"I have to thank you, dear mother, for this!" said Fritz, with an
affectionate smile, to Madame Dort. "How did you contrive such a
pleasant surprise?"
"You told me of your trouble, my son," she replied; "so I did my best to
help you under the circumstances."
"And you, little traitress," exclaimed he, turning to Madaleine. "How
could you keep me in suspense all those weary weeks that have elapsed
since the year began?"
"I did not think you cared so much," said she defiantly.
"Cared!" he repeated.
"Well, it was not my fault," she explained. "When I wrote to you last,
I really never thought I should see you again."
"You don't know me yet," said Fritz. "I should have hunted you out to
the world's end! I had determined, as soon as I had seen mother, to go
off to Darmstadt and find out what had become of you."
"And a nice wild-goose chase you would have had," answered Madaleine,
tossing her head, and shaking the silky masses of golden hair, now
unconfined by any jealous coiffe, with her blue eyes laughing fun. "You
wouldn't have found me there! The baroness--"
"Hang her!" interrupted Fritz angrily; "I should like to settle her!"
"Ah, I wouldn't mind your doing that now," continued the girl naively;
"she treated me very unkindly at the end."
"The brute!" said Fritz indignantly.
"Her son--the young baron, you know--came home from the war in January.
He was invalided, but I don't think there was anything the matter with
him at all; for, no sooner had he got back to the castle than he began
worrying me, paying all sorts of attention and pestering me with his
presence."
"Puppy!" exclaimed Fritz; "I would have paid him some delicate little
attentions if I'd been there!"
"Oh, I knew how to treat him," said Madaleine. "I soon made him keep
his distance! But it is the Baroness Stolzenkop that I complain of; she
actually taxed me with encouraging him!"
"Indeed?" interrogated Fritz.
"Yes; and, when I told her I wouldn't choose her fop of a son if there
wasn't another man in Germany, why she accused me of impertinence,
telling me that the fact of my having attracted the young baron was an
honour which an humble girl in my position should have been proud of--
she did, really!"
"The old cat!" said Fritz indignantly; "I should like to wring her neck
for her."
"Hush, my son," interposed Madame Dort. "Pray don't make use of such
violent expressions. The baroness, you know, is exalted in rank, and--"
"Then all the greater shame for her to act so dishonourably," he
interrupted hotly. "She ought to be--I can find no words to tell what I
would do to her, there!"
"Besides, Master Fritz," said old Lorischen, "I won't have you speak so
disrespectfully of cats, the noblest animals on earth! Look at Mouser
there, looking his indignation at you; can't you see how he feels the
reproach of your comparing him to that horrid baroness?"
This remark at once diverted the conversation, all turning in the
direction the old nurse pointed, where a little comedy was being
enacted.
Mouser--with his tail erected like a stiff bottle-brush, and every
individual hair galvanised into a perpendicular position on his back,
which was curved into the position of a bent bow with rage and
excitement, his whiskers bristling out from each side of his head and
his mouth uttering the most horrible anathemas the cat language is
capable of--was perched on the back of Madame Dort's arm-chair in the
corner; while poor Gelert, the innocent cause of all this display of
emotion on Mouser's part, was calmly surveying him and sniffing
interrogatory inquiries as to whom he had the pleasure of speaking. The
dog had not yet been formally introduced to his new cat friend, and from
the commanding position he had taken up, with his hind legs on the
hearthrug and his fore paws on the seat of the easy chair, he had
considerable advantage over pussy, should that sagacious creature think
of fleeing to another vantage-ground; although the thought of this, it
should be added, never crossed for an instant the mind of old Mouser; he
knew well when he was safe.
Fritz burst out laughing.
"Lie down, Gelert!" he cried; and the retriever at once obeyed.
"Is that the dear dog?" inquired Madame Dort, stooping to pat him.
"Yes," said Fritz, "this is Gelert, the brave, faithful fellow but for
whom I would have bled to death on the battlefield and never have been
saved by Madaleine!"
"Thanks be to God!" exclaimed the widow piously. "What a nice dog he
is!"
"He is all that," replied Fritz; "still, he must be taught not to molest
Master Mouser. Here, Gelert!"
The dog at once sprang up again from his recumbent position on the
hearthrug; while Mouser, his excessive spiny and porcupinish appearance
having become somewhat toned down, was now watchfully observing this new
variety of the dog species, which his natural instinct taught him to
regard with antagonism and yet who was so utterly different from Burgher
Jans' terrier, the only specimen of the canine race with whom he had
been previously acquainted.
"See," said Fritz to the retriever, laying one hand on his head and
stroking the cat with the other, "you mustn't touch poor Mouser. Good
dog!"
The animal gave a sniff of intelligence, seeming to know at once what
was expected of him; and, never, from that moment, did he ever exhibit
the slightest approach of hostility to pussy--no, not even when Mouser,
as he did sometimes from curiosity, would approach him at the very
delicate juncture when he was engaged on a bone, which few dogs can
stand--the two ever after remaining on the friendliest of friendly
terms; so friendly, indeed, that Mouser would frequently curl himself to
sleep between Gelert's paws on the hearthrug.
This little diversion had drawn away the conversation from Madaleine's
treatment by the old Baroness Stolzenkop; but, presently, Madame Dort
proceeded to explain to Fritz that, on account of his telling her in one
of his letters home how anxious he was in the matter, and knowing
besides how much she was indebted to Madaleine for saving his life by
her kindly nursing when he was in the villa hospital at Mezieres, she
had written to her at Darmstadt, asking her to pay her a visit and so
light up a lonely house with her presence until her son should have
returned from the war. "And a veritable house fairy she has been,"
concluded the widow, speaking from her heart, with tears in her eyes.
"She has been like sunshine to me in the winter of my desolation."
"And Mouser likes her, too," said Lorischen, as if that settled the
matter.
"She's the best manager in the world," next put in Madame Dort. "She
has saved me a world of trouble since she's been in the house."
"And she cooks better than any one else in Lubeck!" exclaimed the old
nurse, not to be beat in enumerating all the good qualities of Fritz's
guardian angel, who had taken her heart, as well as the widow's, by
storm.
Meanwhile, the subject of all these remarks stood in the centre of the
room, blushing at the compliments paid her on all sides.
"Dear me, good people, I shall have to run away if you go on like that,"
she cried at last. "I have been so happy here," she added, turning to
Fritz. "It's the first time I've known what home was since my mother
died."
"Poor child," said Madame Dort, opening her arms. "Come here, I'll be
your mother now."
"Ah, that's just what I've longed for!" exclaimed Fritz rapturously.
"Madaleine, will you be her daughter in reality?"
The girl did not reply in words, but she gave him one look, and then hid
her face in the widow's bosom.
"Poor Eric," said the widow presently, resigning Madaleine to the care
of Fritz, who was nothing loth to take charge of her--the two retreating
to a corner and sitting down side by side, having much apparently to say
to each other, if such might be surmised from their bent heads and
whispered conversation. "If he were but here, my happiness would now be
almost complete!"
"Yes," chimed in Lorischen as she bustled out of the room, Madame Dort
following her quietly, so as to leave the lovers to themselves--"the
dear flaxen-haired sailor laddie, with his merry ways and laughing eyes.
I think I can see him now before me! Ah, it is just nineteen months to
the day since he sailed away on that ill-fated voyage, you remember,
mistress?"
But, she need not have asked the question. Madame Dort had counted
every day since that bright autumn morning when she saw her darling for
the last time at the railway station. It was not likely that she would
forget how long he had been absent!
Later on, when the excitement of coming home to his mother and meeting
with Madaleine had calmed down, Fritz, having ceased to be a soldier,
his services not being any longer required with the Landwehr, turned his
attention to civil employment; for, now, with the prospect of marrying
before him, it was more urgent than ever that he should have something
to do in order to occupy his proper position as bread-winner of the
family, the widow's means being limited and it being as much as she
could do to support herself and Lorischen out of her savings, without
having to take again to teaching--which avocation, indeed, her health of
late years had rendered her unable to continue, had she been desirous of
resuming it again.
Madaleine, of course, could have gone out as a governess, Madame Dort
being, probably, easily able to procure her a situation in the family of
one of her former pupils; or she might have resumed the position of a
hospital nurse, for which she had been trained at Darmstadt, having been
taken on as an assistant in the convalescent home established in that
town by the late Princess Alice of Hesse, when the Baroness Stolzenkop
turned her adrift. But Fritz would not hear of Madaleine's leaving his
mother.
"No," said he decisively to her, "your place is here with mutterchen,
who regards you as a daughter--don't you, mother?"
"Yes, indeed," answered the widow readily enough--"so long as I'm
spared."
"There, you see, you've no option," continued Fritz triumphantly.
"Mother would not be able to do without you now. Besides, it is not
necessary. I will be able to earn bread enough for all. Look at these
broad shoulders and strong arms, hey! What were they made for else, I'd
like to know?"
Still, Fritz did not find it so easy to get employment as he thought.
Herr Grosschnapper had kept the clerkship he had formerly filled in his
counting-house open for him some time after the commencement of the war;
but, finding that Fritz would be away much longer than he had expected,
he had been forced to employ a substitute in his place. This young man
had proved himself so diligent and active in mastering all the details
of the business in a short time, that the worthy shipowner did not wish
to discharge him now when his original clerk returned, and Fritz himself
would have been loth to press the matter; although, he had looked upon
his re-engagement in the merchant's office as a certainty when he came
back to Lubeck.
Fritz had thought, with that self-confidence which most of us possess,
that no one could possibly have kept Herr Grosschnapper's books or
calculated insurances with such ability as he could, and that the worthy
merchant would have been only too delighted to welcome so able a clerk
when he walked into the counting-house again. He had not lived long
enough to know that as good, or better, a man can always be found to
fill the place of even the best; and that, much as we may estimate our
own value, a proportionate equivalent can soon be supplied from other
sources!
So, much to Fritz's chagrin, on going down to the merchant's place of
business on the quay, all eagerness to resume work again on the old
footing, he found that he was not wanted: he would have to apply
elsewhere for employment.
"Oh, that will not be a hard matter," he thought to himself.
"Softly, my friend," whispered fickle Dame Fortune in his ear, "not
quite so fast! Things don't always turn out just as you wish, young
sir, with your reliant impetuosity!"
Lubeck had never been at any time a bustling place, for it had no trade
to speak of; and now, since the war had crippled commerce, everything
was in a state of complete stagnation. Ships were laying up idle all
along the banks of the great canal, although spring was advancing and
the ice-chains that bound up the Baltic would soon be loosed. There
were no cargoes to be had; and perforce, the carriers of the sea were
useless, making a corresponding dearth of business in the houses of the
shipping firms. Why, instead of engaging fresh hands at their desks,
they would have need soon to discharge some of their old ones! This was
the answer that met his ear at every place he applied to, and he had
finally to give up all hope of finding work in his native town.
It was the same elsewhere.
The five milliards of ransom paid by France, brought no alleviation of
the enormous taxation imposed on Germany to bear the expense of
organising the great military machine employed to carry out the war.
The Prussian exchequer alone reaped the benefit of this plunder of the
conquered nation; as for the remaining states of the newly created
empire, they were not a farthing to the good for all the long train of
waggons filled with gold and silver and bales of bank-notes that
streamed over the frontier when the war indemnity was paid. If
possible, their position was made worse instead of better; as, from the
more extravagant style of living now adopted, in lieu of the former
frugal habits in vogue--on account of the soldiers of the Fatherland
learning to love luxury through their becoming accustomed during the
campaign to what they had never dreamt of in their lives before--
articles of food and dress became increased in price, so that it was a
difficult matter for people with a small income to make both ends meet.
Ah, there was wide-spread poverty and dearth of employment throughout
the length and breadth of the land, albeit there might be feasting and
hurrahing, and clinking of champagne glasses Unter den Linden at Berlin!
However, Fritz was not the sort of fellow to grow despondent, or fail to
recognise the urgency of the situation.
Long before Eric had gone to sea, he had fancied that Lubeck, with its
slow movements and asthmatic trade, offered little opening for the
energy and ability with which he felt himself endowed; for, he might
live and die a clerk there, without the chance of ever rising to
anything else. He had frequently longed to go abroad and carve out a
fortune in some fresh sphere; but the thought of leaving his mother
alone prevented him from indulging in this day-dream, and he had
determined, much against the grain, to be satisfied with the humble lot
which appeared to be his appointed place in life.
Now, however, circumstances had changed. His place was filled up in the
old world; Providence itself forced him to seek an opening in the new.
His mind was made up at once.
"Little mother," said he one evening, when he had been home a month,
seeing every prospect of employment shut out from him--his last hope,
that of a situation in the house of a comrade's father at Coblentz, from
which he had expected great things, having failed--"I've determined to
emigrate to America--that is, if you do not offer any objection; for I
should not like to go without your consent, although I see there's no
chance for me here in Germany."
"What!" exclaimed Madame Dort, so startled that she let her knitting
drop. "Go to America, across the terrible sea?"
Fritz had already explained matters to Madaleine, and she, brave-hearted
girl that she was, concealing her own feelings at the separation between
them which her lover's resolve would necessitate, did not seek to urge
him against his will to abandon his project. She believed in his
honesty of purpose, relying on his strong, impulsive character; and what
he had decided on, she decided, too, as a good wife that was to be,
would be best not only for them both but for all.
"Yes, to America, mutterchen," he replied to the widow's exclamation,
speaking in a tender voice of entreaty. "It is not so very far, you
know, dear little mother, eh? It will be only from Bremerhaven to
Southampton in England,--you recollect going there with me for a trip,
don't you, the year before last?--and from Southampton to New York; and,
there, I shall be in my new home in ten days' time at the outside! Why,
it's nothing, a mere nothing of a voyage when you come to consider it
properly."
"Across the wide, wild ocean that has already robbed me of Eric, my
youngest," went on poor Madame Dort, unheeding his words; "you, my
firstborn--my only son now--I shall never see you more, I know!" and she
gave way to a burst of tears.
"Say not so, darling mother," said Madaleine, throwing her arms round
her and joining in her weeping with a sympathetic heart, feeling quite
as great grief at the idea of parting with her lover. "He will return
for us both bye-and-bye. He is only going to make that home for us in
the Far West we've read about so often lately, which he cannot hope to
establish here; and then, my mother,--for you are my mother too, now,
are you not?--he will come back for you and me, or we will go out and
join him."
"And I should like to know what will become of me, Fraulein Madaleine,"
interposed Lorischen indignantly. "Am I to be left behind to be
bothered all my life long by that little plague, Burgher Jans?"
"No, no, Lorischen," laughed Fritz; "a home across the sea in America
would not be a home without you--or Mouser, either," he added.
"That's all right, then," said the old nurse affably; her digression
serving to break the gravity of the conversation, and make Madame Dort
take a better view of the matter.
"But, it's a terrible journey, though, a terrible journey--almost worse
than parting with him to go to the war," said the widow sadly to
herself.
"Ah, but you did not have Madaleine with you then," replied Fritz,
turning a look of affection to the fair girl clinging to his mother.
"She will be a daughter to you, and comfort you in my absence, I know."
"Aye, that I will," exclaimed Madaleine fondly, caressing her adopted
parent and gazing at Fritz with the blue eyes full of love, although
blinded with tears. "I shall love her dearly for your sake, my darling,
as well as for her own--and my own too; and we will all look forward to
meeting again happily after our present parting, with hope and trust in
the good God who will protect and watch over you in return for our
prayers!"
"Amen to that," said Lorischen heartily. "And I tell you what it is,
Master Fritz--we'll be all ready when you give the word to follow you
across the sea to that wonderful America! I declare I'm quite longing
to see it, for I don't think much of this Lubeck now, with such curious,
meddling, impertinent people in it like that odious little fat man,
Burgher Jans."
These words of the old nurse put them all in a merry mood, and the
family council thus terminated more cheerily than it had begun.