The three years since his father's death which Alick had spent with his
regiment, and which he had filled with agricultural study, heroic deeds
and a love-affair, had been equally well employed at Puempelhagen, for
these three occupations had taken as prominent a part in the life of
our old friends there as they had in his. Of the farming there is no
need to speak; but the heroic deeds and the love-affairs might never
have become known, had it not been for Fred Triddelfitz's conduct on
one of the feast-days of the church. The friendship between him and
Mary Moeller had changed from that of a mother and son to that of a
sister and brother; but on her side there was a very tender affection,
which she showed in the way she kept him supplied with ham and
sausages, indeed Mary was sometimes guilty of building up insecure
castles in the air about priests and rings, bridal-wreaths, farms and
self-government, so that the change in her sentiments was not a little
alarming. Then Fred gradually took fright lest Hawermann should
discover his secret luncheons, &c., and that his aunt, and mother, and
father would, when they heard of what he had been doing, lecture him by
the hour, tell him how silly he was, and--in short make it very
disagreeable for him, Taking his love-affairs all together it must be
confessed that though he did not dislike a talk with the twins, or--if
his aunt were well out of the way--with Louisa Hawermann, his greatest
happiness was caused by his friendship with Mary Moeller. The heroic
deeds done at Puempelhagen during these three years were all performed
within his own sphere of action. At first he had only shown his courage
and enterprise secretly to the farm-lads, for if Hawermann had
discovered what he was about, the great glory his cane had won him on
the farmboys' shoulders would have been quickly dissipated. As time
went on he grew bolder from not being found out, and on Palm Sunday
morning he ventured, in an evil hour for himself, to treat one of the
grooms in the same way, but the man was impertinent enough to forget
the respect due to him, and seized him by the collar, and beat him so
hard across the back and shoulders with his own cane, that Mary Moeller
had to spend the greater part of the afternoon in applying damp towels
to his shoulders they--smarted so terribly. The worst of it all was
that every time Mary Moeller laid a cool piece of linen on his back, she
made his conscience prick him by recapitulating all the kindnesses she
had shown him, and in spite of the pain and discomfort from which he
was suffering, asked him point blank what his intentions were, taking
care to assure him at the same time, that she believed in his love, and
that he would be true to her. He did not like that sort of talk at all,
for he himself believed far more strongly in his love for good eating
than in his love for her, and as for his intentions, he would rather
not tell what they were. He stammered a few words of no particular
meaning, and the better his back felt, the less inclined he was to tie
himself down in any way; he tried to turn the conversation to another
subject, but she would not allow that to be done, and laid the damp
linen on his back less gently than at first. "Triddelfitz," she said at
last when she found that she could get no satisfactory answer from him,
"what am I to think of you?" And then, having finished arranging the
linen on his back, she came round in front of him, and putting her arms
akimbo, stared him full in the face. He was rather afraid of what might
follow, and said deprecatingly: "What do you mean, Polly?"--"What do I
mean? Shall I have to tell you more distinctly?" she cried, her eyes
losing their former sweet and loving expression, "am I always to be led
by the nose?" So saying she came dose up to him, and slapped him right
between the shoulders on the top of the bandages.--"Ugh!--Hang it all!"
he shrieked. "That _did_ hurt."--"Ah, that hurt you, did it?" she
asked. "And do you think that it doesn't hurt me to see the man to whom
I have shown so much kindness treating me so deceitfully?"--"Oh, Polly!
What _do_ you mean?"--"What do I mean? This is what I mean!"--thud,
came her hand down on his back.--"Confound it! It's burning like
fire."--"I'm glad to hear it. It's only what you deserve for making a
poor girl believe all your fine speeches and promises."--"Bless me,
Polly, I'm only nineteen!"--"What has that got to do with it?"--"And
then I'd like to take a situation as bailiff somewhere first, and
then----" --"Well, and then what?"--thud, came another slap on the
back.--"For Heaven's sake, mind what you are about! You're hurting me
frightfully."--"Mind what _you_ are about with _me_. Well, and
then?"--"And then I shall be ready to take a farm, and that will be in
about ten years time, I suppose."--"Well, and _then_?" she asked with a
determination that was dreadful to him.--"Yes--and then," Fred
stammered, with a nervous dread of the consequence of what he was going
to say, "you will be too old."--His Polly Moeller stood for a moment as
though rooted to the spot, her eyes blazing with anger, then, bending
forward, she struck him on the mouth with the wet bandages she had in
her hand, and as she did so, the water in the linen fell upon his neck
and ears in spray: "Too _old_? You fool! Too old, did you say?" then
snatching up the basin of water she dashed it over his head and
shoulders, and ran out of the room. While Fred stood there puffing and
blowing, she pushed the door a little open again, and cried: "You'd
better never show your face in my kitchen again."
That was the end of this love-affair, at least for the present, and it
was also the end of the dainty little luncheons eaten in secrecy. Fred
Triddelfitz stood motionless where Mary Moeller had left him, and
thought over the change in his circumstances, and of how essentially
this love-affair of his had differed from all his preconceptions and
from all the novels he had read, and then he made use in his ill-humour
of the same expression that he had used when, soon after his arrival at
Puempelhagen, he had been sent road-mending on a rainy day in November:
"I never thought it would be as bad as this!--What a blessing," he
added, "that the governor is out, otherwise he'd have been certain to
have heard the row she made."
Hawermann and Frank had gone to church at Guerlitz that morning. The
farmer walked on silently, his heart full of love and gratitude to God
for all His fatherly goodness to him and to his child who was to be
confirmed on that Palm Sunday morning. As he went down the dry
foot-path--there had been a slight frost during the night--his eyes
rested on the bright scene before him, the snow was still lying in
white patches beside the ditches, and under the shade of the dark
pines, while the rye-fields with their tender green carpet on which the
sun poured down its golden light, announced that Easter was nigh, and
quietly awaited the promised resurrection. The smoke rising from the
chimneys of the small villages round about was gilded by the sun's
rays, showing how little the aspect of nature is affected by the cares
and troubles of man, and from the church-towers on every hand was to be
heard a solemn peal ringing over woods and meadows.--"Ah, if she had
only lived to see this day!" said the old man aloud, forgetting that he
was not alone.--"Who?" asked Frank with some hesitation, and fearing
lest he might be thought intrusive.--"My poor wife, the mother of my
dear child," the old man answered softly, as he turned his honest face
and looked kindly at the youth at his side, as much as to say: My face
and my heart tell the same tale, as you would know if you could only
read my thoughts.--"Yes," he went on, "my good wife. But what am I
saying? She sees our child better than I can, she does more for her
than I can, and her thoughts are higher than the blue heavens, and her
joy purer than the golden sunlight."--Frank walked on in silence not
wishing to disturb the bailiff; he had never before felt such a deep
reverence for his dear old friend, and now as he looked at him, and saw
his white hair lying on his broad forehead as white and pure as those
patches of snow on the ground, and read in his expression a full
assurance of hope, and a calm faith in the resurrection, such as was
also to be seen in the face of nature, for while his countenance was
irradiated with the sunshine of love, the earth was bathed in that of
the golden sun. At last he could resist the impulse no longer, and
seized the old man's hand, saying: "Hawermann, dear Hawermann, you must
have had a great deal of sorrow during your life."--"Not more," was the
answer, "than other people have, but enough for me to remember as long
as I live."--"Will you tell me about it? It is not curiosity that makes
me ask."--"Why not?" he said, and then he told him his whole story, but
without once mentioning Pomuchelskopp's name; "and," he said in
conclusion, "as my child was once my only comfort, she is now my only
joy."
While thus talking they reached the parsonage. Little Mrs. Behrens had
grown rather older and rounder in the last few years, and did not trot
about the house quite so restlessly as she used to do. To-day she sat
perfectly still, leaving her duster to lie idly in its drawer, where it
found life as dull as a pug-dog in a toy kennel; for the solemnity of
the act to be performed that day in church forbade her attending to
matters belonging only to the work-a-day world, above which she was
raised for the time being by reason of her position of clergyman's
wife, which made her the "nearest" to those taking part in the
ceremony. Still, try as she might she could not keep quite motionless,
and though she did not bustle about from place to place as usual, she
could not resist going to see how her pastor was getting on, and then
tying his bands for him and giving him a glass of wine; after that she
went in search of Louisa, straightened her ruffles and whispered words
of love and encouragement in her ear, and now that young Joseph, Mrs.
Nuessler, the little twins and Braesig had come, she was just about to
resume her customary ways of going on when the church-bell rang out its
last peal. The twins were also to be confirmed, and when Mrs. Behrens
saw the three pretty children--Lina and Mina on either side of Louisa,
who was a head taller than her little cousins--walking up the
church-yard path, her eyes filled with tears: "Hawermann," she said,
"our child has no gold chains and brooches such as it is now the
foolish fashion for girls to wear at their confirmation; and, dear
Hawermann, that black silk is thirty years old, I wore it last on the
first Sunday I went to church after my marriage, and a happy heart beat
within it I can assure you, for it was full of love to my pastor--I
never wore it afterwards for it soon grew too tight for me, I was
always rather stout, and so you see it is as good as new, and no one
would ever find out that a bit had been added to the bottom of the
skirt to lengthen it. And, Hawermann, I have put the money you gave
me to buy a new dress into Louisa's purse. You are not angry with
me, I hope? I wanted so much to see my gown in all its old glory
again."--When they got to the church-door Braesig pulled Hawermann back
by the coat, and then said, looking at him with great emotion the
while: "A confirmation such as this is a remarkable thing, a _very_
remarkable thing, Charles. When I saw the three little girls going on
before us I suddenly remembered my own confirmation which put an end to
that dreadful work of herding sheep which I hated so at my father's,
and permitted me to do some real farming. Just as these three little
girls are going to church, I went with my companions, Charles Brandt
and Christian Guhl, only that we did not wear black silk gowns; no,
Christian had on a green coat, Charles, a brown one, and mine was grey;
and instead of the nosegay of flowers that the little girls are
carrying in their hands, we had each a small green sprig in our
button-holes, and then we did not walk in a row like these children,
but followed each other in single file like geese on their way to the
pond.--Ah yes, it was just like this."
When the congregation had sung a hymn, Mr. Behrens preached his sermon.
He had grown much older looking, but his voice was strong, his thoughts
were well and clearly expressed, and his words were uttered with a
gentle dignity. Age is less injurious to a clergyman's influence than
to that of any one else, if only the man is worthy of his office. His
people not only hear his words but look back upon the course of his
long, true and honourable life and see in him a living example of
goodness, as well as a mere preacher of it.--And that was the case with
parson Behrens.
Now was the time for the examination, and the young girls took off
their shawls. Louisa clasped her arms round her father and
foster-mother with tears in her eyes; and Mrs. Nuessler kissed her
twin-daughters lovingly; young Joseph wanted to say something, but said
nothing after all, and then the three children left the parsonage pew
and took their places at the altar.--"I wonder," said Braesig to Frank,
who was standing beside him, "how the little round-heads will get
through their examination, I'm afraid that my god-daughter Mina will
break down completely." And then he blew his nose and wiped his eyes.
Frank made him no answer, he had lost sight of all but one face, and
that face which he knew so well had a look on it to-day that he had
never seen before; he saw but one form, usually so graceful and active,
but now slightly bent with a feeling of solemnity and awe, and the
hands which had always given him such eager welcome were now raised in
devotion, and it seemed to him as if God Himself were standing by the
bending figure in the simple black dress, within which Mrs. Behrens'
heart had once beat so happily, and showed him the purity of the heart
that was now within it and told him to see that his heart was fit to
take its place by hers. He felt as if he had been accustomed to see a
beautiful landscape brilliant with sunshine and had had no thought
awakened by its beauty but one of careless enjoyment, but now he felt
as if he had returned to the same place after a long absence, and saw
it bathed in the calm, pure light of the moon, and lo, all was changed.
It seemed to him as though there were a weight upon his heart, and he
were begging for mercy with supplicating hands raised to heaven, and he
was filled with a deep compassion for himself, for he felt what a poor,
miserable gift his heart would be were he to presume to offer it to
such loveliness. And this deep compassion for oneself, this secret
craving for a better heart, which comes over us when our eyes are
opened to see that moonlight loveliness, we children of men call
"love."
Braesig stood beside him and every now and then whispered a few words to
him which he did not hear, and which, if he had heard, he would have
thought great nonsense. Perhaps he might even have been angry if he had
listened to what was said to him, and yet the old bailiff only spoke as
he felt, for he had lost the rose coloured spectacles of youth, and saw
everything through a greyer medium. Braesig underwent a frightful
martyrdom while the examination was going on; he was so terrified lest
his god-daughter Mina should break down, and every time she answered a
question rightly he gave vent to such a tempestuous sigh, that if Mr.
Behrens had been a clergyman of the new school, he would have imagined
that he had brought some miserable sinner to repent in dust and
ashes.--"God be praised and thanked!" murmured the sinner, "Mina knows
her catechism." Then going up to Frank: "It's coming now, only listen."
And getting round to the other side of Hawermann: "Do listen, Charles.
Mina will have it. Mina will have to answer the great water question. I
knew it quite well, but Christian Guhl couldn't answer it, so I was
made to say it instead. I've forgotten all but the beginning now: 'For
water truly accomplishes nothing, but only the spirit of God.'"--While
Mina gave the answer without hesitation the old man repeated it
after her word for word. The churchwarden now came up with the
collecting-bag, and Braesig dropped half-a-crown into it with a bang, as
though he expected his donation to buy him freedom from the weight of
his anxiety. He then turned round, and seizing Mrs. Nuessler by the
hand, exclaimed almost aloud: "_Did_ you hear our little roundheads?"
after which he blew his nose so loudly that Mrs. Nuessler had to
remonstrate with him for disturbing the congregation.
If anyone had examined the tie that bound Braesig to little Mina, a tie
which was founded on the memory of his old affection for her mother, it
would have been found to be quite as strong, although much calmer than
that by which Frank wished to bind Louisa to himself.--Love is
manifold, and reveals itself in the most unexpected forms. It flies up
to heaven on rosy pinions, and walks the earth clumsily in wooden
shoes; it speaks with "tongues" as the apostles did on that first
Whitsunday-morning, and again it sits by our side like an innocent
child; it gives the loved one diamonds and coronets, or acts like old
bailiff Schecker, who paid his court to my aunt Schaening by presenting
her with a fat capon.
When the confirmation ceremony was over and the Holy Communion had been
for the first time received by the young people, Mr. Behrens retired to
the vestry, and Samuel Pomuchelskopp, whose son Tony was one of those
confirmed on that day, stalked past the clergyman's pew, in his best
blue coat, and followed him there. Instead of going into the room he
merely put his head in at the door--"To show everyone what a noodle he
is," whispered Braesig to Hawermann--and in a loud voice, as if he had
been at market instead of in church, invited the parson to come up to
the manor-house and have some broth, roast-beef and a bottle of red
wine with him.--"That everyone may hear what a confounded Jesuit he
is," whispered Braesig.--The clergyman regretted that he could not
accept the invitation, as he was not only rather tired, but also
expected some friends to dinner at the parsonage. As Pomuchelskopp went
away he glanced over his shoulder at the occupants of the parsonage
pew, and was about to bow with such condescension that it would have
been a pleasure to look at him, when he caught sight of the quizzical
expression of Braesig's face. Our old friend was what Mrs. Behrens, if
she had seen him at that moment, would have called too bad a Christian
to keep his evil thoughts from showing themselves in his face even when
he was in God's own house.--How different he looked a few minutes later
when the three young girls came up to receive his kiss and blessing
after they had had those of their parents and foster-parents. He raised
his eyebrows as high as he could, and frowned solemnly, so as to make
himself look as paternal as possible. And he succeeded very well as far
as Louisa and Lina were concerned, but when his little Mina came to
him, he felt as if he himself were a child again, and caught her in his
arms, saying so that she only could hear: "Never mind, Mina, never
mind. I'll give you something nice." And because he could think of
nothing suitable on the spur of the moment, and chanced to have
his handkerchief in his hand, he added: "I'll give you a dozen
pocket-handkerchiefs--nice bright ones too." For he wanted to do the
thing well when he was about it.
All of the company had now offered their good wishes and had kissed the
children, but two of their number had come off badly in this respect.
Young Joseph only got half a kiss, and Frank got none at all. As far as
young Joseph was concerned it was his own fault, for he had squeezed
himself into a corner of the seat in such a way that the girls could
only get at the small right side of his mouth, while the left, and
larger half was completely hidden by the wood-work of the pew. And
Frank--he had not yet come down to earth, he was raised in thought far
above all sublunary things, and it was not till they had reached the
church-door that he took Louisa's hand in his and said something to
her, but what it was he could not have told five minutes later.--He was
in love. That beautiful face with its look of rapt devotion had
conquered him--and for ever.
It is possible that some punctilious matron, or perhaps some
very strict maiden lady--whether old or merely come to years of
discretion--may be displeasured with this part of my story, and ask me:
"Why did the young man not look out for a suitable wife elsewhere if he
must needs do such a worldly thing as fall in love?"--To which I can
only reply: "Honoured Madam, or most respected Miss so and so, the
young man was so new to those little affairs, of which you, from your
earlier experience, have such a thorough comprehension, that he did not
regard falling in love as at all a worldly action. And when and where
ought a young man to fall in love? Is such a thing only allowable at a
garden party in summer, or during the cotillon at a ball in winter? If
there are many roads leading to Rome there are far more which lead to
marriage, and he who can date the beginning of his journey along one of
these roads from a meeting in church, is much wiser than he who sets
out from a ball-room. In the first instance the altar is near at hand,
and in the second there is often a long and miry lane to be traversed
before the lovers can reach the altar, so that thin shoes and boots are
sometimes worn and travel-stained when they enter the holy estate of
matrimony. Do you not agree with me, honoured Madam. Am I not right,
most respected Miss so and so?"
A simple repast was set out in the parsonage. Braesig was in high
spirits and beamed upon every one like sunshine after rain. The old
clergyman was also cheerful, for like Solomon he knew that there is a
time for every purpose, "a time to cast away stones, and a time to
gather stones together;" but still the remembrance of what had taken
place that morning was strong upon them all, and neither Mrs. Behrens
nor Mrs. Nuessler recovered the full use of their tongues until they
were sitting over the coffee-table. Immediately after dinner the old
clergyman went to lie down on the sofa in his study to rest after his
exertions, and enjoy a quiet nap. Hawermann went out for a walk with
his daughter and his two nieces, for he thought that the calm beauty of
the spring-day would soothe the excitement in their young hearts, and
Frank went with them, his heart full of the influence of the spring of
love newly awakened within him. Joseph Nuessler found a corner which was
almost as comfortable as his favourite seat at home, and Braesig paced
up and down the room with a long pipe in his mouth. Since he had had
his pension he had entirely changed the character of his walk, and
turned out his feet far more than of old, indeed it may be said that
when his face was turned to the north his feet pointed due east and
west. He did it to show that he was his own master, and to prove that
long years of walking over ploughed fields had not destroyed his grace
of movement, or prevented his appearing worthy of his new position,
that of a gentleman at large. The two ladies seated themselves on the
sofa above which the pictures were hung.
"Yes, dear Mrs. Nuessler," said Mrs. Behrens, "thank God, the children
have done well so far. Louisa is now sixteen and a half, and your girls
are six months older than she is. My pastor says, and I know that he is
right, that they are well educated, and so if ever they have to work
for themselves they are quite able to do so. They might get situations
as governesses any day."--Braesig came to a standstill, raised his
eyebrows, and blew such a thick cloud of smoke towards the sofa that
even young Joseph was amazed.--"Ah, yes," replied Mrs. Nuessler, "and
the children have to thank you and Mr. Behrens for that," here she
seized her friend's hand. "Brother Charles and I have often agreed that
though we were quite able to provide them with their daily bread, to
see that their dresses were neat and suitable, and to teach them to be
honest and truthful, and everything that relates merely to domestic
life, still we were not capable of teaching them such things as make
human beings worthy of the name. Am I not right Joseph?"--A comfortable
grunt of acquiescence came from behind the stove, it was a sound
resembling that which a faithful old dog would utter when his back was
stroked by a friendly hand.--"Did you hear, Mrs. Behrens? Joseph quite
agrees with me."--"Don't say that please," remonstrated Mrs. Behrens,
not wishing to be thanked, "I've done very little for your girls after
all, it was different with Louisa of course, for I was the nearest to
her. But--what I was going to say was this--we've never spoken of it
before--do you intend one of your children, Mina perhaps, to go out as
a governess?"--"_What_?" cried Mrs. Nuessler, staring at the clergyman's
wife in as great astonishment as if she had just announced that Mina
has serious intentions of having herself elected pope of Rome, but when
Mrs. Behrens began to explain her meaning more clearly, Braesig
interrupted her by bursting into a hearty fit of laughter: "Ha, ha, ha!
What a joke! What a joke! Did hear, young Joseph? Our little Mina a
governess! ha, ha!"--Mrs. Behrens sat stiffly back in her corner
like a doll that had had its ears bored, her rosy turned purple with
anger, and her lilac cap-rib vibrated with every word as she said
indignantly: "What are you laughing at, Braesig? Are you laughing
at me, pray? Are you laughing because I thought that Mina might become
a governess? Perhaps, Mr. bailiff Braesig," she continued drawing
herself up proudly, "you are not aware that _I_ was a governess once,
and that teaching children is a _very_ different thing from beating
farm-lads?"--"Ah, but--don't be angry, Mrs. Behrens--ha, ha, ha!--our
Mina a governess."--But Mrs. Behrens had lost her temper too completely
to be able to remain silent, so she went on excitedly: "There is a
great difference between educated and uneducated people; a person like
_you_ could never governess!"
As she uttered these words her parson, who been wakened by Braesig's
laughter, entered the room. He was struck by the comicality of the
idea, and being too short-sighted to see his wife's angry face,
laughing: "Ha, ha! Braesig a governess!"--A great change came over Mrs.
Behrens on her husband's entrance; although she had been boiling over
with wrath the moment before, the mere fact of his presence seemed to
cast oil on the troubled waters, and she grew calm and quiet. She was
sometimes guilty of uttering a hasty word, or of reddening with anger
when he was in the room, but she had never yet given way to a regular
fit of passion in his presence, and so her honest round face, which
only a moment ago was flushed with anger, now glowed with a deeper
blush of shame at the thought that she, a clergyman's wife, had so far
forgotten herself, and on such a day too. The feeling of shame drove
away the last remnants of her anger, and when she heard her own words
repeated, that Braesig could never be a governess, she hid her face in
her handkerchief and laughed heartily though silently.
Mrs. Nuessler had been sitting on thorns during the scene between Mrs.
Behrens and Braesig, and when the parson came in, she sprang to her
feet, exclaiming: "Oh, reverend Sir, I am the innocent cause of the
quarrel. Braesig, have done with your stupid laughter. Bless me, if Mrs.
Behrens thinks that my Mina ought to be a governess--I have no
objection. If you and Mrs. Behrens really think it better for her, I
will give my consent, for you've always given me good advice. Don't you
agree with me, Joseph?"--Joseph came out from behind the stove as he
answered: "Yes. It all depends upon circumstances; if she ought to go,
let her go." As soon as he had finished speaking he left the room, most
probably to consider the matter in solitude.--"What is the meaning of
all this?" asked the clergyman, "are you in earnest, Regina?"--Mrs.
Nuessler approached the little lady anxiously: "Never mind, Mrs.
Behrens.--I hope you're ashamed of yourself, Braesig?--Dear Mrs.
Behrens, don't cry any more," and as she spoke she drew the
handkerchief away from her friend's face gently, but on seeing the
laughing face raised to hers she started back a step or two,
exclaiming: "Why, what's all this!"--"Only a misunderstanding,
neighbour," said the old gentleman smiling. "No one ever thought
seriously that Mina ought to be a governess. No, our children shall
never swell the number of poor unhappy girls who are knocked about from
place to place in the world, and earn their bread as dependents. No,
our children shall, please God, become good wives, and notable
mistresses of households, and in course of time they may with our full
consent become governesses--to their own children."--"Reverend Sir--dear
Mr. Behrens," cried Mrs. Nuessler, looking as if she were relieved from
a terrible dread, "God bless you for saying that. Our Mina shall not be
a governess. Joseph--where are you, Joseph? Ah, he must have gone out
to hide his grief. Yes, Mr. Behrens, she shall learn to be a good
housekeeper. You shall see that I'll do my best to teach her
thoroughly."--"Yes," cried Braesig, "and she must be able to cook a good
dinner."--"Of course, Braesig. Ah, Mr. Behrens, I found all the
governesses that I tried such a handful! And last week I went to
call on the wife of the new deputy sheriff--she had once been a
governess--and I found her a weakly sort of creature who moves about
the house as listlessly as if she couldn't be troubled with anything,
and then she's one of those sort of people who always wants what
she can't get. She's a poor white-faced thing, and looks as if she
thought herself a sweet holy martyr--interesting looking, _she_ calls
it."--"Bosh!" said Braesig.--"And, Mrs. Behrens," continued Mrs.
Nuessler, "she always has the eggs hard boiled, and the roasts burnt in
her house. Good gracious! I'm not one of those who say that women ought
not to be educated, and well educated too, so that they may be able to
read the newspapers, and may know all about old Fritz and his people,
and may even be able to tell in what countries the orange and
quinine-trees are to be found; still, these things are only pleasant to
know, they are not necessary; and, Mrs. Behrens, I always say that if
any woman doesn't know that sort of thing she can always wait till she
meets some one learned enough to give her the information she requires;
but, Mrs. Behrens, knowing how meat ought to be roasted is a different
thing altogether! There can be no question of waiting in such a case,
for dinner comes at a regular hour, and, living in the country as I do,
Mrs. Behrens, there is no one I can trust to look after these things,
except a stupid servant who'd be sure to make some dreadful mistake if
she were left to herself."--"You're quite right, neighbour," said the
clergyman, "the girls must learn to be good housekeepers."--"That's
what I say, reverend Sir, that's just what I say. Goodness gracious me!
That poor little woman, the deputy sheriffs wife, knows nothing about
house-keeping. Only fancy! She asked me how many pairs of shoes my
children wore out in the year when they were seven years old; she asked
me how we milked the pigs at Rexow, and she asked me what the chickens
said. Ah, reverend Sir, Louisa must not be a governess either."--"No,
we don't want her to be one, and as Hawermann thinks as we do on the
subject, it is arranged that she should remain here and learn
housekeeping. Regina is beginning to take things too easily, and,"
seating himself on the sofa beside his wife, and putting his arm round
her waist, "she is growing too old to have so much on her hands, so she
is glad to have a young girl to help her to manage the house, and
besides that, she could not bear to part with Louisa."--"You would like
it even less than I should, pastor. I'm beginning to feel myself quite
shelved, I assure you, it's 'Louisa bring me this,' and 'Louisa get me
that' from morning till night."--"Well, well, I don't deny it, I should
miss the child terribly if she were to go away."
Hawermann now came back with the children and Frank. When they had
nearly reached the door they saw young Joseph walking excitedly up and
down the garden. As she approached him, he went up to his daughter
Mina, and taking her in his arms, kissed her and said: "It isn't my
fault, Mina," and when Hawermann asked him what was the matter, he
merely answered: "Brother-in-law, what must be, must be." When the
party was separating to go home, and Joseph was seated in the carriage,
he felt as if he were driving a victim up to the sacrificial altar.
Although his wife explained the whole matter thoroughly to him, and
told him that Mina was not to be a governess, the conversation at the
parsonage had made such an indelible impression on him, that he could
never get over the idea that Mina had a sorrowful life before her. From
this time forward he always made her sit beside him at dinner, and gave
her all the little titbits in the dish before him, as if each meal were
to be the last before her sorrows began.