every now and then, arched
his eyebrows, and pointed his feet straight out to the right and left
with as much dignity as if he were the father of the two girls, and
their forgiveness lay in his hands. As he walked up and down the
picture of a beautiful young woman came to his remembrance, he saw her
as once of old, her head crowned with a garland of ferns and yellow
corn-flowers, and he thought how well they suited the quiet loving
eyes. She seemed to take him by the hand, to lead him gently to the
mother and children, and laying his hands upon their heads to whisper:
"Never mind, they belong to you too."
Rudolph went up to Godfrey, held out his hand and said: "You're not
angry with me now, are you Godfrey?"--And Godfrey pressing his cousin's
hand warmly, replied: "How can you think so, dear brother. Forgiveness
is a Christian duty."--The rector coughed preparatory to making another
speech, and Kurz caught him by the coat tails and entreated him not to
meddle with the affair.--It was then that Joseph's absence was
discovered.--"Where was he?"--"Goodness gracious me!" cried Mrs. Nüssler
suddenly. "What's become of my Joseph?"--"Bless me! Where's Joseph?"
asked all the others, but Bräsig was the first who thought of going in
search of him. He hastened out of the front door into the yard,
shouting: "Joseph!" and then he ran to the back door and called:
"Joseph!" On his way back, he peeped into the kitchen where he caught
sight of a red face watching the coals under the great copper kettle,
and he saw that it was Joseph.
While Joseph was in the parlour, he was suddenly overwhelmed by the
feeling that it behoved him to do something under such peculiar
circumstances, and his heart felt so hot and heavy that 80° F. in the
shade was too cold for him, and so he had taken refuge in the kitchen,
in order to bring his outward and inward temperature more nearly to the
same degree. There was another reason for his having gone there, and
that was that he could not imagine a family festival without a bowl of
punch, so he was busy making it when his friend found him. Bräsig
helped him by taking the tasting part of the business off his hands,
and when they returned to the parlour they looked exactly like two
fiery dragons guarding a treasure, for they came in carrying Mrs.
Nüssler's largest soup-tureen between them. When Joseph put the tureen
on the table, he merely said: "There!" so Bräsig turning to the twins,
said: "Go and thank your father. He has thought of everything."
While the old gentlemen gathered round the punch bowl, and the young
people were amusing themselves in their own way, Mrs. Nüssler slipped
out of the room. She needed a little quiet time to speak to a much
older friend than even Bräsig, before she could rejoin the others. The
twins were full of happy anticipations of the future, and blushed rosy
red whenever uncle Bräsig called attention to them in any joking
speech, and that pleased him so much that he was often guilty of doing
so. "Yes," he said to Godfrey, "there are all kinds in the world, that
mischievous thing Methodism amongst others. You wanted to convert
_me_; take care, I intend to convert _you_. I'll convert you through
Lina."--And when Godfrey was about to answer him, he rose, and shaking
hands with him heartily said: "Never mind you shall have it all your
own way when once you have a living. I mean you well at heart, we've
smoked the pipe of peace together."--Then he said to Rudolph: "Wait a
bit! You caught my tench, you rascal, but Hilgendorf will take your
fishing-rod from you," so saying he went up to the lad and whispered in
his ear: "I don't mean you harm! You must think of Mina whenever you
have to weigh out a bushel of corn; and next spring when you've to
stand amongst a dozen harrows, while a high east-wind is blowing no end
of lime dust down your nose, and closing it up as if a swallow had
built her nest in it; and when the sun, seen through the lime dust
flying about you looks as round and red as a copper kettle you must
think that it's Mina's face looking down at you. Mustn't he, my dear
little god-child?"
When the rector had drunk three glasses of punch to the health of each
set of lovers, and one to the health of the whole company, he was no
longer to be restrained even by Kurz, but was determined to make a
speech in spite of all opposition. He rose, picked up the tea-ladle,
and the sugar-tongs which had been left on the table since coffee time,
coughed twice to clear his throat, and then seeing that he had
attracted every one's attention, and that Joseph watched each movement
he made with curiosity and interest, he gazed thoughtfully at the spoon
and the sugar-tongs. Suddenly thrusting the tea-ladle under Bräsig's
nose, he asked: "Do you know this?" as emphatically as if Bräsig had
stolen it and were now required to confess his guilt. "Yes," was the
answer, "what do you mean?"--Upon which Baldrian held the sugar-tongs
out to Kurz and asked if he knew them.--He acknowledged that he did,
adding that they belonged to Joseph.--"Yes" the rector went on, "you
know them, that is to say, you have an idea of them as sensible objects
of knowledge; you can distinguish them from other objects by their
colour, brightness and shape, but you do _not_ know the moral teaching
I derive from them."--Here he looked round upon them all as if to
challenge anyone to dispute his assertion.--"No, you are ignorant of
that, so I must make it known to you and explain it to you. Look,
before long the careful mistress of this house will come, and taking
these things which in appearance have no connection with each other,
and will lay them side by side in the same tea-caddy; in thousands of
households they are to be found in the same tea-caddy, and for
thousands of years this has been the case. It is a custom sanctified
by its antiquity, and what is joined together ought not to be put
asunder. Adam"--holding up the sugar-tongs--"and Eve"--holding up the
tea-ladle--"were joined together, for they were created for one
another"--he held up both the tongs and the ladle--"and God Himself
put them in the tea-caddy of paradise. And what did Noah do? He built
an ark--or a tea-caddy, if you like to give it that name, dear
friends--and called male and female, and they came at once in obedience
to his call." He now made the sugar-tongs walk across the table,
pressing the ends together and letting them out again as he did so, and
then he made the tea-ladle follow close behind the tongs. "And went
....."--"Come in!" shouted Bräsig who heard a knock at the door,
and in came Fred Triddelfitz. Hawermann had sent him to ask Mrs.
Nüssler to lend him some rape-cloths, for the rape harvest was about to
begin. This interruption obliged the rector to stop short in his
harangue.--Joseph promised to give Hawermann what he required. Fred
could not help wondering what had happened when he smelt the punch, and
saw the rector standing up in the position he had been wont to assume
in former times when Fred was a schoolboy, and the rector was about to
cane him for some juvenile offence, so he crossed the room softly on
tip-toe, and seated himself quietly. Then Joseph said; "Give
Triddelfitz some punch, Mina."--Fred drank his glass of punch, and
the rector continued to stand, ready to go on with his speech as soon
as order was restored.--"Let us begin at the beginning," said Bräsig,
"for Triddelfitz knows nothing of what has happened."--"We were
talking ...." began the rector, but Kurz broke in impatiently: "About
the sugar-tongs and the tea-ladle, and you told us that they both
belonged to the tea-caddy," then taking the things out of his
brother-in-law's hand and tossing them into their places in the
tea-box, he went on: "There they are, male and female in Noah's ark,
and now I think we may talk about our own affairs. You must know,
Triddelfitz, that we are rejoicing over a double engagement, and that's
the reason that the rector here wanted to preach us a sermon as
a sort of ornament to the plain matter of our discourse. How is
Hawermann?"--"Quite well, thank you," said Fred rising, then turning to
the lovers he congratulated them, at first ceremoniously, but ended in
an off-hand sort of way as if it were only a birthday, and the twins
were betrothed every year.--The rector still remained standing, the
better to seize his opportunity.
"Give your uncle Baldrian some punch, Lina," said Joseph, She did so,
and the rector drank it. Instead of changing the current of his
thoughts, it only made him more obstinately determined to finish his
speech, but whenever he attempted to begin he was always interrupted by
Joseph, Kurz, Bräsig or Fred, and when at last he brought up his heavy
artillery in the shape of "thoughts upon the estate of matrimony,"
Bräsig said to him with the most innocent air in the world: "Yours has
been a particularly happy marriage, hasn't it rector?" Upon which
Baldrian subsided into his chair with a deep sigh, caused either by the
thought of his own marriage, or by his inability to finish his speech.
I think that the latter was the true reason of his sigh, for in my
opinion it is much easier to meet with an example of a happy marriage,
than with a good speech.
As it was now growing late, the rector, Kurz, and Triddelfitz said
"good-bye," and Rudolph went with them, for Mrs. Nüssler and Bräsig
were agreed that he must set to work at his new employment as soon as
possible, as he had led an idle life long enough already. Joseph and
Bräsig accompanied their friends a little way.
"How's your new squire getting on, Triddelfitz?" asked Bräsig.--"He's
getting on uncommonly well, thank you, Mr. Bräsig. He made a speech to
the labourers this morning which was really very good!"--"What!" cried
Kurz. "Does he make speeches too?"--"What on earth had he to talk
about?" asked, Bräsig.--"What did you say he had done?" asked
Joseph.--"Made a speech," said Triddelfitz.--"I thought he was going to
be a farmer," said Joseph.--"Of course," answered Triddelfitz. "But
what's to prevent a farmer making a speech?"--Joseph could not get over
it; a farmer make a speech! He had never heard of such a thing before,
and pondered over it for the rest of the evening in silence, only
saying the last thing before going to sleep: "He must be a very clever
fellow!"--Bräsig's admiration was not so easily won, and he asked
again: "What did he say? If he had any arrangements to make with the
labourers, wasn't Hawermann there to receive his orders?"--"Mr.
Bräsig," said the rector, "a good speech is never out of place.
Cicero ...."--"Who was Cicero?"--"The most eloquent speaker of
antiquity."--"I don't mean that. I want to know what his occupation
was. Was he a farmer or a merchant; was he in a government-office, or
was he a doctor? Or what?"--"He was, as I tell you, the most eloquent
speaker of antiquity."--"Antiquity here, antiquity there! If he was
nothing more than that, I don't think much of the word-monger. Every
man ought to have some useful employment. And now, Rudolph, let me
advise you never to be a speechifier. You may fish if you like, perch
or trout, which ever you can get, but if once you get into the habit of
making long speeches you'll never be good for much as a fisherman. Now
good-night all of you. Come Joseph."--They then went back to Rexow.
Fred also took leave of the others, and striking through the fields to
the right took a short cut to Pümpelhagen.
He thought deeply as he went along the quiet field-path. He was not
jealous, but still he had an uncomfortable feeling that his old
school-fellows at Rahnstädt grammar-school had passed him in the race
of life, for they were both engaged to be married while he was still
free. However he soon comforted himself by the thought that _he_ could
never have engaged himself to a girl like either of the twins; that if
Lina or Mina had been offered to him he would not have accepted the
gift, and Louisa Hawermann was not good enough for him either. He would
have been a fool if he had been contented with the first best plum he
could reach, for such plums are always sour, no, he would wait till
they were all ripe, and then he would take his choice. Till his choice
was made, he had the pleasant feeling that, he could have any one he
liked to honour with his regard, in the same way as before he bought
his horse, he might have his choice of all horses. However he had made
up his mind to buy Augustus Prebberow's mare Whalebone the very next
day.