RELATES HOW GIDEON WOLF LEFT MASTER FINK'S EMPLOYMENT.
I arrived home a little before noon on Saturday, and took down my
shutters and examined my stock. Nothing was missing or disturbed;
everything was as I had left it, except that some of the brooches and
chains had been brightened. That was my old Anna's doings, though
she said nothing about it till I asked her. The delight evinced by
this faithful servant at my return moved me deeply. Her hands hovered
about me with exceeding tenderness. She trotted up and down stairs
briskly, really as if she were a young girl, and before I had been
half an hour in the house she set before me a meal that did the heart
good only to look at it. The bright knives and forks and spoons, the
snowy table-cloth and napkins, the shining glasses, the sweetness and
cleanliness all around--let me tell you that there lies in these things
a medicine for the soul: it is not only the body that benefits by their
influence. And when Anna removed the covers--ah, then! The delicious
aroma floated into my inner being as it were, attacked by melancholy,
vanquished it, and sent it to the rightabout. I was myself again. I
rubbed my hands, and Anna rubbed hers. She was as pleased as I was.
Gideon Wolf came in before I had finished my meal. His nostrils
twitched; he sniffed the fragrance.
"It smells good, Master Fink," he said.
"It eats better," I said.
I did not ask him to join me after what I had heard it was not possible
for me to sit at the same table with him.
"Did you enjoy your holiday?" he asked.
I did not answer him I went on with my meal.
"But it was not a real holiday, was it?" he continued. "You went partly
on business. Did you do a good stroke? You had fine weather. Which road
did you take?"
"You want to know too much," I said, and I rose from the table and went
into the shop. He followed me there.
I had made up my mind as to the course I should pursue towards him.
I would get rid of him as quickly as possible. To have a treacherous
creature continually in my sight would have made my life unbearable. He
should go; he had done mischief enough I would have nothing more to do
with him.
He felt the coldness of my reception; I wished him to feel it.
"You do not seem glad to see me," he said.
"There is no special reason for joy," I replied.
"I shall not trouble myself, however," he said. "Here are the watches
you gave me to repair."
I laid them aside and paid him. He counted the money discontentedly.
"It will barely pay for my week's board and lodging," he said. I made
no remark. Then he opened fire in real earnest. "You do not forget the
conversation we had last Saturday, Master Fink?"
"Surely not," I replied; "it is fixed in my memory."
"Do you still refuse the offer I made you?"
"I still refuse it."
"Once is enough. I have nothing more to say on the subject. Perhaps it
will be for my good that you do not take me into partnership."
"Perhaps it will."
My laconic answers angered him.
"I should be a fool to waste the best years of my life in a service so
unprofitable."
"Very likely, very likely."
"You have lately frequently complained of my work."
"With good cause. In spite of all my endeavors to teach you, I never
saw a watch-maker handle a watch more clumsily than you do."
"It proves that I was made for higher things."
"Or lower."
"At all events I am going to better myself."
"I am rejoiced to hear it. You give me notice to leave?"
"If it pleases you, Master Fink."
"It pleases me well. When is the affliction to fall upon me?"
"As soon as convenient. Next week, or earlier, if it is acceptable."
"It is quite acceptable. Go, Gideon, not next week, but this; not
on Monday, but to-day--now, this very hour. I will not delay your
prosperity by a single movement of a pendulum."
He was disturbed, not expecting so cheerful an acquiescence. Did the
rascal think I should beg him to stay?
"When I pay for the food I have had this week," he whined, "I shall
have nothing left."
"Do I owe you anything? I thought it was the other way--or have I been
dreaming all these years?"
"You do not strictly owe me anything but you surely do not wish to
thrust me on the world in a state of beggary!"
"It is not I who thrust you on the world it is your own deliberate
act, my worthy Gideon, and your plans to better yourself are already
laid. However, your appeal shall not be made in vain. I will deal,
not justly, but generously, towards you." I opened my safe, and took
therefrom a packet containing coins. "I am going to make you a present
of twenty-eight florins." His eyes glistened, and he held out his
eager hand. "All bad ones, Gideon, every one of them! But I am not
responsible for that, it is your affair. Among them you will find, with
a date scratched on them, two false florins you brought to me this
day four weeks as having been paid to you by Strauss the butcher, for
repairs done to his watch."
"He gave them to me!" cried Gideon, turning very white. His limbs
trembled; he was in mortal fear, "With his own hands he gave them to
me."
"And you gave them to me. Go to Strauss, and inform him that he deals
in bad money, for you will find in this packet three other false
florins which you brought to me from him four months ago--you will
see the date on them--in payment for a pair of silver ear-rings he
bought for his little daughter. Go to Strauss, Gideon, go to him. He
was never known to rob even the rich, and if you succeed in convincing
him that he gave you the five bad florins, he will give you five
good ones in exchange for them. He will do it, Gideon, without a
murmur, for naturally he will be desirous to keep such a transaction
very quiet. There is also another bad coin you brought to me from
Rosenblatt the clothes-mender. Perhaps he found it in an old coat he
was patching. There are seven others in a batch--mere bits of lead,
Gideon--which you brought to me from Philip Adler the rabbi, in payment
of a long-standing account. Philip Adler is a charitable man, and much
loved. Go to him, and acquaint him with this sad business; he will not
see you wronged."
"It is a plot!" gasped Gideon. "You wish to ruin me; you wish to take
away my character."
"Let us not speak of plots," I said, and here my voice grew stern. "Let
us not speak of taking characters away. Every florin in this packet I
received direct from your hands, and I have kept a faithful record of
them. You will be glad to receive them back, for it is not a pleasant
matter; it is, indeed, as you are well aware, a most dangerous matter.
We live in evil times, Gideon, and one needs to be very, very careful
in his dealings. Beware of rogues and backbiters; avoid bad company;
speak always the truth; do not malign your benefactors; do not play
cards with the devil; and do not betray the innocent. Fare you well,
Gideon Wolf."
His tongue was afflicted with a kind of St. Vitus's dance as he
endeavored to explain that he was innocent of this dangerous passing of
bad money for good. I sat back in my chair, and did not assist him out
of his tangle of words, I listened in silence, and when his tongue had
run itself down, like an ill-regulated watch, I bade him farewell once
more, and shut my door upon him.
It was a happy release. Old Anna was overjoyed.
"Now I can sleep in peace," she said.