OTTO’S LITTLE DIFFICULTIES.
To the astonishment of Syndic Hackernagel, it was found on the
reckoning day that notwithstanding his eloquence in Otto von
Steinbach’s favour, and that individual’s subsequent public triumph,
the majority of votes were given, not to him, but to Isaac Habrecht.
Isaac, however, who had small relish for rising on others’ ill
fortunes, least of all on those of Dasipodius, when informed by
those who waited on him for the purpose, that he was the successful
candidate, replied that he was no candidate at all, and consequently
could be neither successful nor unsuccessful; and that Syndic
Hackernagel in connecting his name as he had done with the affair, had
been guilty of the most unwarrantable conclusions.
“But,” said the disconcerted delegates, “you should have signified this
earlier, Master Habrecht.”
“I did, plain enough,” returned he.
“Oh! but that was informally; and really, this contempt of informality
on your part will place you in a most unfavourable light.”
“Maybe,” answered Isaac, “but where all has been informal, formality
would have become me as little as it would have been understood; and
if Syndic Hackernagel found pleasure in hearing himself gabble on as
he did the other day, he was welcome, I suppose, to make a fool of
himself; but that is no reason I should turn knave, and try and set
foot in my master’s shoe.”
“But—your conscience is too tender, it is indeed, Master Habrecht; and
you must be aware that your refusal will not reinstate the Professor
Dasipodius into a post for which he has been found unfitted by—by——”
“A set of arrant sheepsheads,” thundered Isaac, “who can’t tell a silk
purse from a sow’s ear.”
“And is this,” ejaculated the spokesman in injured tones, “is this all
the gratitude our council has to expect for its delicacy in having
refrained from bringing the question before a formal tribunal?”
“Would to Heaven!” exclaimed Isaac, “it had been brought before a
formal tribunal. Master Dasipodius might have had justice then. But if
you don’t want the clock, why, you can go without it.”
“Oh! as to the clock,” was the lofty rejoinder, “I imagine we can have
a clock without Master Dasipodius’ assistance; or yours either for the
matter of that, Isaac Habrecht.”
“No doubt,” assented Isaac, “you can have a clock.”
“I did not say a clock,” shouted the other in irate tones, and rapping
his knuckles sharply on the bench; “I said the clock—the clock which
Master Dasipodius has begun.”
“Ay—ay, can you so?” said Isaac.
“Yes, we can. Hasn’t he got his plans, and can’t the Town Council
compel him to deliver them up.”
“I’m not so sure of it,” said Habrecht; “but granted, what then?”
“What then? why then, if you will not——”
“I won’t,” said Isaac, “and I can’t.”
“Oh! can’t, indeed! A good joke that! Then we’ll see if Otto von
Steinbach can, that’s all.”
A general chuckle among the deputies greeted this sally; but happening
to observe that Habrecht seemed to be equally shaken with inward
laughter, they fell into a sudden composure, and after bestowing on him
a few moments’ silent stare, wished him a preternaturally solemn good
day, and departed; to return at once to the Chancellery, where they
announced Habrecht’s refusal, and steps were at once taken to secure
the reversion of the appointment to Otto von Steinbach, the fortunate
possessor of the next greatest number of votes.
Since Dasipodius had not lifted a finger in his own behalf, and
Habrecht had declined the honour some would have thrust upon him,
Otto’s triumph was easily won. That, however, only made him appreciate
it the more, because, as he explained in the eloquent address with
which he graced his acceptance of the appointment, and with whose
hearing Syndic Hackernagel generously supplied him, it was so
gratifying to reflect that favour and prejudice had been compelled to
yield to calm enquiry and dispassionate consideration, and that, to
use a comprehensive figure of speech, the right man was at last in the
right place.
Concerning the Horologe, although it was in a very advanced stage
towards completion, Otto had nursed the hope of being able to set it
aside in favour of the one projected on the lines of his own originally
rejected plan. He found himself, however, forced to abandon such wild
hopes as soon as thought of, on account of the insuperable objections
which at once arose. In the first place he was conscious that his
quondam fellow-students, who thought themselves as good as he, and were
not far wrong, were by no means well pleased at finding themselves
under his direction; and although at present kept in check by public
opinion, the least spark of over-assumption of authority on his part
would have fired their lurking spirit of insubordination, and hurled
him from his high estate before he was fairly well fixed in it; and
he came to the conclusion that when the Horologe was quite finished,
would be the more meet opportunity for visiting his wrath upon certain
impertinent inuendoes and quips and cranks which he knew they indulged
in at his expense.
He had, moreover, other cogent incentives to circumspection; standing,
as he did, in terrible awe of what his sister Radegund might be having
to say on the matter. Hitherto she had said ominously little; and
he lived long in hourly dread of some outbreak from her of a storm
of angry sarcasm, but he had escaped with comparative ease; and when
he had told her his appointment had been confirmed, she had simply
counselled him to try and fit himself in some degree for the onerous
task before him; but that, taking him at his best, he was a poor
creature to succeed such a man as Conrad Dasipodius.
“Oh! ah! of course,” grumbled Otto, “I knew that. Beside this paragon
of yours, even your own flesh and blood is just dirt, and you have not
one word of congratulation for your poor brother.”
“Alas! no.”
“It’s a blessing that there are those who understand my value better
than you do, Radegund,” said Otto, tugging vexedly at the end of his
trim little beard.
“A man is not a prophet in his own country, Otto dear. Put it down to
that if you like.”
“I shan’t!” whimperingly snapped he, “it’s all because you’re so
prejudiced in favour of that fellow. I do believe you’re in love with
him, yes I do, there!”
“What is that?” she cried, turning on him with flashing eyes. “Say
that again if you dare.”
But he did not exactly dare. “Well, well, where’s the need of firing
up like that at a little bit of fun, my dear?” he said. “But at least
you must confess you are a kinder sister than you care to seem; for it
is you, with that letter business of yours, who have brought about my
advancement, and I owe all my honours to you.”
Then marking that Radegund’s handsome brows knitted till they met, and
she bit her lip till the blood came, he was satisfied, and went out for
a walk through the city’s chief thoroughfares, to seek from an admiring
public the _éclat_ and sympathy lacking in his own house.
Frivolous and shallow-pated, however, as Otto von Steinbach was, he was
not heartless, nor even destitute of generosity when he gave himself
time to reflect, and Radegund’s indifference to his triumph wounded
something better in him than his vanity. It was a really bitter drop in
his cup of sweetness, since after his own fashion his affection for her
was great, and his pride in her almost exceeded his love; but there was
one yet more bitter drop still, and that was the necessity for carrying
out Dasipodius’ plans to the utmost minutiæ. Necessity, however, knows
no law; and without wasting his precious time on superfluous niceties,
he went to Dasipodius and asked him for all his drawings, elevations,
sectional plans, calculations, notes, and any other document he might
have in his possession bearing reference to the new Cathedral Horologe,
and when the mathematician refused to deliver them up to him, his
amazement was boundless. “But I can’t get on without them,” he said.
“Use your own,” replied Dasipodius.
“But I tell you we want yours.”
“You do?” said the mathematician.
“Yes, you know, and you must give them up.” Dasipodius shook his head.
“Oh now—but really—it’s too absurd to stand out about such trifles! I
never dreamt you’d go making any difficulty. I told them I was sure you
wouldn’t. Don’t you see yourself—I mean, don’t you understand, that
such a thing as a blind person making a clock has never been heard of;
and you’re blind you know, you owned you were, and so how can you——”
“Your syllogism has a false conclusion, my friend; I can make a clock.”
“Oh, bother!” said Otto; “well, the town council says you can’t, so
it’s all the same. I say look here, if you don’t give up these things
they’ll be putting you in prison, they will indeed.”
“Perhaps,” said the mathematician with a shrug.
“Well, I shouldn’t like it to come to that. To be sure, you’ve always
stood in my light, Conrad Dasipodius; if it hadn’t been for you, you
know, I should have had a chance with cousin Sabina——”
“Take it now,” answered Dasipodius; “Mistress Sabina von Steinbach is
free.”
“I—I wasn’t thinking so much of Sabina just then,” replied Otto; “I
was only going to say you took away my first chance with the Horologe
and—and——”
“But you have it all your own way now.”
“Oh yes, but I shouldn’t like you to be sent to prison, it’s such an
uncomfortable idea, and all for such a trifle. Why, if you’d only just
give up these papers and things, it would all go so nice and smooth, it
would really.”
“Yes?” said Dasipodius; “well, I cannot do it, Otto.”
“It’s a great shame of you to make such a fuss about nothing,” grumbled
Otto; but he attempted no further persuasion of his own, for he knew
Dasipodius, and went away sorely discomfited, brooding, as he walked,
upon the mathematician’s want of feeling in throwing obstacles in his
path up Parnassus.