Young Joseph walked up and down the yard followed by Bolster. He often
stood still during his walk and rubbed his forehead as if he did not
know what to do next. Whenever he did so, Bolster also stood still,
wagged his tail, and then immediately lost himself in sad consideration
of the divided sovereignty that lay before him, Rudolph came out: "Why
father," he said, "up already!"--"Yes, Rudolph, and it's all because of
the geese;" he was going to have said something more, but the words did
not come to him, and Rudolph exclaimed: "Don't bother your head about
that, father, it's an old story now; but I'm very glad you're up, for
you can give the overseer his orders, and I'll go and see how the
field's getting on that I was at yesterday on the Puempelhagen march. We
must do the same as yesterday, cart manure to the potato land."--"Yes,
Rudolph but ...."-"That's all you've to do, father; now I must be off,"
and he hastened away. Joseph resumed his walk up and down the yard till
at last Kalsow, the overseer came to him: "Kalsow," said Joseph, "send
all the workpeople here to me," and having given this order he went
into the house accompanied by Bolster. The labourers, labourer's wives,
and work-people crowded into the court and asked each other: "What are
we to do?"--"I don't know," answered Kalsow, the overseer. "Ah then,
just go and ask him, will you?"--Kalsow went into the parlour where he
found young Joseph pacing up and down, followed by Bolster, for as
Joseph had not taken off his cap. Bolster thought his company was
required. "The villagers are all here, sir," said Kalsow.--"Good,"
replied young Joseph. "What are we to do now?" asked Kalsow.--"Wait,"
said Joseph.--Kalsow then went out and told the people, so they waited.
In a short time he returned to his master: "They're waiting, sir," he
said.--"Good," answered Joseph, "tell them to wait a little longer, for
I'm going to make them a speech." Kalsow went out again and desired the
people to wait, adding that Mr. Nuessler was going to make them a
speech. They waited for a long time, but nothing came of it, and at
last Christian the coachman, said: "I know him Kalsow. Go back and wake
him up." So Kalsow went in again and asked: "Well, sir, how about the
speech?"--"Confound you!" stormed Joseph, "do you think that my
thoughts are growing on my back ready to be plucked when I want them."
The overseer retired and said to the people: "It was of no use, it only
made the master angry, so we must wait."--"Goodness gracious me!" cried
Mrs. Nuessler, when she had finished tidying up the larder, "what's the
meaning of this? Why are the people all standing in front of the house
doing nothing?" and opening the window, she called out: "What are you
doing there?"--"We're only waiting, mistress."--"What are you waiting
for?"--"We don't know mistress, but the master's going to make us a
speech."--"_Who?_" asked Mrs. Nuessler. "The master," said Kalsow. "What
did you say he was going to make?"--"A speech," said Kalsow.--"A nice
state of affairs this!" muttered Mrs. Nuessler as she slammed down the
window. Then hastening to her husband, she seized him by the arm, and
shook him as if she wanted to bring him back to his senses: "What are
you going to do? You're going to make a speech? What sort of a
speech are you going to make? Is it to be about me? or about Rudolph
and Mina?"--"Mother," said Joseph firmly, "it's to be about the
geese."--"May God have mercy upon you," said Mrs. Nuessler angrily, "if
you ever dare to speak to me about the geese again."--"What?" cried
Joseph, rising in open rebellion against his wife for the first time.
"Mayn't I make a speech? Everyone does it; Mr. von Rambow does it;
Braesig speaks in the Reform-club, and you don't think me good enough to
follow their example." Then striking the table with his fist: "I am
_master_ here, woman, and will speak about my own geese if I choose!"
Mrs. Nuessler turned very pale, and stared at Joseph silently. After
waiting a minute, she pressed one hand over her heart, and groped for
the door handle, which having found she turned slowly, and then left
the room backwards, her eyes still fixed on Joseph--in like manner as a
lion tamer treats a wild beast which has defied his authority. As soon
as she was safely out in the passage, she threw herself down on a bench
and began to cry. Ah yes, the year 1848 was a terrible time. Lawful
government was no longer held of any account, and open rebellion was
the order of the day.
Braesig came down stairs whistling merrily, but stopped short when he
caught sight of his old sweetheart weeping bitterly. "As sure as your
nose is in the middle of your face, tell me what's the matter? What
makes you cry at _this_ time of day, Mrs. Nuessler? it's only half past
six." So saying he threw himself on the bench beside her, and tried to
pull the apron away from her face, but she signed to him to let her
alone. "Mrs. Nuessler," he exclaimed, "for God's sake tell me what has
happened." After a long time she managed to ejaculate: "Joseph."--"Good
God!" cried Braesig. "He was quite well yesterday. Is he dead?"--"Dead?
not he!" she exclaimed, throwing down her apron and showing her red
eyes, "but he has gone quite mad!"--"God have mercy upon me!" cried
Braesig, springing to his feet, "what's he about?"--"He's going to
make a speech."--"What? Young Joseph? A speech? that's a very bad
sign!"--"Oh me, me!" groaned Mrs. Nuessler. "The labourers are all
waiting for him to begin, and he almost turned me out of the room,
indeed I hardly know how I got out."--"Well, I never thought of such a
thing in my wildest conjecturation!" exclaimed Braesig. "But keep your
mind easy, Mrs. Nuessler, I'm not afraid, I'll venture into the
parlour." And he immediately went away.
Joseph was walking up and down the room, and rubbing his forehead every
now and then. Braesig seated himself on a chair near the door and
followed his every movement with his eyes, but did not say a word, and
Bolster sat at the opposite side of the room silently watching his
master. It was an anxious moment, at least to Joseph and Braesig;
Bolster took the state of affairs pretty quietly upon the whole. At
last Braesig asked very gently: "How are you, Joseph?"--"I don't know,"
answered Joseph, "I have rather a buzzing in my head, and my thoughts
are jumping about as if some one had poured a bushel of wild oats into
my brain."--"I believe you, Joseph, I believe you," said Braesig, still
watching him as he went up and down the room. At length Joseph suddenly
stopped and exclaimed indignantly: "Who the devil can make up a speech
when you two are staring like that?"--"Oh you're going to make a
speech, are you? What's it to be about?"--"Am I worse than any other
man Braesig? Are my labourers worse than other people's labourers? In
these bad times they must be pleased like the workmen on other estates,
but I'm not good at it, it's too hard a task for me; you are
quicker-witted than I, so please make the speech for me."--"Why not?"
said Braesig, "if it will really be a relief to you. But now don't
disturb me." And Braesig in his turn began to pace the room while Joseph
sat down and watched him. Suddenly the bailiff opened the window and
shouted: "Come here, all of you!" and the labourers did as they were
desired. "Fellow citizens!" began Braesig; but--bang--he shut the
window, exclaiming: "Hang it! That won't do at all, these people are
labourers, so one can't call them 'fellow-citizens.' Now you see Joseph
what a difficult thing it is to make a speech, and yet you wanted to
meddle with a thing that even I cannot manage."--"Ah, Braesig,
but ...."--"Hold your tongue, Joseph, I know what you're going to say."
He then went to the window, opened it, and said: "You can all go back
to your work now, there won't be any speech to day."--"All right," said
Kalsow, "but the master ...."--"Has thought better of it," interrupted
Braesig, "he thinks that spring is rather too early in the year for such
a thing, but he hopes to make you a stunning good speech in autumn
after the harvest is secured."--"Very well," answered Kalsow, "perhaps
that'll be the best time for it. Come away then," and so he and the
labourers all went back to their work.
Now that the coast was clear, Braesig turned to Joseph, addressed him
with all the dignity he could command, and used all the influence he
had gained over him in the course of many years: "How? You were said to
be mad! You are no more mad than either Bolster or I; you are only
_stupid_. What ever induced your dear--I mean to say--late--I mean to
say--confounded parents to bring you into the world? Was it that you
might make speeches and distress your good wife who has tended you for
five and twenty years as anxiously and carefully as if you had been a
little new born child? Come away at once, and beg her pardon, and
promise that you'll never do it again." Joseph was quite willing to do
as he was bid, but he was saved going out in search of his wife by Mrs.
Nuessler coming into the parlour: "Josy, Josy," she said, "how very
miserable you have made me!"--"Ah mother ...."--"Josy you'll bring me
with sorrow to the grave!"--"And that with confoundedly imposing
language," interposed Braesig.--"Mother, I won't ...."--"Ah Joseph, I
don't believe you'll ever give it up now that you've once begun." But
Joseph assured her that he had had enough of it. "God grant that it
maybe so," said Mrs. Nuessler, "and that you may see that I also can
give way, Rudolph may marry to-morrow if you like."--"Ah," said Braesig,
"that's good, there's peace in the house again, and you'd better seal
it with a kiss--now another, Joseph, that the left side of your mouth
mayn't have short measure."
As soon as that was settled, uncle Braesig made the best of his way to
Guerlitz to visit his little god-child, and tell her of her happy
prospects. He went by the short cut, by the very foot-path in which
Muchel had put up the fence alleging that it belonged to him, but
Godfrey had been egged on by Braesig to go to law about it, and having
won his suit, the fence was now cleared away and the road was once more
open to the public.
When Braesig was going along this path who should meet him but the
squire of Guerlitz, who on seeing him put on a friendly smile, and said,
as soon as he got near enough to speak: "Good morning my dear ...." He
could not finish his sentence, for Braesig thus accosted him, without
vouchsafing to look at him: "A certain person, who shall be nameless,
threatened to pull off my boots here, and to leave me to hop home with
bare feet like a crow," having said this he walked on without once
looking back.
After he had told Mina what had brought him to Guerlitz and had rejoiced
at the sight of her happiness, Lina asked him to remain with them,
though as it was Saturday, Godfrey must write his sermon instead of
enjoying his society. He answered: "No, no, Mrs. Lina, everyone has his
work to do in the world, and if parson Godfrey has to write a sermon,
why shouldn't I have one to preach also? I must go to the Reform-club
to-night." And having said good-bye, he returned to Rahnstaedt.