Hansei received various offers for his cottage, and was always provoked
when it was spoken of as a 'tumble-down old shanty.' He always looked as
if he meant to say, "Don't take it ill of me, good old house: the people
only abuse you so that they may get you cheap." Hansei stood his ground.
He would not sell his home for a penny less than it was worth; and
besides that, he owned the fishing-right, which was also worth
something. Grubersepp at last took the house off his hands, with the
design of putting a servant of his, who intended to marry in the fall,
in possession of the place.
All the villagers were kind and friendly to them,--doubly so since they
were about to leave,--and Hansei said:--
"It hurts me to think that I must leave a single enemy behind me, I'd
like to make it up with the innkeeper."
Walpurga agreed with him, and said that she would go along; that she had
really been the cause of the trouble, and that if the innkeeper wanted
to scold any one, he might as well scold her too.
Hansei did not want his wife to go along, but she insisted upon it.
It was in the last evening in August that they went up into the village.
Their hearts beat violently while they drew near to the inn. There was
no light in the room. They groped about the porch, but not a soul was to
be seen. Dachsel and Wachsel, however, were making a heathenish racket.
Hansei called out:
"Is there no one at home?"
"No. There's no one at home," answered a voice from the dark room.
"Well, then tell the host, when he returns, that Hansei and his wife
were here, and that they came to ask him to forgive them if they've done
him any wrong; and to say that they forgive him too, and wish him luck."
"A11 right: I'll tell him," said the voice. The door was again slammed
to, and Dachsel and Wachsel began barking again.
Hansei and Walpurga returned homeward.
"Do you know who that was?" asked Hansei.
"Why, yes: 'twas the innkeeper himself."
"Well, we've done all we could."
They found it sad to part from all the villagers. They listened to the
lovely tones of the bell which they had heard every hour since
childhood. Although their hearts were full, they did not say a word
about the sadness of parting. Hansei at last broke silence:--"Our new
home isn't out of the world: we can often come here."
When they reached the cottage they found that nearly all of the
villagers had assembled in order to bid them farewell, but every one
added, "I'll see you again in the morning."
Grubersepp also came again. He had been proud enough before; but now he
was doubly so, for he had made a man of his neighbor, or at all events
had helped to do so. He did not give way to tender sentiment. He
condensed all his knowledge of life into a few sentences, which he
delivered himself of most bluntly.
"I only want to tell you," said he, "you'll have lots of servants now.
Take my word for it, the best of them are good for nothing; but
something may be made of them for all that. He who would have his
servants mow well, must take the scythe in hand himself. And since you
got your riches so quickly, don't forget the proverb: 'Light come, light
go.' Keep steady, or it'll go ill with you."
He gave him much more good advice, and Hansei accompanied him all the
way back to his house. With a silent pressure of the hand they took
leave of each other.
The house seemed empty, for quite a number of chests and boxes had been
sent in advance by a boat that was already crossing the lake. On the
following morning two teams would be in waiting on the other side.
"So this is the last time that we go to bed in this house," said the
mother. They were all fatigued with work and excitement, and yet none of
them cared to go to bed. At last, however, they could not help doing so,
although they slept but little.
The next morning they were up and about at an early hour. Having attired
themselves in their best clothes, they bundled up the beds and carried
them into the boat. The mother kindled the last fire on the hearth. The
cows were led out and put into the boat, the chickens were also taken
along in a coop, and the dog was constantly running to and fro.
The hour of parting had come.
The mother uttered a prayer, and then called all of them into the
kitchen. She scooped up some water from the pail and poured it into the
fire, with these words:--"May all that's evil be thus poured out and
extinguished, and let those who light a fire after us find nothing but
health in their home."
Hansei, Walpurga, and Gundel were each of them obliged to pour a
ladleful of water into the fire, and the grandmother guided the child's
hand while it did the same thing.
After they had all silently performed this ceremony, the grandmother
prayed aloud:--
"Take from us, O Lord our God, all heartache and home-sickness and all
trouble, and grant us health and a happy home where we next kindle
our fire."
She was the first to cross the threshold. She had the child in her arms
and covered its eyes with her hands while she called out to
the others:--
"Don't look back when you go out."
"Just wait a moment," said Hansei to Walpurga when he found himself
alone with her. "Before we cross this threshold for the last time, I've
something to tell you. I must tell it. I mean to be a righteous man and
to keep nothing concealed from you. I must tell you this, Walpurga.
While you were away and Black Esther lived up yonder, I once came very
near being wicked--and unfaithful--thank God, I wasn't. But it torments
me to think that I ever wanted to be bad; and now, Walpurga, forgive me
and God will forgive me, too. Now I've told you, and have nothing more
to tell. If I were to appear before God this moment, I'd know of
nothing more."
Walpurga embraced him, and sobbing, said, "You're my dear good husband!"
and they crossed the threshold for the last time.
When they reached the garden, Hansei paused, looked up at the
cherry-tree, and said:--
"And so you remain here. Won't you come with us? We've always been good
friends, and spent many an hour together. But wait! I'll take you with
me, after all," cried he, joyfully, "and I'll plant you in my new home."
He carefully dug out a shoot that was sprouting up from one of the roots
of the tree. He stuck it in his hat-band, and went to join his wife
at the boat.
From the landing-place on the bank were heard the merry sounds of
fiddles, clarinets, and trumpets.
Hansei hastened to the landing-place. The whole village had congregated
there, and with it the full band of music. Tailor Schneck's son, he who
had been one of, the cuirassiers at the christening of the crown prince,
had arranged and was now conducting the parting ceremonies. Schneck, who
was scraping his bass-viol, was the first to see Hansei, and called out
in the midst of the music:--
"Long live farmer Hansei and the one he loves best! Hip, hip, hurrah!"
The early dawn resounded with their cheers. There was a flourish of
trumpets, and the salutes fired from several small mortars were echoed
back from the mountains. The large boat in which their household
furniture, the two cows, and the fowls were placed, was adorned with
wreaths of fir and oak. Walpurga was standing in the middle of the boat,
and with both hands held the child aloft, so that it might see the great
crowd of friends and the lake sparkling in the rosy dawn.
"My master's best respects," said one of Grubersepp's servants, leading
a snow-white colt by the halter: "he sends you this to remember him by."
Grubersepp was not present. He disliked noise and crowds. He was of a
solitary and self-contained temperament. Nevertheless he sent a present
which was not only of intrinsic value, but was also a most flattering
souvenir; for a colt is usually given by a rich farmer to a younger
brother when about to depart. In the eyes of all the world--that is to
say, the whole village--Hansei appeared as the younger brother of
Grubersepp.
Little Burgei shouted for joy when she saw them leading the snow-white
foal into the boat. Gruberwaldl, who was but six years old, stood by the
whinnying colt, stroking it and speaking kindly to it.
"Would you like to go to the farm with me and be my servant?" asked
Hansei of Gruberwaldl.
"Yes, indeed, if you'll take me."
"See what a boy he is," said Hansei to his wife. "What a boy!"
Walpurga made no answer, but busied herself with the child.
Hansei shook hands with every one at parting. His hand trembled, but he
did not forget to give a couple of crown thalers to the musicians.