Three days later Alick arrived, too late to see his father, but not too
late to pay him the last honours. The postilion blew the usual cheery
blast on his horn as they drove into the court-yard, and three pale
women dressed in black at once appeared in the doorway of the
manor-house.--What is our grief to the rest of the world?--The young
Squire soon got to understand his real situation, for the full weight
of all the disagreeables of his position, whether caused by his own
fault or not fell upon him at once: the visitation of God, his own
ignorance and folly, the poverty of his sisters and his powerlessness
to help them, and the memory of his father's love and kindness which
had never failed in good or evil days. These things all weighed upon
him. It was his nature to feel a sort of nervous irritation when things
went ill with him, even when matters were not so grave as they now
were. He sighed and bemoaned himself, and asked again and again why
this or that was the case, and when he heard from Frank that his
father's last words had been spoken in private to Hawermann, he called
the old bailiff aside and questioned him as to what had passed between
them. Hawermann told him the whole truth, making him understand that
his father's last trouble had been uneasiness about his future, and
whether he would be able by good management of his estate to keep
himself and his sisters.
Yes, of course he would do that! He swore to himself that he would do
it when a short time afterwards he was alone in the garden; he would
double his profits, he would live quietly, would do without society,
and would not join in the extravagant amusements of his brother
officers. He could do that easily, quite easily, but he could not leave
the army as Hawermann proposed, and go somewhere to learn farming
thoroughly; no, _that_ was impossible, he was too old for that, and
then too it would be derogatory to his position as an officer, and
besides that, it was unnecessary. When he came to live at home he would
soon get into the way of it all, and meanwhile he would live
economically, would pay his debts, and would study the agricultural
works his old father had had so much at heart.
Thus it is that people deceive themselves, often even at the gravest
and most important time in their lives.
The funeral took place on the following day. No invitations were given,
but the Squire had been so much loved and respected that a number of
the neighbours attended of their own free will. Braesig's master, the
Count, came amongst others, and showed by his manner that he thought it
a great honour to be allowed to be present. Braesig was there also, he
stood near the coffin, and when everyone else cast down their eyes, he
raised his, and when Hawermann passed near him, he caught him by the
coat and whispered: "Ah, Charles, what is human life?" He said no more,
but Joseph Nuessler who was standing beside him, muttered: "What can
anyone do now?"--Round about them were the villagers, all the Pegels
and Degels, and Paesels and Daesels were there, and when Mr. Behrens came
in with the youngest daughter by his side, and standing by the coffin
gave a short address which touched the hearts even of the strangers
present, many tears were shed by old eyes for the kind master who was
gone. They were tears of gratitude to the old Squire, and of fear lest
the young Squire might not resemble his father.
When the address was finished the procession moved off to the
church-yard. The coffin was placed in a carriage, and Daniel Sadenwater
took his seat beside it, and sat there as stiff and motionless, even to
the calm serenity of his face, as if he had all his life been a
monument at the head of his master's grave. Then came the carriage
containing the young Squire and his three sisters, then the Count's
carriage, then the clergyman and Frank who tried to persuade Hawermann
to go with them, but he refused, saying that he wished to accompany the
labourers, then several more carriages, then Joseph Nuessler, and lastly
Hawermann on foot with Braesig and the villagers.
When they got to Guerlitz, Braesig stooped towards Hawermann and
whispered: "I have it now, Charles."--"What have you got,
Zachariah?"--"The pension from my lord the Count. When I left you after
my last visit, I rode straight to him and got it all right, padagraph
by padagraph, thirty-seven pounds ten a year, ten-thousand peats,
and rooms in the mill-house at Haunerwiem rent free, and besides
that, I am to have a small garden for vegetables, and a bit of
potato-ground."--"I'm glad to hear it, Zachariah. You'll be able to
spend your old age there very comfortably."--"Yes, indeed, Charles,
especially when I add to that the interest of the money I have saved.
But why are we stopping?"--"They are going to take the coffin out of
the carriage," said Hawermann. He then turned to the villagers, and
said: "Kegel, Paesel! You'd better go now, my lads, and help to carry
the coffin." He went forward with the men to make the necessary
arrangements. Braesig followed him.
Meanwhile the mourners had all got out of the carriage, and when Alick
and his three sisters were standing on the road little Mrs. Behrens and
Louisa Hawermann, who were both dressed in black joined them, and Mrs.
Behrens with heart-felt compassion pressed the hands of the two elder
ladies who had hitherto always held themselves aloof from her, because
they were so much impressed with the dignity of their social
position--but death and sorrow make all men equal, the great and mighty
of the earth bow beneath the hand of God, for they feel that they are
nothing in comparison with Him, and at such times the lowly come
forward to meet them, for they know that the sympathy which they show
comes from God.--To-day David Daesel had had the pleasure of shaking
hands with the ladies, and they had had the comfort of seeing in his
honest face and tearful eyes how truly he grieved for them.--Louisa
threw her arms round her friend, Miss Fidelia, and not knowing how to
express her sympathy with her, contented herself with saying: "There!"
with a deep sigh, as she thrust a bunch of red and white roses into her
hand, and while doing so she looked at her friend as much as to say
that she intended the flowers, which were her greatest treasures to be
a sign of her loving sympathy.
All eyes were turned on the child of fourteen--but was she still a
child?--Are those only buds, or are the leaves really showing when the
birch-tree shimmers green after a warm shower of rain in May? And as
for the human soul, it puts forth its leaves when first under the
influence of some strong feeling, in like manner as the birch after
rain. "Who is that?" Alick asked his cousin who was staring at the
child.--"Who is that young girl, Frank?" he asked again, touching his
cousin's arm.--"That young girl?" asked Frank as if he could hardly
take away his eyes from her, "that child, you mean? She is Mr.
Hawermann's daughter."--The bailiff was also watching her, and
as he did so he remembered his thoughts on the night of the
Squire's death. "No," he said to himself, "surely the Lord won't do
that."--Nonsense!--She was not ill. Oh God, if she had inherited her
mother's constitution, his poor wife had had just such beautiful rosy
cheeks.--"I say, just look!" said Braesig rousing him out of his
reverie.--"It _is_ him! Just look, Charles, here's Samuel
Pomuchelskopp! And he has got on a black swallow-tail coat!"
He was right.--Pomuchelskopp advanced and made as low a bow to the
ladies as his short stature would permit, then turning to the
lieutenant: "Pardon me--neighbourly friendship--_extreme_ sympathy with
you on this melancholy occasion--_greatest_ respect for the late Mr.
von Rambow--hope that there may be friendship between Puempelhagen and
Guerlitz"--In short he said whatever occurred to him on the spur of the
moment, and when the young Squire had thanked him for his attention, he
felt as happy as if he had bestowed all possible sympathy. He then
passed the whole procession under review, and when he found that the
Count was the only other landed proprietor there, he edged himself
amongst the people so that he should at least come immediately behind
him, and as they proceeded to the church-yard he took care to put his
feet down on the foot-prints of his aristocratic acquaintance, and
this, though a matter of complete indifference to the Count, was a
great pleasure to him.
The funeral was over.--The mourners assembled for a short time at the
parsonage. Little Mrs. Behrens was torn in two by conflicting feelings,
for on the one hand she would have liked to have joined the three Miss
von Rambows on the sofa, and to have comforted them; and on the other
hand she wanted to move about the room, and offer the cake and wine to
her guests, but as Louisa had undertaken the latter, and her pastor the
former duty, she sat as despondingly in her large arm-chair as if old
Mr. Metz the surgeon had been sewing the two halves together again, and
she was still suffering from the pain of the operation.
Louisa had done her part, and the guests were all going away one after
the other; Joseph Nuessler, who was one of the last, made a half bow to
the lieutenant, and then going up to Mrs. Behrens pressed her hand as
emphatically as if it had been her father who had just died, and said
sorrowfully: "Ah yes, it all depends upon circumstances!"--The parson
had also done his part as well as he could, but it is much easier to
satisfy the hungry stomach with food and wine than to feed the hungry
heart with hope and courage. He gently led the Miss von Rambows from
thoughts of the past to thoughts of the future, and helped them to lay
out a plan for their new life. He advised them as to what was best and
wisest for them to do, and as to where they should live, so that when
they went away with their brother they had gained courage to face what
was before them and consult how they could best arrange their future
lives so as to make the two ends meet.
But other people were also trying to shape the future after their own
fashion. There were not only flowers of mourning and sorrow growing on
the Counsellor's grave, but thistles, nettles and weeds of all kinds
were to be found there sown by the lost happiness of Puempelhagen, and
surrounding all was a thick border of usurer's daisies.[14] He who
would reap that harvest must have no fear of being stung by the
nettles. He who has to deal with nettles must grasp them firmly, and
the man dressed in green-checked trousers, who is now standing in
Guerlitz garden and looking down upon Puempelhagen will seize them
boldly, but he must wait till the right moment comes. The usurer's
daisies must have time to grow and bear seed.
"_That_ stone is well out of my way now," he thought with a smile of
satisfaction, "and it was the cornerstone.--Who is there now?--The
lieutenant?--We'll soon manage him, we'll give him plenty of money on
mortgages, renew his bills, and in short gradually lead him on, and
then we'll have it all our own way. Or, let me see? Mally is a pretty
girl; or Sally; she would do as well. Mr. von Zwippelwitz said the
other day when I was lending him money to buy the sorrel-colt, that
Sally's eyes were like--what was it he said? fire wheels, or
torches?--but it doesn't much matter, Sally will remember.--I know how
to deal with people of this kind now, and there's no fear of my being
taken in.--He'd only do it if his affairs were in a desperate
condition; safe is safe.--Always keep a tight hold of the purse
strings!--If he ever does it there'll be no end of a fuss made;
but he'll never consent till he's at the last gasp.--And what
else?--Hawermann.--The cunning scoundrel!--What?--This very
morning.--He made no sign that he had ever seen me before!--Did he
really think that I should have bowed first?--A fellow like that!--Why
he is in service!--Wait a bit, once let me have the upper hand of the
lieutenant and you shall see my friend!--And then Braesig.--The
rascal!--Does he mean to put another stumbling-block in my way?--Ha,
ha! It's a great joke, the old fool doesn't know that it was I who had
him turned out of Warnitz, that the attorney, acting under my
directions, gave the Count a hint that the farming at Warnitz was
disgracefully bad.--So there Braesig, you are well out of my way now at
Haunerwiem.--And the parson!--Yes, Mr. Behrens.--I was asked to go into
his house to-day, and we were so civil to each other.--Oh! _I_ know
your civility!--There are the glebe-lands right before me.--What?--Deny
me your glebe, and then offer me civility!--Ah! Just wait a little, and
I'll get the better of you all, for I have the power to do so.--I have
_money_."--And with that he slapped his breeches pocket with his fat
hand in the joy of his heart till the gold seals on his watch-chain
danced like a tailor on a meal-tub, but suddenly he became quiet, for a
hard hand tapped him on the shoulder and Henny said: "Muchel, you are
wanted"--"Who is it, my chuck?" asked Pomuchelskopp very gently, for
his wife's presence always subdued him.--"Attorney Slus'uhr, and David
the son of old Moses."--"Capital, capital!" said Pomuchelskopp throwing
his arm round his Henny's waist, so that he looked exactly like a
cucumber hanging to a hop-pole. "Just look at Puempelhagen; what a fine
place it is! Isn't it a shame that it's in such hands?--That both these
men should have come to-day is almost like the leading of Providence,
isn't it, my chick?"--"Ah, it's a toss up, Kopp!--You'd better try
something more likely; but come and speak to those people. Plans such
as you were talking about are too long in coming to pass to please
me."--"Never be in too great a hurry, too great a hurry, chuck," said
Pomuchelskopp as he followed his wife to the house.
Slus'uhr and David were standing in Pomuchelskopp's room, and David was
going through a sort of martyrdom. When he set out that day he had
unfortunately put his large signet-ring on his finger, and fastened his
gold watch-chain across his waist-coat, and, in spite of his unwonted
grandeur, when he entered the room he placed himself modestly with his
back to the window, but Philipp Pomuchelskopp caught sight of the ring,
and Tony of the shining chain, so they fell upon David's jewelry like a
couple of ravens, and pulled at the ring and tugged at the chain, and
while Tony danced upon David's splay feet, Phil who had one knee on a
chair kicked his shins which were his weak point. His flat feet might
be likened to arable land in March, on which the devil had sown a
goodly crop of corns; and his shins had to be tenderly treated because
they alone supported the weight of his body, as nature had not endowed
him with calves to help them in this necessary duty.--The attorney was
standing in the other window in front of Sally's chair. That young lady
was busy making a sofa cushion for her father in tent-stitch. Her work
represented a picture of country life. There was a long barn, and
beside it a plum-tree on which were hanging blue plums as large as your
fist; in front of the barn several hens and a cock with brilliant
plumage were scratching the ground, beyond the fowls was a pond on
which were swimming ducks and geese that were white and beautiful as
swans, and in the foreground was an immense pig, fat and ready for the
butcher.--Old Moses was right, the attorney was the very image of a
rat, his ears were set on his head in the same way as a rat's,
and he was small and thin like all the rats in Rahnstaedt which
had not been fattened in David's warehouse. His complexion was
yellow-grey, his eyes were yellow-grey, and his hair and moustache were
yellow-grey, but Mally and Sally Pomuchelskopp declared that he was
very interesting--Braesig called it, interested--he could talk so
pleasantly.--It was natural that the attorney should like talking of
his own cleverness better than of the folly of other people, for no
business man ever likes to point out a good thing to other people till
he has got all that he can out of it. And how could the attorney help
it, if his cleverness was so great that it could not be hidden? Was it
his fault if his cleverness grew so much that there was no room in his
soul to contain both it and that stupid little virtue honesty, so that
the latter had to be cast out neck and crop?--We men cannot judge such
matters fairly--rats are rats--and as David himself said when rats were
mentioned: They are too much for me.
This afternoon, he was telling with great glee how he had promised to
provide a silly fool with a rich wife, and how he had fleeced him every
time he sent him to pay his court to some impossible person till at
last the stupid idiot had lost almost everything he possessed.--"How
very interesting," tittered Sally as Pomuchelskopp came into the room,
saying: "Ah, here you are!--Glad to see you Mr. Slus'uhr.--How d'ye do,
David!"--Sally was still in fits of laughter, but as father
Pomuchelskopp signed towards the door with his head, she collected her
plums, fowls, ducks, geese and pig, and then saying: "Come away, Tony
and Phil, father's busy," left the room with her brothers.
Pomuchelskopp was always said to be "busy" when he was working amongst
his crop of usurer's daisies.
"Mr. Pomuchelskopp," said David, "I've come about the skins, and I
wanted to speak to you about the wool.--I had a letter ....."--"Why,
what's all this about? wool and skins!" cried the attorney. "You can
arrange that afterwards.--We've come about the business you know
of."--Anyone could see that the attorney was a new-fashioned man of
business who did not like to waste time with a long preface, but who
always came to the point at once, and Mr. Pomuchelskopp no doubt liked
a man of this kind, who grasped his nettles boldly, for he went up to
him, and shaking his hand warmly made him sit on the sofa beside
him.--"Yes," he said, "it's a difficult matter and will take a long
time to settle."--"Hm!--That depends upon how long we hold out. And
difficult?--I've done harder things before now. David has bills to the
amount of three hundred and seventy-five pounds. I myself sent him a
hundred and twenty-five pounds last term. Will you have the bills? Here
they are."--"It's a good investment," said Pomuchelskopp smoothly, and
rising he paid down ready money for the papers the attorney had
brought.--"Will you have mine too?" asked David.--"Yes, I'll take
them," said Pomuchelskopp as benignantly as if he were bestowing a
great favour on the world at large. "But gentleman," he continued, as
he counted out the money, "I have one stipulation to make. You must let
him think that you owe me the full amount of these bills and must have
the money. Just give him a fright, you understand, for if he is left
too quiet, he'll have all his wits about him and will slip out of our
hands, for he can easily raise money elsewhere."--"Yes," said the
attorney, "that isn't a bad plan, I could easily do that; but David has
something to tell you that you ought to know."--"Yes," said David, "I
have had a letter from Mark Seelig in P---- where Mr. von Rambow's
regiment is stationed, and he tells me that he can see you three
hundred pounds worth of the lieutenant's bills. And if you like to have
them, why not buy?"--"Hm!" said Pomuchelskopp, "it's a large sum to pay
at once--but--well you can buy the bills."--"I also have a stipulation
to make," said David, "you must sell me the wool."--"Why not?" asked
the attorney pressing his client's foot with his own. "Why shouldn't he
go and look at it now?"--And Pomuchelskopp took the hint, and civilly
showed David out that he might go and inspect the purchase he intended
to make, and when he returned to his seat the attorney laughed and
said: "We understand each other."--"What do you mean?" asked
Pomuchelskopp startled.--"I have known what you were after all along,
my fine fellow, and if you'll come down handsomely you may do what you
like for all I care."--How frightfully sharp the rascal was!
Pomuchelskopp was breathless. "Mr. Slus'uhr, I don't deny ....."--"You
needn't explain; it isn't necessary; we can understand each other quite
well without that. If matters go as they ought you will be owner of
Puempelhagen before very long, and David will have his percentage, and
I--well I could do the business on my own account, but the place is a
little too large for me--a mill or a farm would suit me better than
such an enormous estate.--It will cost you no end of money."--"That it
will indeed; but never mind. It makes me miserable to see a fine
property like that in such inefficient hands."
The attorney peered at him out at the corner of his eye, as much as to
say: are you in earnest?--"What's the matter? Why are you looking at
me?"--"Ah!" said Slus'uhr, laughing, "you amused me. Two may play at
the same game. You don't really think that you can bring an estate like
Puempelhagen into the market, by buying up bills to the extent of a few
hundred pounds? You'll have to do much more than that, you must get all
the mortgages on the property into your own hands."--"I intend to do
so," whispered Pomuchelskopp. "But how am I to get possession of the
bond for a thousand and fifty pounds which old Moses holds? I'm afraid
there's no hope."--"_I_'ll have nothing to do with Moses, I can tell
you; but there's David, you might get him to manage it. Still, that's
nothing to what will have to be done. You ought to make up to the
lieutenant, pretend to wish him well, and lend him money yourself now
and then when he's in a worse fix than usual, and then you should be
hard up in your turn, and be obliged to sell his bills--to me if you
like--and if you do that I will touch him up a bit, and at length when
the time for the crash comes--you ...."--"Yes, yes," whispered
Pomuchelskopp excitedly, "I'll do it, but I should like to have him at
home first, so you must give him no peace about the bills till he is
forced by the state of his affairs to leave the army."--"Oh, that's
easy enough to manage. If you don't want anything more difficult than
that, it'll all be plain sailing."--"Ah, but there is something else,"
whispered Pomuchelskopp, "_there's Hawermann_; as long as he is in that
puppy's confidence we shall make no way."--"How stupid you are!"
laughed the attorney. "Did you ever hear of a young man confiding his
money-troubles unreservedly to an old friend? No, no! And it's just as
well for us that they never do. If that is all, Hawermann may stay as
long as he likes at Puempelhagen; but wait a moment--perhaps it would be
better that he should go--he's too good a farmer--if he makes
Puempelhagen pay as well for the future as it has done during the last
few years, it will be a long time before it slips out of the
lieutenant's hands."--"Hawermann a good farmer!--He!--Why he tried it
for himself once and failed!"--"You do him injustice there. It is a
great mistake to think your opponent weaker than he really is. He must
go."--"Yes, but how are we to get rid of him?"--"_I_ can't help you
there," laughed the attorney, "but you can manage it when you are
providing the lieutenant with the golden sovereigns he needs so much. A
well-directed hint as to the bailiff's being too old for his place
would have a good effect. The devil will prompt you when the time
comes."--"That's all very well," said Pomuchelskopp impatiently, "but
it's slow work, and my wife is always in such a hurry."--"In this case
she'll have to wait quietly," said the attorney with calm decision. "An
affair of this kind can't be settled in a day. Remember how long
Puempelhagen has belonged to the von Rambow family; you can't expect to
get it away from them at a moment's notice. But now--hush! I hear David
coming, and he must not know what we have been talking about. You
understand, he is to know of nothing but that you like taking up good
bills."
When David entered the room he saw before him a couple of happy faces;
Pomuchelskopp was laughing as if the attorney had been making a good
joke, and the attorney was laughing as if Pomuchelskopp had been
telling an amusing story. But David was not half so stupid as he looked
at that moment, he knew that he had been sent out of the way, and that
his colleagues were laughing at something very different from a
joke.--"They have _their_ secrets," he said to himself, "and I have
_mine_."--So he seated himself at the opposite side of the table to
Pomuchelskopp, and said with the most stupidly unconcerned expression
in the world, such as only a Jewish rogue can put on: "I've seen
it."--"Well?" asked Pomuchelskopp.--"Hm!" said David, shrugging his
shoulders, "you say that it has been washed. Well--perhaps it
has."--"What, don't you believe me? Isn't it as white as
swan's-down?"--"Humph! If you ever saw swan's-down like it, perhaps it
may be like swan's-down."--"What is your offer?"--"Look here! We had a
better from Loewenthal in Hamburg--the great house of Loewenthal in
Hamburg--the price per stone is two pounds three and sixpence."--"Yes,
I know all that; you always get them to write you some scoundrelly
nonsense of that kind."--"A house like that of Loewenthal never advises
one of anything that is not true."--"Come, come," interrupted the
attorney, "this isn't business, it's quarrelling. Suppose you send for
a couple of bottles of wine, Pomuchelskopp, and then you'll both manage
to strike a bargain more easily."--Mr. Slus'uhr insisted on his plan
being acceded to, and the squire had to obey; he rang the bell, and
when Stina Dorothy came in, he said politely and confidentially--for he
was always polite to the members of his own household, above all to the
women, from his Henny down to the nursery-maid:--"Bring two bottles of
wine, Dorothy; the blue seal you know."
When the wine was put on the table Pomuchelskopp filled three glasses,
then taking his, he emptied it at a draught, David merely smelt his,
and when the attorney had finished his glass, he said: "Now, gentlemen,
I've got something to say to you," and as he spoke, he winked across
the table at David, and pressed Pomuchelskopp's foot under the table.
"Suppose, David, you consent to give two pounds five per stone, and you
Pomuchelskopp--pressing his foot again--don't want ready money, a bill
to be paid on S. Antony's day would suit you better if the security is
good."--"Yes," said Pomuchelskopp taking the hint, "and if you give me
your father's bond on Puempelhagen, the security is so good, that I'll
give you the overplus of the wool-money into the bargain"--"There's
nothing to object to in that," said David. "But how about the lumpy
wool?"--No attention was paid to his remark, so he repeated: "How about
the lumpy wool?"--"Oh that," said Pomuchelskopp, "of course you'll only
pay me half...."--"Stop," interrupted the attorney. "You'll get the
lumpy wool for nothing if you bring the bond."--"I don't see anything
against that," said David. When they had finished the wine, and were
going out to their carriage, the attorney whispered jocosely to
Pomuchelskopp: "David might begin the attack on the lieutenant
to-morrow, and next week I can look him up myself."--Pomuchelskopp
pressed his hand as gratefully as if he had just saved Phil from
drowning. As soon as his visitors were gone he went back to his Henny,
and with her assistance they soon arranged the future to their
satisfaction. The attorney sat in the carriage smiling at his good
day's work, he was pleased with himself, for he saw that he was
cleverer than either of the other two; and David sat by his side, and
said to himself: "Let them be. They have their secrets, but I have the
lumpy wool!"
But he had reckoned without his host! When he got home and told his
father of the bargain he had made, and asked for the Puempelhagen bond,
Moses looked over his shoulder at him, and said: "So, you went with
that cut-throat, the attorney, to visit Pomueffelskopp--who is another
cut-throat--and bought his wool; then all that I've got to say is: you
can pay for it with _your own_ bonds, for you shall have none of
_mine_. _You_ may do business with rats if you like, but _I_'ll have
nothing to do with them."--So David's chance of getting the lumpy wool
was small.