THE FIRST DRIVE.
The next morning was the longed-for day. The sun shone joyfully upon
the earth, and Lenz's heart grew light again. He sent his apprentice
early to Annele to tell her she must be ready for him in an hour. At
the end of that time he was dressed in his Sunday clothes, and on his
way to the Lion. Annele was not ready. She yielded to his prayers and
entreaties so far as to give him her hand through the chamber door, but
would not let him see her. She handed him out some red ribbons and
cockades, which he was to give to the boy to tie in the whip and about
in the harness. After keeping him waiting a long, long time, she
appeared, beautifully dressed.
"Is the wagon harnessed?" was her first question.
"No."
"Why did you not see to it? Tell Gregory to put on his postilion's
uniform, and take his horn."
"O no! what is the use of that?"
"We have a perfect right to show ourselves before the whole world,
without anybody's leave or license. I mean people shall look out when
we drive by."
At last they took their places. As they passed the doctor's house,
Annele called out: "Blow your horn now, Gregory; blow loud! The
doctor's daughters shall look out, and see how we drive together. Look!
there is not a soul to be seen. They have shut the window in the
corner room. There they are, I know, dying of spite; they will have to
tell about us, for I can hear the old mayoress asking, What is that
horn-blowing? I should like to be behind the door, and hear it all."
"Annele, you put on strange airs to-day."
"And why not? you please me specially to-day. People are right in
praising your eyes. How true and clear they are! I did not know they
were so beautiful. You are really a handsome fellow!"
Lenz looked yet handsomer from the glow of pleasure which overspread
his face. "I will have some new clothes made in the latest
fashion,--shall I not?"
"No, stay as you are. You look much more comfortable and respectable
so."
"Not only look so, but am so."
"Are so, to be sure. Don't treat every word as if it were a tooth in a
clock-wheel."
"You are quite right."
They drove through the neighboring village.
"Blow, Gregory; blow loud!" commanded Annele. "See, there is where my
cousin Ernestine lives. She was our maid a long while, and afterwards
married a tailor, who now keeps shop here. She cannot bear me, nor I
her. Her green face will turn blue with rage when she sees us drive by
without stopping. There she comes to the window. Yes, stare your little
pig's eyes out of your head, and open your mouth till you show your
bunchy gums! It is I, Annele, and this is my Lenz. Do you see him? How
is your appetite now? It is dinner-time. I wish you joy of your last
year's herring."
She snapped her tongue in triumph as they went by.
"Do you take pleasure in that, Annele?" asked Lenz.
"Why not? It is right that we should show evil to the evil and good to
the good."
"I don't think I could."
"Then be thankful you have me. I will make them all crawl into a
mouse-hole before us. They shall be grateful for every look we bestow
on them."
As they approached the town, Annele gave her bridegroom directions as
to his behavior. "If the engineer is here, my brother-in-law's brother,
you must be on your dignity with him. He will want to have some fling
at you, because he is frightfully cross at my not accepting him. But I
don't like him. And if my sister begins her complaints, listen to her
tranquilly. It is not worth while trying to comfort her, and does no
good either. She lives in gold, and has nothing to do but cry. The
truth is, she is not very strong. The rest of us are perfectly healthy,
as you can see by me."
The lovers were not successful at their sister's. She was ill in bed,
and neither her husband nor his brother was at home. They had both gone
down the Rhine on a large raft. "Won't you stay with your sister? I
have business to attend to in the town."
"Can't I go with you?"
"No; it is about something for you."
"Then I had certainly better go too. You men don't know how to choose."
"No, I cannot have you," insisted Lenz. He took from under the seat of
the wagon a package of considerable size, and set off with it to the
town. Babette's house was a little way out of the town, near a great
lumber-yard by the brook. Unobserved by Annele, Lenz brought back the
same package somewhat enlarged, and restored it to its place under the
seat.
"What have you bought me?" asked Annele.
"I will give it to you when we get home."
Annele thought it hard she could not show her beautiful ornaments to
her sister, but had already learned there were some things in which
Lenz would have his own way in spite of entreaties and remonstrances.
They dined at the hotel. The landlord's son, Annele said, an excellent
man, who now kept a great hotel at Baden-Baden, had also been one of
her suitors; but she had refused him.
"Why need you have told me?" said Lenz. "I am almost jealous of the
past, never of the future, that I promise. I know your truth, Annele,
but it pains me to think that others have so much as raised their eyes
to you. Let bygones be bygones. We begin our life anew."
Annele's face beamed with unwonted softness as he spoke. A portion of
his own purity and candor fell upon her, and made her gentle and
loving. She knew not how better to express this new sentiment in her
than by saying: "Lenz, you need not have bought me any bridal present.
You have no need to do as others do. I am sure of you. There is
something better than all the gold chains in the world."
The tears stood in her eyes as she spoke, and Lenz was happier than
ever.
The church clock was striking five when they took their places in the
wagon and set out for home.
"My dear father made that clock," said Lenz, "and Faller helped him. By
the way, that luckily reminds me. Faller says you took offence at some
awkward speech of his; he will not tell me what it was. You must
forgive him. He is a plain-spoken soldier, and often says awkward
things, but he is a good fellow at heart."
"Maybe so. But see here, Lenz, you have too many burrs clinging to you.
You must shake them off."
"I shall not give up my friends."
"Heaven forbid that I should ask you to! I only mean you must not let
every one get hold of you, and persuade you into everything he likes."
"There you are quite right. That is a weakness of mine, I know. You
must warn me whenever you see me in danger, till I am thoroughly cured
of it."
At these words, so pleasantly and humbly spoken, Annele suddenly stood
up straight in the carriage.
"What is the matter? what is it?" asked Lenz.
"Nothing, nothing. I don't know why I got up. I believe I don't sit
quite right. That is better. Does not our carriage ride nicely?"
"Yes, indeed. We sit in an easy-chair, and yet are abroad in the world.
It is right pleasant driving. I never before drove in my own carriage,
for your father's is the same as mine."
"Certainly."
They passed Proebler on the road. He stood still as the lovers passed,
and saluted repeatedly.
"I should like to take the old man in with us," said Lenz.
"What an absurd idea!" laughed Annele. "Proebler on a bridal drive!"
"You are right," answered Lenz. "We should not be so cosey all by
ourselves here with a third person sitting opposite, seeing and hearing
everything. It is not being unkind not to invite anybody to drive with
us now. This is a time when we need to be happy all by ourselves. How
beautiful it is! The whole world seems to laugh. Proebler laughed too,
and I am sure was not offended. He would understand that I could not
give away a second of this hour."
Annele answered with a searching look, then cast her eyes down, and
silently clasped her bridegroom's hand. Their first drive had not begun
as merrily as they had expected, but both came home with a peculiar joy
in their heart. Annele said little. A new experience was passing within
her. It was still broad daylight when Lenz helped her out of the wagon
at the door of the Lion, and left her to go up the steps alone, he
following with the carefully covered parcel which he took from under
the carriage-seat. He called her into the sitting-room, and there
solved the mystery by saying: "Annele, I give you with this the best
and dearest possession I have. My good Pilgrim painted it for me, and
it shall be yours."
Annele stared at the picture for which Lenz had so mysteriously
provided the gilt frame in the city.
"You cannot find words to describe the look my mother turns upon
you,--can you?"
"So that is your mother? I see her gown and her neckerchief and her
hood; but your mother! it might just as well be the carpenter's
Annelise or Faller's old mother. In fact, it looks rather more like old
Mrs. Faller. Why do you look so pale, as if you had not a drop of blood
left in your cheeks? Dear Lenz, can I say what is untrue? You surely do
not wish that. What fault is it of yours? Pilgrim is no artist. He
can't paint anything but his church-towers."
"It is like losing my mother over again to hear you speak so," said
Lenz.
"Don't be so sad," prayed Annele, tenderly. "I will honor the picture.
I will hang it up at once over my bed. You are not sad now,--are you?
You have been so kind and good to-day! I assure you, the picture will
help me recall your mother whenever I look at it."
Lenz turned hot and cold by turns. Thus could Annele at her pleasure
raise him to the highest happiness or wound him in his tenderest
affections. Weeks and months passed in this way. Joy predominated,
however, for a softness had come over Annele never known in her before.
Even Pilgrim said one day to Lenz: "Most men are glad to be proved in
the right, but I rejoice to see I was mistaken."
"So? In what?"
"There is no learning a woman. Annele has that in her which may make
your life happy. Very likely it is all the better she should not be as
dreamy and soft-hearted as you are."
"Thank you. Heaven be praised for bringing this to pass!" cried Lenz.
The two friends held each other long and closely by the hand.