Moses was now a very old man, but he was strong and healthy though he
found it difficult to walk even a short distance, and did not sleep
well at night. He had grown into the habit of sitting up till long
after his old wife Flora was asleep. He used at such times to sit in a
large arm chair with a pillow under his head thinking over old stories.
He would have nothing to do with new things. David generally stretched
himself on the sofa as he used to do, and told him anything he thought
would interest him, and sometimes enjoyed a little nap between whiles.
I must say in David's honour that he was no exception to the rest of
his people, and that he was gentle with and careful of his father in
his old age, indeed he showed an example in that respect that it would
be well if many Christians were to follow. On this particular evening
they were chatting together. "David," said his father, "have I not
often told you that you ought not to have anything to do with
Poemueffelskopp?"--"But, father, have I ever been taken in by him?
Hav'n't I always made money by my transactions with him?"--"You have
strewed ashes on your head, you have eaten dirt."--"Are Louis d'ors
dirt?"--"There's always dirt sticking to Poemueffelskopp's money."--"If
you like father, we can do a good stroke of business, Poemueffelskopp
wants to sell Guerlitz."--"Why?"--"Because he wants to get rid of
it."--"I'll tell you why, David. It's because he doesn't feel safe
amongst his labourers, and fears lest they should burn his barns, or
knock him on the head. I'll tell you even more than that. I shan't do
the business, nor will you do it; but still it will be done, and by
attorney Slus'uhr too, whom you account your friend; but he's too
clever for you, David, and you're too young."--"Father, I ..."--"Hush,
David, I've got something more to say to you. You want to get rich, and
to get rich all at once. Now listen to me; a jar with a narrow neck
half full of gold is before you. You put in your hand and try to bring
it out again full, but you can't do it, if, however, you're content to
take one coin at a time, you get as many as you need in the end."--"Did
I fill my hand too full?"--"Hush, David, I hav'n't done yet. You see
two people, one throws a Louis d'or into a clear brook, while the other
throws a handful of them into the mire. You go into the cold water, and
get wet in picking up the Louis d'or, but when you've got it, you find
it bright and clean; or you go into the mire and pick up the handful of
gold, and all men try to get out of your way because you stink in their
nostrils. The money Poemueffelskopp has thrown you in the way of
business, you have been obliged to pick out of the mire."--"Nay,
father, it doesn't smell a bit worse than other gold."--"If men have
not yet perceived its evil odour, its stink yet rises to heaven; but it
is not true that men do not smell it, all honourable men know it to be
what it is, while to Poemueffelskopp and the attorney it is as the sweet
savour of myrrh and frankincense." Just as David was about to answer
there came a knock at the front door. "What's that?" asked David. The
old man was silent, and the knocking became louder. "Go and open the
door, David."--"What, at this time of night?"--"Yes, David, open the
door. When I was a lad, and used to go about the country with a pack on
my back, I often knocked at the door of some man's house, and he let me
in, and now that I am old I shall soon stand before another door, and
when I knock at it the God of Abraham will say: let him in, he is a
human being. Some human being is now knocking at my door, and shall I
not let him in? Open the door, David." David obeyed, and Hawermann came
in.
"Bless me!" cried the old man. "It's the bailiff!"--"Yes, Moses.
Don't be angry with me, I can't help it, but my business is very
important, and I must speak to you alone."--"David, you had better go
away."--David made a face, but went,--"That doesn't help us much," said
Moses, "for he's listening at the keyhole."--"It doesn't matter, Moses,
I can't tell you here what I want you to know. Can't you come home with
me?"--"I'm an old man now, Hawermann."--"I know that, but the air out
of doors is quite warm, and the moon has risen. You can lean on my arm,
and if you can't walk so far, I will carry you if you like."--"Why,
what's the matter?"--"I can't tell you now, Moses; you must hear with
your own ears, and see with your own eyes. You can do a good work if
you come."--"Hawermann, you are an honest man, and have always been a
friend to me from your youth up, I know that you will act rightly and
justly. Call David."--Hawermann opened the door, and found him standing
behind it.--"Mr. Hawermann, surely you won't take my father out
tonight, he is an old man."--"Bring me my fur-boots, David," said his
father.--"Don't go, father, or I will call my mother."--"Call your
mother if you like, I'm going all the same."--"Why are you going?"--"On
business, business of importance."--"Then I'll go with you."--"No,
David, you're too young. Go and get me my fur-boots."--There was no
help for it, David had to go and fetch the boots and put them on his
father's feet. Hawermann then supported Moses with his arm, and the
latter set off with his friend for Mrs. Behrens' house walking with
great difficulty and keeping his hand in his left coat pocket all the
time that he might hold up his trousers on that side, for he still
continued to do without braces on his left side.
Hawermann did not manage to get old Moses over Mrs. Behrens' threshold
noiselessly as he had hoped, for Moses tripped and nearly fell as he
was going in. Naturally Mrs. Behrens heard the noise as distinctly as
the others did.--"Ah!" she exclaimed, hastening to the door, "there's
Hawermann come back with poor Mina," but when she put out her head
expecting to see Mina's face, a little swollen it is true, she saw
Moses in a flowing dressing gown, and fur-boots, and with his wrinkled
old face and large black eyes turned full on her: "Good evening, Mrs.
Behrens," he said.--Little Mrs. Behrens was so startled that she drew
back, exclaiming: "Preserve us all! Hawermann is trying all sorts of
magic and heathen incantations to-night, and now he has brought an old
Jew into the house at midnight; what can Moses do to cure Mina's
toothache?"--Mrs. Nuessler felt as if she were in her own kitchen at
home frying fish, and had just got a fine large pike in the frying pan,
when it caught her by the thumb and pressed its teeth gradually deeper
and deeper into her flesh, so that she could not move for fear of
losing her whole thumb. What business had Mrs. Nuessler to tell such a
fib, and a fib that might be disproved at any moment.--"Why, Mrs.
Behrens," said Braesig, "it can only have been Moses' double that you
saw, it can't have been himself, for when I went to see him the day
before yesterday he told me that he couldn't walk in the streets any
more."--"Oh," interrupted Louisa, "my father must have something very
important to say to the old man, and my aunt knows all about it,
and has only been trying to put us off with a story about Mina. It
would be very unlike my father to play foolish tricks at this time of
night."--The pike forced its teeth deeper into Mrs. Nuessler's flesh,
but she shut her mouth tight and kept her own counsel a little longer:
"Ah see!" she said. "You're frightfully clever, Louie! Clever children
are a blessing to their parents; but," she could bear it no more, and
pulling her thumb out of the pike's mouth, she went on, "I wish with
all my heart that you were stupider. I'll tell you the truth, Mina
isn't here at all, it's Mrs. von Rambow of Puempelhagen who has
something to arrange with Charles and Moses."--Little Mrs. Behrens was
very angry when she heard this, partly because she had been kept in
ignorance of the truth although it was her own house, and so she was
most assuredly the nearest, and ought to have been told; and partly
because it showed her how horribly and heathenishly her good old friend
and neighbour, Mrs. Nuessler, could lie: "You told us such a
circumstantial lie," she said.--"Yes, Mrs. Behrens," answered
Mrs. Nuessler, trying to look as if she had done nothing wrong, "I
did."--"Mrs. Nuessler," remonstrated her friend, looking as if the
little black cloak of the late parson Behrens had fallen on her
shoulders, "lying is an abominable unchristian sin."--"I know that,"
answered Mrs. Nuessler, "and I never lie for myself. Whenever I tell a
lie it's for the sake of other people. I was so sorry for the poor
lady, and feared lest she should be troubled with questions. As
everyone thought it was Mina, I just said 'yes' and then invented a
little story." And now it seemed as if an invisible hand had bound the
Geneva bands worn by her late husband round the little lady's neck; she
said gravely: "My love, I fear that you're in a very bad way, for
you're deceiving yourself at this very moment, you look upon what is
evil as if it were good, you tell a lie ...."--"Begging your pardon,
Mrs. Behrens," interrupted Braesig, taking his stand by the side of his
old sweetheart, "for stopping you in the middle of your sermon; allow
me to say that I quite agree with Mrs. Nuessler. Look you, last week the
town-clerk's wife called me, and asked me very sweetly: 'Pray tell me,
Mr. Braesig, is it true that Mrs. Behrens once gave some one a randy-voo
in a ditch ....'"--"Braesig!" cried Mrs. Behrens, resuming her natural
manner.--"Don't be afraid," said uncle Braesig glancing at Louisa, "I
know the prejudice that exists against such things.--'No, Ma'am,' I
said, 'it's a confounded lie.' So you see, Mrs. Behrens, that I told a
lie for your sake, and if I'm condemned to roast in hell for it, I hope
that you'll take compassion on me in heaven, and bring me a little
water to refresh me."--Mrs. Behrens was about to answer, when Hawermann
looked in to say: "Will you come and speak to me for a moment,
Braesig?"--"Hawermann ...." began Mrs. Behrens.--"I shall return very
soon, Mrs. Behrens."--Braesig went away.
The conversation in the other parlour had been as eager as the one I
have described, though quite different from it in every respect. When
Hawermann came in with Moses, Mrs. von Rambow rose from her seat on the
sofa with a pain at her heart, and Moses started back.--"Mrs. von
Rambow," said Hawermann, and then turning to the lady, he added: "This
is my old friend Moses, he is very tired after his walk. You will
excuse us, will you not, Madam?" and so saying he led the old man up to
the sofa and making him lie down, arranged the pillows under his head.
As soon as his friend had recovered a little from his fatigue,
Hawermann asked: "Do you know Mrs. von Rambow, Moses?"--"I've seen her
driving past my house, and I've seen her walking on the road near
Puempelhagen; I touched my hat to her then and she returned the old
Jew's greeting courteously."--"Moses, you know that Mr. von Rambow is
in debt, deeply in debt."--"I know."--"You have demanded your money
from him, principal and interest."--"I know."--"Moses, you must
withdraw your demand; your money is safe."--"What do you call safe?
Didn't I tell you my opinion on that head in spring. Just now land
isn't good security, it's only on the man one can rely, and Mr. von
Rambow is not a man whose security is good. He's a bad farmer, he's a
fool about horses, he's a spend ....."--"Hush, remember that his wife
is here."--"I will remember."--Frida was in an agony of silent misery.
Then was not another word spoken for a few minutes, then Hawermann
began again: "Supposing things were differently managed, and the estate
were let on a lease of ...."--"Whoever would think of taking a lease of
it in such bad times?" interrupted Moses.--"Or supposing that Mr. von
Rambow decided on engaging a good, bailiff, and on leaving him alone to
do his work in his own way ...."--"Hawermann," Moses once more
interrupted, "you're an old man, and you're a wise man; you know the
world and you know Mr. von Rambow, now let me ask you, did you ever see
a master who could say, 'I won't be master any more, but will let
another man be master'?"--Hawermann did not know how to meet this
question, and looked enquiringly at Mrs. von Rambow, who cast down her
eyes, and said: "I am afraid that Mr. Moses is right, I am afraid that
my husband wouldn't do that."--Moses looked at her with a smile of
commendation, and muttered: "She's a clever woman, and an honest
woman."--Hawermann was in great perplexity, he sat thinking silently
for some time; at last he said: "Well, Moses, I want to know whether
you will give up your intention of foreclosing the mortgage, if Mrs.
von Rambow, or I, or the pressure of circumstances should induce the
squire to agree to this proposal, and to sign a legal document to the
effect that he will give up farming himself, and will engage a good
bailiff to manage the estate for him?"--"If he does that, I'll let
him have the money for another year; or even two years, if you
like."--"Well, you promise to leave your money as it is; but there are
other debts that must be paid. There's Pomuchelskopp's L1200."--"I
know," muttered Moses.--"Then there are the shopkeepers' and artisans'
bills that have been running on for the last year, and which will come
to at least L900."--"I know," said Moses.--"Then there's a debt of
nearly two thousand pounds that must be paid in Schwerin."--"Why!"
exclaimed Moses starting, "I know nothing of that debt."--"In
addition to what I have told you," continued Hawermann without
allowing himself to be turned from the main point, "we must have
three or four hundred pounds to cover the outlay required to begin
farming properly."--"That's enough, it's a bad business, a very bad
business," said Moses, making a movement as though to get up from the
sofa.--"Stop, Moses, I hav'n't done yet."--"Let me be, let me be! I'm
an old man, and can't undertake such an affair as this," and he sat up
on the sofa and prepared to go away.--"Listen to me, Moses. You're not
expected to give the money which will come to L4650, other people, safe
people are going to do that, and you are only required to raise it for
them by the midsummer term."--"God of Abraham! And I am to raise four
thousand six hundred and fifty pounds in a fortnight! _Four thousand
six hundred and fifty pounds!_ and that for fools who choose to throw
away their money on a bad bit of business like this!"--"Well, Moses, we
won't speak of that if you please. Just write down the names and sums
of money as I dictate. You know Mrs. Behrens? Write down Mrs. Behrens'
name for L750."--"Yes, I know her, she's a good woman and helps the
poor; but why am I to write down her name?"--"Do as I have asked
you."--Moses took a pocket-book out of the pocket of his dressing gown,
wet the end of his pencil in his mouth and wrote: "There now," he said,
"I've put her down for L750."--"You know Braesig?"--"Who doesn't know,
Braesig? He's a good man, and a reliable man. He often came to see me
when I was ill. He tried to make me a democrat, and to persuade me to
make speeches at the Reform-club, but still he's a good man."--"Put him
down for L900. You also know my brother-in-law, farmer Nuessler?"--"Have
I not always bought his wool? He's a quiet man, and a good man. He
smokes a great deal; but he isn't master, his wife is master."--"Very
well, put my sister down for L1950."--"No, I won't do that. She's a
woman, and a prudent woman, did she not stand out for two pence a stone
more than I offered for the wool."--"You can write her name; my sister
will tell you this very evening that it's all right. Now, then put me
down for L1050, and that brings up the sum to L4650."--"Good God!"
cried Moses. "He's going to give his hard earned money, the money he
had saved for his old age, and for his only child. And to whom is he
going to give it? To a young man who attacked him with a gun, who stole
his honest name and who treated him like a dog."--"You've got nothing
to do with that, Moses; it's my affair. We ...."--Mrs. von Rambow had
hitherto remained silent, feeling the full bitterness of her misery,
but now she could bear it no longer; she sprang to her feet, ran up to
Hawermann and laying her hands on his shoulders, said: "No, no! It
cannot be! These kind good people and you shall not be drawn into our
misfortunes. It is our own fault and so we must bear our fate. I will
bear it, and, oh, Alick would a thousand times rather bear it with all
its misery and shame than ... but--but," here she wailed out in spite
of herself, "those poor sisters of his."--Hawermann put his arm gently
round her, led her back to her chair, and whispered: "Try to compose
yourself. You promised to leave the affair in my hands, and I will
conduct it to the end, the happy end."--The tears streamed from Frida's
eyes.--"Good God!" thought Moses, laying his pencil within the
pocket-book, "she's beginning to be generous now. This isn't business.
This isn't business. But it's honest at any rate, and it's enough to
bring tears into the eyes of an old man like me," at the same time
wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his dressing gown. "Now, let me see
how it stands with the Jew."
Meanwhile Hawermann had left the room to fetch Braesig, and after
telling him in the passage what had happened, came back into the room
with him.--When Braesig came in he looked quite scared and Hawermann
could not help feeling impatient with him. He went straight to Moses
and said: "Moses, I am ready to sign anything Charles Hawermann wants
me to sign, whether it is that I'm to give the money down, or only
to put my name to a bill; but I can't pay up till S. Anthony's
day."--"Good," answered Moses, "you're a safe man and I'll get you the
money."--Braesig then went to Mrs. von Rambow, who was leaning her elbow
on the table, and covering her eyes with her hand as though to shield
them from the light. He made her a low bow and asked her how she was,
and when she had murmured some almost inaudible answer, he asked: "And
how is young Mr. von Rambow?"--Frida shivered, and Hawermann, who had
intended to call in the others one by one, saw that it was time to
interrupt his friend, lest Braesig should ignorantly make the poor lady
yet more wretched than she was already. "Zachariah," he said, "will you
be so kind as to ask Mrs. Behrens and my sister to come here. Louisa
may come with them."--"All right, Charles," he replied. Soon afterwards
he returned with the three women.--Mrs. Behrens rushed up to Mrs. von
Rambow, pressed her in her arms and then burst into tears, and Louisa
stood beside her full of deep but silent sympathy.--"God of Abraham!"
muttered Moses, "what a night it is! They say that they want to do
business, and yet there they are weeping over each other, pressing each
other's hands, embracing and showing themselves generous and loving to
each other, while they leave an old man like me to sit here till
morning. Miss Hawermann," he said aloud, "when you're quite done
showing your kind feeling over there, will you be so good as to bring
me a little wine, for I am an old man."--Louisa immediately brought a
bottle of wine and a glass, and Braesig said: "Bring me another glass,
Louisa." He no doubt considered that it was an excellent opportunity to
get up a little clinking of glasses with Moses, for seating himself
opposite the old Jew, he began: "Your good health, Moses."--But he
failed in his attempt to induce Moses to join him, for the Jew did not
take the hint, and when Hawermann brought up his sister to where they
were sitting, Moses wetted his pencil and wrote. After Mrs. Nuessler,
Mrs. Behrens came, and Moses wrote down what she told him; Louisa
meanwhile was talking to Mrs. von Rambow somewhat apart from the
others. When he had finished writing, Moses stood up and said: "I have
something to say to you. The four thousand six hundred and fifty pounds
wanted are covered by the promises given me to-night; but this isn't
business, generosity has run away with you all. Now you know the truth.
I am a Jew, and it has also run away with me. I will get the money for
you. But I am an old man, and a prudent man. If Mr. von Rambow will not
place his affairs in the hands of a good bailiff, and make a legal
arrangement that they should be so managed, the contract is broken, and
I refuse to provide the money, for it will mean ruin. When they bury me
under the fir-trees in the cemetery where I have bought a resting
place, they shall never have just cause to say of me: He had a tomb
built for himself, of oak wood too. Shortly before his death he brought
several honest people to misery, merely that he might not lose any
business. Mrs. Nuessler, Mrs. Behrens, Hawermann and Mr. Braesig are
ruined by him. I have been a business man from my youth up; I began
with a pack on my back; then I became a wool stapler, and lastly a
money lender. I shall die as I have lived a business man, but a prudent
one. Come and help me home, Hawermann. Good night, Mrs. Nuessler,
remember me to Mr. Joseph, and ask him to come and see me sometimes.
Good night, Mr. bailiff Braesig, come and see me too, but don't preach
to me about the Reform-club, for I am an old man. Good night, Miss
Hawermann, I hope that when you next pass my house, you'll nod to me as
kindly as you did last time. Good night, Mrs. Behrens, when you go to
bed, you can say to yourself, I've had a number of honourable people
under my roof to-day, and even the old Jew was an honourable man." Then
going to Frida, he said: "Good night, Madam, you have shed tears
to-night because your heart was sore; but never fear, all will yet be
well; you have gained a new friend in an old Jew; but the old Jew has
wept for your sorrow and he will never forget that, for his tears do
not flow easily now." He turned away, said "Good night" once more, but
without looking round, and Hawermann led him out, while Louisa lighted
them to the house door. Within the best parlour silence prevailed, each
was busy with his or her own thoughts. The first to recover herself was
Mrs. Nuessler, who called Christian, who was sound asleep in the front
hall, and desired him to get the carriage ready. Christian was much
more active than usual on this occasion, so that when Hawermann
returned from seeing Moses home, he found Mrs. von Rambow and his
sister already seated in the carriage. He had only time to say one or
two kind hopeful words to Mrs. von Rambow, before Mrs. Nuessler said:
"Good night, Charles, she wants to get home to her little child. To
Puempelhagen, Christian," and then they drove away.
Hawermann remained standing out in the street, lost in thought, and
following the receding carriage with his eyes. Just as he was turning
to go into the house again another carriage drawn by two horses came
slowly down the street, distinctly visible in the bright moonlight. The
old man was now standing in the door-way, his whole figure brought out
clearly by the background of light from the lamp his daughter had put
in the hall to enable him to see his way upstairs. He wanted to see who
was driving through their quiet street at such a late, or rather at
such an early hour in the morning; the carriage came nearer, and at
last stopped. "Take the reins," cried a voice which seemed strangely
familiar to him, and a man who was sitting on the front seat, threw
the reins to the groom behind him, and then sprang out into the
street. "Hawermann, Hawermann! Don't you know me?"--"Frank! Mr. von
Rambow!"--"What's the matter?" asked Frank. "Why are you up so late?"
pushing him a little away from him, "nothing wrong?"--"No--thank
God!--nothing; I'll tell you all about it immediately." Then the young
man threw his arms round Hawermann, pressed him to his heart, and
kissed him. They were not unhappy, on the contrary, their joy was
great, and yet in the sitting-room near them a girl might have been
seen with pale cheeks and large distended eyes staring at the door.
When she got up the floor seemed to rise to meet her, and she pressed
her hands upon her heart to still its wild beating when she heard the
voice she loved so well. She did not know it, could not see it at that
moment, the shock of surprise had come so suddenly; but the modest
flowers she had planted in the garden of her soul, and the shady bower
from which she had so often gazed at the evening star of memory and
where she had hidden away her inmost thoughts, were now lighted up by
the sun of joy, the rays of which were so brilliant that she was fain
to turn away her eyes; but she could not, and she saw new and wonderful
flowers appearing whose existence she had never dreamt of. She saw
rising from a bed of violets the loveliest red roses such as brides
wear, and the whole air was full of the songs of nightingales, showing
that spring had come, the spring of love. As Frank came in, her hands
sank down by her side, and when he clasped her in his arms she no
longer felt the ground tremble as it had seemed to do before. The storm
had passed away and she was happy. They talked a great deal to each
other: "Frank!"--"Louisa!" but none could understand their speech, and
stood round them comprehending nothing, for it was long since they had
heard such language. At last uncle Braesig took compassion on the young
people who were soaring away over the earth and the clouds, and brought
them back to every day life with a little shock: "Mrs. Behrens," he
said, "when I had three sweethearts at once, I ...."--"Fie, for shame,
Braesig!" exclaimed Mrs. Behrens in the midst of her tears. "You said
the same to me, Mrs. Behrens, that time that I told you I had written
to young Mr. von Rambow in Paris, through Dr. Uertling, but I wasn't
ashamed of myself then, and I won't be ashamed of myself now, indeed I
have never been ashamed of myself all my life. You see, Mrs. Behrens,"
and he placed himself in front of the old lady with his feet even more
in the first position than usual, and blew his nose to hide that he at
the same time wiped his eyes. "You see, Mrs. Behrens, that in the last
few years I have had many a randyvoo. The first of them was held in a
meadow ditch ...."--"Braesig!" cried Mrs. Behrens. "Never fear, Mrs.
Behrens, I won't tell, and I'll even go so far as to tell a lie for
your sake if I find it necessary. The second time was in a cherry tree
with Godfrey and Lina; the third, Rudolph and Mina, again in a cherry
tree; but you mustn't take it ill of me if I am perhaps a little too
proud of having brought about a randyvoo between Paris and Rahnstaedt,
for in that also I have succeeded."--"Yes," said Frank, suddenly
falling to the earth from the clouds at that precise moment, "you have,
and I thank you for it with all my heart. Your letter was most
delightful to me, and I have it here, I always carry it about with
me."--"Hm!" said uncle Braesig, "he carries it about with him, does he!
I'm very much obliged! But now tell me frankly, and honestly: did you
admire the letter so much that you keep it by you, because of the style
in which it is written--for you know Charles, you can't deny that my
style was thought better than yours, when parson Behrens used to teach
us long ago--or did you keep it because the paper had belonged to
Louisa?"--"For both reasons," answered Frank, with a merry laugh, "and
also because of the good news contained in your letter.--Yes," he
continued, going to Hawermann and throwing his arm round him, "now that
all your troubles, your self-made troubles are over, there's no reason
why this separation shouldn't end." Then going to Louisa he gave her a
kiss, and this kiss was a very peculiar one, for it might have been
divided by twelve and yet it was only one kiss in reality. "Bless
me!" cried Mrs. Behrens, "Look, it's actually beginning to get
light."--"Yes," answered Braesig, "and here you are going about still.
Remember that you're an old woman now, and go to bed."--"Braesig is
right," said Hawermann, "and you should go too, Louie."--"Come away,
dear child," said Mrs. Behrens, putting her arm round Louisa's waist,
"tomorrow will be another day, and a happy day too," and so saying she
kissed the girl fondly. "Yes," she continued, "a happy life is
beginning for you, and for me through you." They went away. "And
now Mr. von Rambow," said Hawermann. "Why not Frank?" interrupted the
young man. "Well then, Frank, my dear son, you may sleep in my bed
in the same room as Braesig, I ...."--"I can't sleep," interrupted
Frank.--"Charles," said Braesig, "I...."--"I can't sleep," interrupted
Frank.--"Charles," said Braesig, "I don't feel at all sleepy; my usual
bed time, and power of lying still are both gone." He opened the window
and looked out,--"Charles," he said, "it seems to me as if this was
just the right sort of weather for the fish to bite. I must go out, for
I don't feel comfortable in the house, so I'll take my rod, and see
what I can get. I know a capital place to go to, I mean lake Lauban in
the pine wood at Rexow, where I'm sure to catch a good dish of tench.
Good morning, young Mr. von Rambow, good morning, Charles, have a good
talk about everything with your future son-in-law." He then went away.
"Pray tell me, dear father," asked Frank, "why you're up and stirring
at such an unusual hour? I left Paris as soon as I got Braesig's letter,
and have travelled night and day as far as my own home, where I arrived
the day before yesterday. I found a good deal to attend to there, for
my bailiff is going away to be married, and I couldn't get away again
to come on here till yesterday morning. I had ordered horses to be in
readiness for me at the various posting houses, and when I got to
Rahnstaedt--I may as well confess"--and he laughed rather consciously.
"I couldn't help wishing to see the house where Louisa lived, and I
found you all up."--"Ah," sighed Hawermann, "the cause of our being up
was a sad one. It was about the affairs of Mr. von Rambow of
Puempelhagen, and his wife came herself to see me and tell me what was
going on. She has had a terrible time of anxiety and sorrow; but no one
could have saved her from that, and now everything is in process of
being arranged. I wish to God that you--had arrived a little earlier,
and then the business would have been done at once." Hawermann then
proceeded to relate all that had happened with such feeling and
sympathy, and such a visible desire that all should be put right, that
Frank also began to wish to help, and the best of it was that he could
do it. He had had the good fortune to have had wise guardians and
honest bailiffs who understood their work, so that his wealth had
increased in their hands, and afterwards in his own, for he had not
made a ladder of his inheritance by means of which to descend into the
abyss of dissipation and foolish extravagance; and on the other hand
his good sense and warm heart had saved him from growing into a hard
man. He could therefore act as generously as he wished.
Frank and Hawermann talked long and earnestly together, for both
desired to help Alick, and after careful consideration they agreed that
Frank should go and see Moses that very day. In spite of their frank
open dealing with each other, each of them had a secret from the other.
Hawermann did not say a word to the young man of Alick's debt to his
sisters, for that was a secret Mrs. von Rambow had confided to him with
a breaking heart; he felt that he had no right to tell such a thing as
that, it was the property of another and did not belong to him. Frank
had his secret also, but it must have been a pleasant one, his face
looked so happy, and there was such thorough enjoyment in the way in
which he first stretched out one leg on the sofa, and then drew the
other after it. When Hawermann went on to tell him other things, he
nodded smilingly, and went on nodding until he at last nodded himself
to sleep. Youth and nature were no longer to be debarred from their
rights. When he was asleep old Hawermann rose softly and gazed into his
face on which a smile still lingered, reminding one of the way in which
the last rays of the setting sun are sometimes to be seen flickering on
the clear, calm, transparent waters of some inland lake. He spread a
warm rug over the sleeper and then went out to the arbour in Mrs.
Behrens back garden, the arbour he himself had made in the days of his
sorrow, and seating himself looked up at the window of the room in
which his daughter slept. But was she asleep? Who can sleep when the
sun of joy is shining in his heart; who can sleep when every sound has
become a song of love and happiness. The garden gate clicked softly,
and a lovely girl came in dressed in a white morning gown. She raised
her face to the sky and watched the rising sun, with her hands clasped,
as though she did not fear to blind herself with its dazzling rays, and
as she gazed tears ran down her rosy cheeks. Right, Louisa! The sun is
God's sun, and happiness is also God's; when they shine in our eyes and
threaten to blind us with their beauty tears are good, for they enable
us to bear their brightness. She stooped down over a rose, and drank in
its fragrance, but without plucking it. Right Louisa! Roses are earthly
flowers, and joys are also earthly; they alike bloom for a time, so
leave them to live out their life in peace. If you wish to enjoy them
before their time, you will find a withered flower in your bosom, and a
withered joy in your heart. She walked on slowly, and when she came to
the arbour, she saw her father sitting there, and throwing herself on
his breast, she cried: "Father, father!" Right Louisa! You are in your
proper place, for God's sun is shining in your father's heart, and the
roses of earth are blooming there.