All was quiet at Rexow. That is to say amongst the labourers, Mrs.
Nuessler and Rudolph; but young Joseph and young Bolster were not quite
so easy in their minds. Young Bolster had gone into the cow-house one
day and had there seen a little puppy under the charge of Flasskopp the
cow-man. Now this puppy was the very image of himself, and what was
more, it was also called Bolster. He remembered his own youth perfectly
and how he had succeeded Bolster "the sixth" on the throne of Rexow,
and so after much gloomy thought he came to the conclusion that this
small image of himself, which Joseph Flasskopp was rearing so carefully
on nice sweet milk, might possibly succeed him under the name of
"Bolster the eighth"; indeed that was very likely in the present state
of affairs. He was miserable, but did not know what ought to be done.
Should he divide his power with Bolster the eighth, or should he treat
him as a pretender to the throne, drink up the sweet milk in the dish
before his very eyes, pick a quarrel with him and send him off on a
long journey on the other side of the Rexow territory; in short, get
rid of him altogether. He looked up at young Joseph for advice, but
young Joseph had enough to do attending to his own affairs. The times
were so bad that even these two old friends ceased to share each
other's thoughts; both of them were restless and anxious, but from
opposite causes. Bolster shuddered at the thought of an heir to his
throne, while nothing would serve Joseph but instant abdication of his
rights. Bolster, after having tasted the pleasures of power, hated the
idea of retiring into private life and getting bones without any meat
on them, while Joseph regarded private life as a golden cup which Mina
should fill with coffee every morning, which his wife should fill with
beer at dinner and with chocolate in the evening, and which should
contain punch every time that Braesig came to stay with them. He was
determined to give up the reins of government, especially at the
present moment when his pipe might be put out by keeping them. He
continued to read the Rostock newspaper, but would often throw it
aside, and say crossly: "They've never taken any notice of the geese
yet, mother." He imagined that everyone looked upon him as a hard
master, because he had, by Rudolph's advice, bought up his labourers'
right of keeping geese for a round sum, and as he had subscribed to the
Rostock paper for forty years, he looked upon it as the duty of the
paper to take his part about the geese. The Rostock paper might have
done this quite easily I think, for Joseph was as innocent of doing
wrong as a new born child, but perhaps the editor may have forgotten to
notice the circumstance, or he may even never have heard of it at all.
Joseph could not get it out of his head. If he saw two farm lasses
talking together about their cap ribbons, he thought they were saying
that no goose's eggs were to be set that year at Rexow; and if two
labourers threshing out the oats stopped their work for a minute and
talked about the oats, he thought they were complaining of having no
geese to eat some of the grain they were threshing. He felt lost in
these new times and could not understand the new arrangements
introduced into the farm. He would not consent to rule any longer, he
was determined to abdicate, and as Bolster was of a different opinion
the bond uniting them burst.
As I said before, Mrs. Nuessler was herself quiet and calm, but Joseph's
condition began to make her anxious, and she continually hoped that
Braesig would come. "I wonder," she said to Rudolph one day, "why Braesig
hasn't come to see us. He has nothing earthly to do, and yet he never
looks near me."--"Ah, mother," answered Rudolph, "you know him; when
he has nothing to do, he always makes himself work. But he's coming
to-morrow all the same."--"How do you know that?" asked Mrs.
Nuessler.--"Well, you see, mother," said Rudolph rather shyly, "I was
over at our rye field by the Guerlitz march this morning, and as I was
there at any rate, I--I just ran into the parsonage for a moment.
Braesig was there, and he told me he was coming here to-morrow."--"Now,
Rudolph, I won't have it. Remember that I don't allow you to be running
over there. It's quite different when I can go with you on Sundays. You
go and chatter to each other, and you put all kinds of nonsense into
Mina's head about marriage and such like things, and yet you know that
that can't be yet awhile."--"Why, mother, if we don't marry soon we'll
be growing too old and cold for such a thing."--"Rudolph," said Mrs.
Nuessler, as she left the room, "what's to become of Joseph and me if
you do. We are still young and have plenty of work in us. Are we to be
shelved before our time?"--"Nay," answered Rudolph after she was gone,
"you're not so very young now. Old people should rest. Uncle Joseph
would be only too thankful to retire, but my aunt has work enough in
her to kill off three young women. Well, Braesig's coming to-morrow, and
I'll prompt him a bit."
Next day Braesig arrived. "Good morning," he said. "Sit still, Joseph.
Well, have you got a small rebellion here too?"--"Ah," said Joseph
smoking like a chimney, "what's to be done now--Bolster?" He pretended
to be speaking to Bolster, for Braesig had left the room before he had
had time to finish his sentence, and was now calling Mrs. Nuessler in
the passage.--"Good gracious, Braesig," she said, drying her hands on
her apron, for she had been washing them when she was called away, as
she had been busy baking and did not wish to give her old friend a
floury hand to shake. "Good gracious, Braesig, why don't you come to see
us in these bad times? How's my brother Charles?"--"'Bonus', as lawyer
Rein would say, or 'Bong', as the grey-hound would put it, or 'he's in
very good case', as I should say myself. The only pity is that he
_will_ go on thinking about the loss of his good name, and of the
separation of little Louisa and Frank. These inward sorrows prevent him
interesting himself in the doings of the Reform-club, of parliament,
and in great political thoughts."--"Thank God!" replied Mrs. Nuessler.
"I know my brother Charles too well to think that he'd even mix himself
up with such folly."--"Mrs. Nuessler," returned Braesig drawing himself
up and looking his old love full in the face, "you have unintentionally
said a great thing, as rector Baldrian said the other day when the
potato-ground of the labourers was spoken about; but in these times one
must take care what one says--They turned Kurz out the other day--and
as I am a member of the Reform-club I can't allow the word 'folly' to
be applied to our doings."--"Mercy me!" cried Mrs. Nuessler putting her
arms akimbo, "I really believe that you'll want to turn me out of my
own kitchen next."--"Did I ever say so?" asked Braesig. "They've turned
out Louis Philippe, and the Bavarian Louis, and Louis Kurz; is _your_
name 'Louis'? No, I came here to see that you were all right. If the
revolution should break out here I'll come to your assistance with the
Rahnstaedt club, and the civic guard--we've all got ourselves pikes as
well as muskets: I'll protect you, never fear."--"You shan't come here
with your pikes and muskets," cried Mrs. Nuessler, "tell your wretched
rabble from me that they'd better provide themselves with an extra set
of legs and arms before they venture into my farm-yard, for if
they come here they shall lose those they have," so saying Mrs.
Nuessler turned round and going into her larder, shut and locked the
door.--Those were sad times when the devil sowed the seeds of dispeace
between old friends. Braesig waited as long as Bolster had often done
before, expecting the larder door to open every minute, and when it did
not, he returned to Joseph in the parlour with his ears hanging like
Bolster's under the same circumstances. "Yes," he said to Joseph,
"these are dreadful times, and yet there you sit moving neither hand
nor foot, although rebellion has broken out in your own house."--"Ah,
Braesig, I know that, it's because of the geese," said young Joseph;
"but what can be done? I say, Braesig, help yourself to a little
kuemmel," pointing with his foot at the lowest shelf of the
wine-cupboard, "you'll find the bottle there."
Braesig thought a good deal of a little kuemmel! He went to the window
and looked out at the weather. The wind was driving sharp spring
showers over the sky, and these as they passed away were succeeded by
bursts of sunshine. In like manner one sad gloomy thought after another
came into his head: "What?" he said to himself, "and _this_ is to be
the end of it? She thrusts me from her side when I am trying to help
her!" Then the sun's rays once more penetrated his heart, but with a
clear cold light which did not soften him, and he added with a scornful
smile: "Ha! ha! I wish I could see her fighting against the whole of
the Rahnstaedt civic guard, headed of course by Wimmersdorf, the tailor,
and the wise old dyer 'For my part'!"--At this moment Rudolph crossed
the yard, and seeing Braesig at the window, came in, as he wanted to
speak to him. "How-d'ye-do, uncle Braesig."--"How-d'ye-do, Rudolph. How
are you getting on? I mean the labourers? Is all quiet?"--"Yes, quite.
There has been no difficulty as yet."--"Ah, but you'll see that this
affair of the geese ...." interrupted young Joseph.--"Never mind the
geese, father," said Rudolph.--"What's all this about the confounded
geese?" asked Braesig.--"Nothing," said Rudolph. "You see I had such a
deal of trouble about those geese, they destroyed the edges of the
ditches, they eat up our young cabbages and did a lot of damage to the
corn, so I called all the labourers together and promised them twelve
shillings each at harvest time if they'd give up keeping geese. They
agreed readily to my proposal, but my uncle has taken it into his head
that the villagers all look upon him as a monster, and that there will
be a rebellion about the geese."--"Goodness gracious me!" cried Mrs.
Nuessler coming in, "the geese again!" and throwing her apron over her
face, she burst into tears.--"Why, mother," exclaimed Rudolph springing
to her side, "what's the matter? What has gone wrong?"--"What's to be
done now?" asked Joseph rising.--Braesig would also have spoken if he
had not guessed that he knew more of what was passing in Mrs. Nuessler's
heart than any of the others, so he turned away to the window and stood
there gazing hard at the April weather with his eyebrows raised as high
as they would go.--Mrs. Nuessler at last got up, dried her eyes, put
aside both Rudolph and Joseph--rather hastily too--went up to Braesig,
and throwing her arms round his neck, exclaimed: "I know that you meant
me well, Braesig, and I won't hack off anyone's arms or legs."--"Oh,
Mrs. Nuessler," said Braesig with a very April face, for he was smiling
with tears in his eyes, "you have my full permission to treat
Wimmersdorf, the tailor, and the would-be wise old dyer 'For my
part' as you like."--"What _is_ the meaning of all this?" asked
Rudolph.--"I'll tell you," said Braesig, freeing himself gently from
Mrs. Nuessler's embrace, and taking her by the hand, "and it's this.
You've got a real angel for a mother-in-law. Not a so-called angel such
as you meet at balls and in the promenade at Rahnstaedt, but the grand
old kind we read about in the Old Testament; a warlike good angel, who
doesn't fear the devil in a good cause, and is worth three of you any
day." With that he turned upon Rudolph as though he had done Mrs.
Nuessler some great wrong.--"Preserve us!" cried Rudolph. "I've done
nothing that I know of," and he looked at Joseph, who looked at
Bolster, but neither could help him, so Rudolph added: "I really don't
know what ....."--"It isn't necessary," said Braesig, then turning to
Joseph: "and as for you, young Joseph, if you don't look out there'll
be a revolution in the house, and all because of your stupidity about
the geese. The best thing you can do is to sit there quietly. Now then,
Rudolph, come away with me, I want to look over the farm and see what
you have learnt from Hilgendorf."
Sitting still was what Joseph liked better than anything else, and
going out with Braesig gave Rudolph the very opportunity he wanted to
egg his old friend on to arrange that his marriage should soon take
place. So neither of them made any objection to Braesig's decree.
Fred Triddelfitz came to the farm that afternoon as he was out riding
at any rate. He was mounted on a horse with a very extraordinary
action, for it walked like a human being with its fore feet, and never
thought it incumbent on it to use more than three legs at a time, thus
showing that nature sometimes puts herself to unnecessary trouble by
creating a superfluous limb, for instance the tail of a Dandie Dinmont,
the ears of a pug and the left hind leg of a horse that finds three
legs sufficient for its wants. Fred's steed was by no means beautiful,
especially when in motion; but he was a very courteous animal and kept
on bowing the whole way along the public road. In this respect he
suited Fred very well, for the lad had grown to have extremely good
manners from his intercourse with Mr. von Rambow. When anyone made game
of his horse Fred used to smile and say to himself: "You fools! I've
always made by my horses. I was paid in ready money when I exchanged
the sorrel-mare for the black, the black for the brown, and then
the brown for this horse." The horse bowed itself politely into the
farm-yard at Rexow where Fred dismounted politely, went into the house
politely, and said: "How-d'ye-do" politely.--"Mother," said young
Joseph, "give Mr. Triddelfitz something to drink," for they happened to
be at coffee at the time.--"Bless me!" thought Braesig. "He's called
_Mr_. Triddelfitz now, is he?"--Meanwhile Fred divested himself of his
waterproof coat, took something out of his pocket, and sitting down,
placed a pistol to the right and left of his coffee cup.--"Sir," cried
Braesig, "the devil take you and your pistols! What makes you put these
infernal implements on the coffee table amongst our cups?"--Then Mrs.
Nuessler rose quietly, and taking the fire-arms in one hand, lifted the
tea kettle with the other and poured hot water down the muzzles of the
pistols, saying calmly: "There now, they can't go off."--"Oh, dear!"
cried Fred, "that was the last shot we had ....."--"Sir," interrupted
Braesig, "do you think that you're in a robber's cave when you come to
see young Joseph?"--"The whole world is a robber's den just now," replied
Fred, "Mr. von Rambow proved that clearly in his speech to the labourers
yesterday, and so I went to Rahnstaedt and bought these two pistols--one
of them for him--we are going to defend ourselves to the death."--Mrs.
Nuessler looked at Braesig with a half ashamed smile, and Braesig burst
into a roar of laughter: "And so you and Mr. von Rambow think you'll be
able to stop the labourer's mouths with a speech and a pair of
pistols!"--"Yes, the squire told the people plainly that he would rule
them mildly but strictly, and that they must do as they were
desired."--"Ah well, it all depends upon circumstances," interposed
Joseph.--"You may be right this time, young Joseph," said Braesig,
"for every man must cut his coat according to his cloth, but Mr. von
Rambow is not the man to conduct a case like this properly. He'll be
sure to treat impudent pretentions mildly, and timidity with
sternness."--"So he has made another speech?" said young Joseph.--"A
splendid one," cried Fred enthusiastically. "I don't know how he
managed it."--"It doesn't matter," replied Braesig. "But, tell me, what
did the labourers say to the explanation made them?"--"The rabble,"
answered Fred, who had learnt something besides politeness from his
master, "wasn't worth the trouble he took. When I was going about the
farm-yard afterwards I heard different groups of labourers talking of
'equality' and of what they called the 'gee hup and gee wo' style of
farming."--"It was you they meant, of course," said Braesig with a
grin.--"Yes," said Fred honestly, "but only think what happened. Five
of them came to the squire in the afternoon; they were some of those I
had always thought the most sensible of the lot. Old Flegel, the
carpenter, was the spokesman, and he said he had heard that Mr.
Pomuchelskopp had advanced money to all his people, had promised them
more potato-land and various other things, but they would say nothing
more on that head, for they were by no means so badly off as the
Guerlitz villagers, indeed they were quite satisfied with what they had;
but they didn't like the way in which they were treated. They were
often scolded when they had done nothing wrong, were knocked about when
they didn't deserve it, and were hunted from yard to field and back
again without knowing what they were expected to do. They thought Mr.
von Rambow would do well to get rid of me, for I was not up to the
work, and was too young to have the management of so large an estate
and so many labourers. There was one other request they wanted to make,
and that was, that they entreated the squire to get old bailiff
Hawermann back again. Just imagine! What a people!"--"Hm!" said Braesig
with a broad grin. "And what did the squire say to that?"--"Oh, he soon
showed them what he thought of them. He said that if he was satisfied
with me--here he pointed to me, and I made a polite bow--these
gentlemen, the labourers, might be satisfied too. Then an old
white-haired fellow, John Egel, came forward--you know him, he's one of
the oldest of them all--and said, that they were not 'gentlemen,' no
one knew that better than they did, and they had only come to speak to
him, their master, out of the goodness of their hearts, and not to
exchange sharp words. Mr. von Rambow was master, and could do as he
liked."--"What an infernal old rascal," said Braesig still on the broad
grin.--"Ah, but listen. That wasn't nearly all. The thick end of the
wedge came last. Towards evening I noticed that one of the labourers
after the other went to the stable where the riding horses are kept,
and as I knew that Christian Daesel, the groom, doesn't quite like me, I
thought some mischief might perhaps be going on, so I went into the
stable next to that where the men were, and in which there is a hole
that goes through to the other, and then I heard what Christian Daesel
was putting the labourers up to."--"That's to say," interrupted Braesig,
"that you listened."--"Well--yes," answered Fred.--"All right then,"
said Braesig, "go on."--"I must begin by telling you that Christian
Daesel announced that he had made up his mind to marry Sophie Degel with
whom he has been 'keeping company' for several years, and the squire
won't have a married groom on any account, for he thinks a married man
will be more careful over his children than the foals, and I've no
doubt he's right in that. But he won't part with Christian because he
thinks him a good servant and attentive to the horses--however I can't
say that I agree with him there, he isn't as particular as he might be.
Now Christian Daesel went on to say that he would be allowed to marry
Sophie if it were not for the paddocks, he was certain of that, so he
wanted the labourers to demand that the paddocks should be given them
for potato-ground."--"Of course you went straight to Mr. von Rambow and
repeated what you had heard?" asked Braesig.--"Naturally," said Fred,
"it was necessary that he should know, in order that he might be
prepared. At last they came and asked for the paddocks, saying that
their wives and children were every bit as good as the squire's mares
and foals, and yet the latter were better off than the former. Then Mr.
von Rambow sent them away double quick with a flee in their ear. I need
not add that Christian Daesel's wages were at once paid up and that he
was turned off on the spot."--"And what does Mrs. von Rambow say to
it?" asked uncle Braesig.--"H'm," replied Fred, shrugging his shoulders,
"how am I to know? She says nothing. I don't know what's the matter
with her. She always used to notice me--courteously, but perhaps rather
stiffly--and ever since that stupid mistake of Mary Moeller about the
farm-book, she has never even looked at me. Mary went long ago, I'm
happy to say, for she was really growing very foolish, and Mrs. von
Rambow is now her own housekeeper. I must confess that she keeps
everything in splendid order, though she takes no notice of me.
Caroline Kegel says she only works so hard to prevent herself thinking,
that she often writes long letters and then tears them up again, lets
her hands fall in her lap and sits still watching the baby sadly.
Caroline says that it goes to her heart to see her. Mrs. von Rambow
manages the housekeeping very quietly; she never scolds or rushes
about; she only desires that a thing should be done, and she's
obeyed at once. Caroline Kegel wishes she had a friend to speak
to--I'm no longer to be called that--and the squire has no friend
either."--"That's enough for me," cried Mrs. Nuessler, starting to her
feet, "I'll go and see her tomorrow. And as for you, Joseph, I think
you ought to go to that poor misguided young fellow and bring him to
hear reason. In times like these neighbours should stand by one
another."--"Ah, mother, what can I do? And then there's our own scrape
about the geese. But Godfrey and Lina ....."--"True, true," cried Mrs.
Nuessler, "the von Rambows helped to set them up in life, and we ought
never to forget that."--"But," interposed Braesig with a sly roguish
look, "Mr. von Rambow has a friend! What would Mr. Samuel Pomuchelskopp
say if he had heard what you said a minute ago?"--"Pomuchelskopp?"
asked Fred. "We have nothing more to do with him," he added
contemptuously; then bending towards Braesig, he whispered: "He has
demanded his money, principal and interest. I heard it from Zebedee,
Moses' coachman Zebedee. So you see that there's no longer any
friendship between the two. Slus'uhr either comes or writes daily,
but we have also engaged a lawyer to help us, Mr. Rein. Do you know
him?"--"Yes," whispered Braesig, "I know him through the North-pole and
the Faroe islands."--"Isn't he a very clever fellow?"--"Certainly. He
can lead most people by the nose. But," he said aloud, "what is your
master going to do about the labourers?"--"I'll tell you," answered
Fred, "we've both determined to defend ourselves to the death, and so I
had to go to Rahnstaedt and buy these pistols."--"And if the labourers
come back?"--"Then we'll shoot," said Fred.--"Right," said Braesig
taking up one of the pistols and playing with it carelessly, "but, Mrs.
Nuessler," he went on, "you've made it quite wet and perhaps it'll
rust." Then he proceeded to rub it up on the outside with the skirt of
his coat, and while Fred explained the use and management of the other
to Joseph Nuessler, he took it to the window as if to examine it better.
"Where's your tool-box, Joseph?" he asked. Mr. Nuessler pointed to a
cupboard with his foot. Fred heard a great knocking and hammering
going on behind him and then a sharp sound as if something had cracked.
When he turned round to look what it was, Braesig held the pistol
out to him, but without its dog head which he had just succeeded in
twisting off with a pair of pincers. "There!"--"Confound it," cried
Fred, jumping up. "Now," said Braesig, "there's no fear of your
shooting in the people's faces."--"How dared you destroy my pistols.
Sir?"--"Because you're a foolish boy, and children oughtn't to play
with fire-arms."--"You're an old ...."--"'Ass.' I suppose that was what
you were going to say, and perhaps I am an ass for interfering with
you; but, Sir, I am here in your aunt's stead, and I did what I did for
her sake."--"My master told me to buy the pistols and I always do as he
desires me."--"That's right. Here's the one for your master. Let him
shoot with it if he likes. He has shot before now--but you ...." and
suddenly thinking of Hawermann, he continued: "Wretched boy, hav'n't
you done mischief enough already?"--Mrs. Nuessler exclaimed: "Hush,
Braesig. Not a word on _that_ subject. But, Triddelfitz, you ought
to be ashamed of yourself for talking so lightly of taking human
life."--"What?" cried Joseph, springing to his feet, "he wasn't going
to have shot at the people? Was he, mother?" Bolster was also affected
by the excitement, and expressed his horror by giving utterance to one
or two sharp barks, and Fred was so much confused by what he heard,
that, forgetting all his former courtesy, he snatched up his
waterproof, thrust the remaining pistol into his pocket and rushed
away, only turning when he had reached the door to say with great
emphasis that ten horses should never drag him over that threshold
again. "It isn't at all necessary," replied Braesig calmly. But if he
had heard what Fred was muttering as he went along the road towards
Puempelhagen gazing blankly at his broken pistol, he might not have
taken things so quietly. For Fred bestowed so many titles of honour on
him that those of the emperor of Austria were few in comparison.
Fortunately he did not hear, and he thought and cared little that Fred
should have put the Nuessler's house under the ban. That very morning he
had seen how easily even old friendships are dissolved in troublous
times, and he had promised solemnly, that under no circumstances
whatsoever should he lead the Rahnstaedt civic guard to Rexow. His quick
temper often carried him further than he intended, but his good heart
always conquered in the end. He wanted joy and peace to be everywhere,
although his way of trying to bring them about often caused noise and
strife instead.
In the dusk of evening when Joseph and Bolster were sleeping by the
fire-side, uncle Braesig thought there could not be a better time for
him to say a few words about Rudolph and Mina, so he began: "Mrs.
Nuessler, do you remember the saying: Long love, makes old love, and
long ...."--"Have done with your stupid old proverbs, Braesig. They
don't suit either you or me. I know what you're going to say, and I
agree with you that things can't go on much longer as they are, but
what's to become of him and me?"--"Mrs. Nuessler, you mean young
Joseph ...."--"Hush, Braesig. Name no names I beg of you. If it were
only him," pointing to Joseph, "you might do so as much as you liked,
but he," pointing to Bolster, "is sharper than all of us put together,
so take care what you say before him. Just look how he's pricking his
ears."--"H'm!" said Braesig, peering under Joseph's arm chair, "so he
is, but that doesn't matter. Well, Mrs. Nuessler, this business must
come to a happy end."--"Yes, Braesig, that's just what I tell myself
every day. But tell me, what's to become of me, and what's to become of
him?" here she pointed at Joseph once more. "If Mina and Rudolph are to
have the management of everything, what am I to do? and what is he to
do?"--"Why, Mrs. Nuessler, you will have rest and quiet, and can rejoice
in the happy life of your posterity."--"That's all very well, Braesig,
and I know that people can get used to anything, can even get used to
idleness. But look at me. You see how stout I am in spite of my active
life, and you know that if I were to sit still and do nothing, I'd grow
so fat and unwieldy that I'd become a perfect monster."--"No, no, Mrs.
Nuessler," replied uncle Braesig, rising and standing before her, his
heart full of the memory of their youth, "you have always been
beautiful, and you will be beautiful as long as you live," and he bent
over her and seized her hand. "Don't be silly," said Mrs. Nuessler,
drawing away her hand, "just look at the old dog, he understands all
that's going on. But it do'sn't so much matter about me, as about
_him_. What's to become of him? I can always find something to do, but
he--what sort of life will he have when he has no work?"--"He'll smoke
and sleep," answered Braesig. "Ah," she said, "he can do so now. But he
is changed, very much changed lately. I won't speak of the silly affair
of the geese, for I'll be able to talk him out of that, I know,--but he
has grown so contradictious, and opposes everything that's done;
when he has nothing to do I'm sure he'll get into some frightful
scrape."--"_Joseph_?" cried Braesig in amazement. "Yes, but it's no use
going on now. Look!" On turning round, Braesig saw Bolster get up and
rub his tail twice under Joseph's nose, whereupon Mr. Nuessler stretched
himself and asked in a very wakeful voice: "What o'clock is it,
mother?" Then he stretched himself again, and becoming aware of
Braesig's presence, said: "What a clever fellow Mr. von Rambow is to
have made another speech."
Rudolph came in, lights were brought, and Braesig made a grimace at
Rudolph across the table. He did not mean the young man any harm, he
only intended to say: "Hold your tongue and trust in me. Your affair is
progressing favourably." The evening passed very slowly, for each of the
party was busied with his own thoughts, and when they all went to bed,
Braesig was the only one who fell asleep at once. Rudolph was thinking
of Mina, and his marriage; Mrs. Nuessler, of the terribly idle life that
lay before her; and Joseph, of the geese and Mr. von Rambow's speech.
This last thought kept him from sleeping all night, and when Mrs.
Nuessler turned on the other side towards morning in hopes of getting a
little nap, she saw Joseph leaving the room fully dressed with Bolster
at his heels. She could not make it out. The devil might know what he
was about, she did not.