CHAPTER XXII.

THE MORNING GIFT.

"I am glad we celebrate our wedding again today,--aren't you, little

wife?" asked Lenz, the next morning.

"No; why are you?"

"My crying spoiled my enjoyment yesterday; this morning, for the first

time, I am perfectly happy. To-day will seem like going to a friend's

wedding,--won't it?"

"What a strange man you are!" said Annele, smiling.

"Stop!" said Lenz, suddenly starting up. "I must give you something.

Wait a minute."

He went into the chamber, and made a long search. What would he bring

out? He must have remembered the gold chain and ear-rings that were the

bridegroom's usual present. But he should have given them yesterday;

why to-day? Annele had plenty of time to wonder before Lenz returned.

"Here I have it," he exclaimed, coming back at last. "I had misplaced

it. This is my blessed mother's garnet necklace. It is made of good old

garnets, and will look beautifully on your dear neck. Come, try it on!"

"No, Lenz, it is too old-fashioned. I cannot wear it. It would scratch

my neck too. I really cannot wear it. I will exchange it at the

jeweler's.

"That you shall not."

"Just as you like. What else have you there?"

"This is something I can give to no one but yourself. My blessed mother

so directed. It has no value in itself, but yet is very wonderful."

"Show me the wonder."

"See!"

"What is it?"

"It is Edelweiss, a little plant that grows under the snow. See what my

mother has written there!"

"I cannot read it, it is so badly written; read it for me."

Lenz read aloud: "This is a little plant--Edelweiss--that grew on the

highest mountain in Switzerland, under the snow. It was found by my

husband, who thought of me as he picked it, brought it home with him,

and gave it to me, on our wedding day. I wish it placed in my hand,

when I am laid in the ground. Should it, however, be forgotten or

overlooked, my son must give it to his wife the morning after their

marriage, and, as long as she shall hold it in honor it will bring a

blessing. There is no magic in it, however. This plant is called

Edelweiss.--MARIE LENZ."

"Does it not go to your heart to hear one so speak to you from the

dead? Let it not affect you too much. Be cheerful! She liked to have

every one cheerful, and was always so herself, though she had seen much

sorrow."

Annele smiled, wrapped the little plant in its paper again, and laid it

aside with the garnet necklace.

The young people sat chatting together till a message came from the

Lion that they must make haste down, for many visitors had already

arrived.

Franzl was such an awkward lady's maid, that Lenz had to go down first,

and send up some one from the hotel. He said he should go to Faller's,

too, and invite him to the party; he must be there to-day, and Annele

must treat him kindly, and forget whatever clumsy thing he might have

said.

"Yes, yes," said Annele, "only go quick, and send me up Margaret, or,

better still, Ernestine."

She made her appearance at length in her old home, and was warmly

welcomed and embraced by her mother, and taken into the little parlor,

where she at once began to complain of Lenz's having given her, that

morning, an old string of garnets and a dried flower for her wedding

present. She could not show herself before all the hotelkeepers'

daughters, to say nothing of their wives and sons, without a gold

chain. "He is an old skinflint," she exclaimed, "a stupid, petty

clockmaker."

"Annele," her mother prudently answered, "he is no miser, for he did

not ask a word about your dowry; and neither is he stupid,--rather too

clever, if anything. Last night there came a silversmith from Pforzheim

with a great box under his arm. Lenz ordered him, you may be sure; so

now you can pick out the prettiest chain the jeweller has."

The landlady knew very well that Annele would not believe the

falsehood, and Annele knew equally well that her mother did not think

her so silly as to be taken in by it, but both acted as if perfectly

sincere, and the event decided in their favor. Lenz had been missing

for some time, during which interval he was standing with Ernestine on

the dark cellar stairs. Presently, sure enough, he came, bringing

Annele a gold chain from the silversmith, who was in the house. After

all her hints he had not understood that he should have left the choice

to her, and so got little thanks for his tardy gift.

Annele, however, soon recovered her good-humor, as became a landlord's

daughter. What goes on in the family parlor does not belong in the

public room.

If there was no end to the carriages yesterday, there was still less

to-day. For now came all the hotel-keepers from far and wide, with

their gay bells and handsome, well-fed horses. This was the time to

show who one was and what he had. The landlords and their wives and

daughters went about as if every back felt the weight of a whole hotel.

Every look said: We live just so at home; and if we have not as much

money as mine host of the Lion, we are quite satisfied with what we

have.

Now began such greetings, such giving of presents, such admiration,

such extravagant thanks for the rich gifts! Oh, that is too much! that

is too superb! No one but the landlady of the Bear would have thought

of that! I should know that was from the landlady of the Eagle! And the

landlady of the Angel! I hope to show what we can do some day, but it

will never equal this. It was wonderful how many pretty speeches Annele

could make. Lenz stood by, and could not say a word. Those who did not

know him thought he was dull or simple. But all this mutual giving and

thanking did not please him.

Next came the poor clockmakers, whose works the landlord sent off to

foreign markets, and who were kept very close under the great man's

thumb. Annele paid them no attention, so they addressed themselves

chiefly to Lenz expressing a certain pleased satisfaction at a

clockmaker's becoming son-in-law of the landlord of the Lion. Many

hoped for easier terms now with the landlord; others asked Lenz the

plain question whether he meant to give up his profession, and turn

merchant and hotel-keeper, and smiled when he assured them he should

remain as he was. They also asked him sarcastically, whether, now that

he had a rich dealer for his father-in-law, he should want to introduce

his standard regulator, and establish the association which was to

secure to every workman his full earnings. They made faces of

astonishment when Lenz declared that the sooner the association was

formed the better he should be pleased, and that he should be one of

the first to join it. When these poor fellows, whose poverty you could

read in their faces, who with fourteen hours' daily labor could only

make out to live by practising an almost incredible economy and

self-denial, pressed their half-florin or a sixpenny piece, sometimes

only a threepence, into Lenz's hand, it burned him like live coals. He

would gladly have returned the gifts, had he not feared to hurt their

feelings. When a pause enabled him to get Annele's attention, he told

her how he felt. She stared hopelessly at him, and said, shaking her

head: "My father is right, you are no business man. You can work and

earn your bread, but as for making others work and earn for you, you

have no conception of it. You are always asking how this one or that

one gets on. That is not the way. You must drive through the world as

comfortably as you can, and not ask who has to go barefoot. But you

would like to take old Proebler and your whole swarm of beggars to drive

with you. However, I will not read you a lesson now.--Ah, welcome, dear

landlady of the Lamb! the later the hour the fairer the guest. I have

long been thinking, and a minute ago was saying to my mother, Where can

the good landlady of the Lamb at Edelshof be? Half my pleasure would be

destroyed if she did not come to honor my wedding. And this is your

daughter-in-law? Where is the husband?"

"He is below with the horses. It is hard to find shelter for them

to-day."

"Yes; thank Heaven, we have many good friends. Such a day shows how

full the world is of them. Lenz, show the landlady of the Lamb to the

upper table. I have reserved a seat of honor there for her." And Annele

turned away to welcome other guests.

That she should reproach him--reproach him on such a day as this--with

thinking too much of others was a cruel sting to Lenz, though he did

not let it dwell on his mind. He was forced to own that she was right;

that this very weakness of his made him less successful in the world

than other men,--made him seem less capable than he really was. The

recollection of a word or action would haunt him for days, destroying

all his peace. Other men fare better. They live for themselves, and

heap together what they get without asking about their fellows. He must

learn to do so too, if he would have any position. Lenz stood for a

while lost in these thoughts, as forgetful of all the noisy rejoicings

about him as if they had no reference to him. But he soon roused

himself again to take part in them,--and the chief part, as became the

bridegroom.

The house was crowded, and pleasant it was to see so many persons

collected together to share in a neighbor's joy. The merriment was so

well kept up, that in the evening, when the guests began to think of

leaving, the landlord played a trick upon them. He ordered Gregory to

take all the poles from the sleighs and hide them. The distinguished

guests consequently could not get away, and were obliged to stay till

long after midnight. So much the better, they consoled themselves with

saying, because now we shall have the moon.

No stratagem was used to detain the petty clockmakers, of whom many

were anxious to be at home early, in order not to lose a second

working-day. Others, however, wanted to get the full value of their

wedding present, and sat and ate continuously, as if they had to lay in

a supply for the next year. From morning till late at night fresh

dishes were constantly served. The supply of meat and sausages and

sour-krout seemed inexhaustible.

Faller moved about among the wedding guests quite stiff and embarrassed

till Ernestine set him at ease by tying a great white apron on him and

bidding him help her tend table. I only do it for Lenz's sake, he said

to himself, and would like to have said to every one he handed

refreshments to. For his own part, he ate and drank almost nothing. On

getting hold of Lenz for a moment, he said to him: "I have given you no

wedding present. Little I will not give, and much I cannot. How gladly

would I give the heart out of my body!" Lenz only admonished his

faithful comrade to help himself first, and be as merry as he could.

Before it was yet too late, he remembered he had meant to invite old

Proebler, and sent Faller in search of him. The old man came, but could

not be persuaded to enter the guest-room, having no Sunday clothes; so

Lenz gave him a dish of eatables, enough to last three days, and a

bottle of good wine into the bargain. Old Proebler was so surprised he

almost forgot to offer his usual pinch of snuff, and could only say, "I

will bring back the bottle." "You may keep it," replied Lenz. In high

glee the old fellow took himself off.

It was almost morning before Lenz and Annele set out for home. The moon

had risen, but was obscured by clouds. They walked up the mountain this

time, with neither escort nor torches. Annele complained that it was

frightfully dark, and she was ready to drop with fatigue. "I ought to

have stayed at home," she said.

"At home? up there is your home."

She made no answer, and the two went on side by side for a time in

silence.

"Have you counted the money you received?" she asked, presently.

"No, I can do that at home. There is a good deal, for it is heavy in my

hand. Luckily, your father lent me one of his empty money-bags."

"Empty? he has plenty of full ones!" said Annele, with temper.

"I did not ask for those, nor think of them."

As soon as they reached home she insisted on Lenz counting the money at

once. But he was so slow she took it into her own hands, and showed

that a landlord's daughter was much quicker at figures.

"I have been thinking the matter over," said Lenz, while she was

counting. "It is well to accept presents even from the poor. It teaches

them self-respect, and makes it easier for them to apply to us for help

in their difficulties."

Annele stopped in her counting and stared at him. He had such strange

reasons for the commonest things! He would adopt no custom until he

could reconcile it with his ideas of right; then he embraced it

heartily. Annele said nothing, but her lips kept repeating the number

she had in her mind, lest she should forget it.

The money amounted to just one hundred and twenty florins, counting

four counterfeit sixpences. Annele was terribly hard on the mean things

who would cheat them with such money.

"Don't speak so," remonstrated Lenz; "perhaps they were poor people,

who had nothing else."

Her eyes flashed. "You seem to understand everything better than I do.

I should think I did not know anything."

"I did not mean so. Be kind, Annele!"

"I never was cross in all my life. You are the first person who ever

called me cross. You may ask whom you like. You might have seen to-day

what the world thinks of me."

"O, very well; it is not worth disputing about."

"I am not disputing. It makes no difference what it is, if it is only

half a farthing. I will not be contradicted so whenever I speak."

"Certainly not; only do be quiet, or Franzl will think we are having a

quarrel."

"Franzl may think what she chooses. I tell you now Franzl must go out

of this house."

"But not to-day?"

"Not to-day, but to-morrow, or soon."

"Then we will talk about it to-morrow. I am tired, and so are you, you

said."

"Yes, but when an injustice is done me it cures all my fatigue; there

is no tiring me then."

"I have done you no injustice, and desire to do you none. Remember what

the minister said: we have a common honor."

"You need not tell me what the minister said. He ought not to have said

it. He preached as if he were trying to make peace."

"Please God, that shall never be necessary. We will be of one mind, and

bear joy and sorrow in loving fidelity, as my mother used to say."

"We will show the world that we live honestly together."

"Shall I set the musical clock going?"

"No, we have had enough for to-day."

Edelweiss: A Story · 第 22 / 40 章