Joseph in the Snow, and The Clockmaker Volume I Part 8

"Joseph! Joseph! are you here?" cried David, on the threshold of the church; the sound vibrated loudly. The candle fell out of the schoolmaster's hand, and he answered, trembling, "There is no one here but myself--what is the matter?"

"You allowed the children to give him the nickname of 'The Foal,' so it is your fault that he is gone off, and is nowhere to be found," cried David, and hurried away. The schoolmaster was as much in the dark about this reproach, as he now was in the church, where, after much groping about, he at last found the wax taper.

The whole village collected together, and even the stocking weaver came with his French horn, which, however, he quickly put under his old military cloak, to prevent its getting wet. "I will blow the horn all through the village," said he, "and then he will come."

"No!" said one. "The old Rottmannin has no doubt caused him to be stolen, hoping to force you, Martina, to give up Adam, for this very afternoon he was betrothed to the Forest Miller's Tony; one of the miller's men was here, and told us all about it."

"Don't drive me out of my senses," cried Martina. "Joseph! Joseph!

come! oh, come! your mother is calling you!"

While they were still standing cl.u.s.tered together, a strange looking little man was seen coming up the valley, hung all round and round with huge bundles protruding on every side. It was the hatter from the next town, bringing for the holidays, a collection of newly dressed three-cornered hats into the village.

"What is going on here?" asked the little man.

"We are looking for a child--Joseph--he has disappeared."

"How old is the child?"

"Six years old."

"I met a fine boy with a rosy face, and fair curly hair."

"Yes, yes, that must have been Joseph; for G.o.d's sake tell me where he is," said Martina, rus.h.i.+ng up to the man so eagerly, that all his hats tumbled down into the snow.

"Gently, gently! I have not got him in my bundles. Below there, in the wood, I all at once met a boy; I asked him: 'What are you doing here alone, and night beginning to fall? where are you going to?' 'To meet my father, who is coming up this road; did you not see him?' 'What is your father like?' 'Big and strong.' 'I have not seen him--come home with me, child.' 'No, I am coming home with my father.' I took hold of the child, and tried to bring him with me by force, but he being wild and obstinate, gave me the slip, and darted off like a deer, and I heard him still calling, far into the wood, 'Father! father!'"

"That was certainly Joseph; for G.o.d's sake let us go after him."

"We will all go--all!"

"Stop!" said Schilder-David, coming forward; "hatter, will you go with us?"

"I cannot, for I am so weary, I can scarcely set one foot before the other; besides, it would be of no use, for it is more than an hour since I saw the child; I stopped for some time at the Meierhof; and who knows where the child may be now; I can tell you exactly where I met him--in the Otterswald Wood, close to the river, where the large spreading beech stands. It is the only very large tree there, and you all know it."

"Very well," said Schilder-David, striving to be composed; "I shall take good care to break a branch off that tree, to make Joseph remember it."

"No! no, you are not to beat him!" exclaimed Martina--she did not like to say, that this was the very same beech tree, where Adam had spoken to her for the first time; and perhaps her child might at that very moment be lying under it--frozen to death.

"It is night, and we can see nothing, and the snow is falling faster than ever," cried Haspele; "fetch torches, ring the alarm bell; we must ask the Pastor to let us do so; come straight to the Parsonage."

Martina, however, was taken home, and when she saw the boots on the table, she sobbed more than ever, saying: "Alas! how proud he was of them, and now his dear little feet are frozen--cold--dead!"

The women round Martina tried to comfort her, and one of them said, with the kindest intentions, that to be frozen to death was the easiest of all deaths; it was simply falling asleep, and never awaking.

"He would fall asleep on earth, to awake in Heaven," said the poor mother, weeping bitterly. "My Joseph prophesied it himself; he was too wise, too good, and went to meet his father. No, I will not die! when Adam goes to church with his bride, he shall hear my Joseph cry out from above, 'No!' and--he called 'father! father!' his father did not answer him; he did not know his voice--but day and night he will know it now. So long as he lives it will sound in his ears, that his child was frozen to death in his own wood; he need not go out and try to wrap him up now--too late--too late! his heart must be as hard as a stone!

and there is the wooden horse my boy played with; it looks pitifully at me, though only wood; but the father is of wood too, he has no pity, he has killed his child. How often have I seen him holding out bread to his wooden horse! Oh! he had such a kind heart! oh! Joseph, Joseph!"

One of the women whispered to the other: "It would be a happy thing if he were only frozen to death, for a huge wolf is prowling about in the wood, and who knows if it has not torn the child to pieces." Though this was said in so low a voice, the ears of those who grieve are wonderfully acute; in the midst of her loud lamentations, Martina caught the words, and suddenly screamed out "The wolf, the wolf!" she clenched her hands and said, convulsively, "Oh! that I could strangle it with my own hands!" and looking at Leegart, she said, sobbing, "Oh!

Leegart! Leegart! why do you sit sewing there at the darling's jacket, when the child is dead?"

"I did not hear a syllable; don't blame me; I heard nothing; you would not say a word; I asked three times, and no one answered. You know I have no superst.i.tion--nothing is so silly as to be superst.i.tious; still there is no doubt of the fact, that so long as you go on either sewing or spinning for any one, that person cannot die. There was once a king----" and in the midst of all the distress and confusion, Leegart coolly related the story of Penelope and Ulysses, with some singular additions of her own; saying that Penelope had worked indefatigably at her web, but undid at night what she had done by day, and thus saved the life of her husband, who was in America.

Leegart was afraid, and not without cause, that in the agitation of the moment, her tale was not very distinctly heard; she acted, therefore, prudently, in proceeding with her story without pausing, or even looking up. When she was once seated, it was well known that she never left her chair till her time was up, and when she once began to tell a story, she went on steadily to the very end; indeed, if the house had taken fire, it was very doubtful whether she would have moved. We must hope, therefore, that the fire will be kind enough to wait till Leegart's hour for departure is come.

While Martina was lamenting with the women in the house, the whole troop of men, had arrived at the Parsonage, and Haspele offered to be spokesman. The children, too, begged hard to be allowed to go with the rest to look for Joseph, but their mothers began to cry and to hold them back, while the fathers shook them off impatiently, and scolded them soundly into the bargain. The decrepit old men, who had crept forth from their snug corners beside the stove, took the women and children home with them.

It looked like the vanguard of an army advancing on the foe--but where was the foe? There were some, however, who declared that it was utterly absurd to seek a child in the forest, in such a storm and in such blinding snow; it would be exactly like looking for a needle in a haystack. Haspele, however, called out, "Those who don't like to go with us can stay behind, there is no need to coax any one to go." Not one person left them. Haspele went up stairs and entreated the Pastor to allow the alarm bell to be rung. The Pastor was much distressed on hearing about Joseph, but said, he could not permit the alarm bell to be sounded, for it would terrify the neighbouring parishes without sufficient cause, and make them reluctant perhaps to give their a.s.sistance on some future occasion.

"It is good of you to go in such numbers to seek Joseph; I am glad to see it," said he in conclusion.

"There is not a single young healthy man in the village staying behind," said Haspele.

"I, however, am obliged to remain here," said the Pastor with a smile; "the Rottmannin occupied all my time last night, and I must be ready for midnight service in the church--but we will all pray for those who are in the forest."

"I will go instead of you," said his brother-in-law. "Who is your leader?"

"We have none; will you be so good as to be our conductor, Herr brother-in-law?"

All laughed, for Haspele, not knowing the young farmer's name, designated him simply as the Pastor's brother-in-law.

"My name is Brand," said Edward; "I know the path, for I was there to-day."

"The Pastorin's brother is going with us," was soon whispered into the street, and everyone was pleased. Haspele was right; with the exception of the sick and decrepit, every man in the village was present--they were all standing at the door with torches, iron spikes, ladders, axes, and long ropes.

"Is there any one here who can make a signal?" asked Edward. The stocking weaver drew his horn from under his cloak. The instrument did not s.h.i.+ne brighter in the torchlight than the face of the stocking weaver, who had suddenly become so important a personage.

"Good! keep close to me. According to my ideas this is the best plan: the bugler is to go with me to the Reitersberg, where we will light a fire, and then let all disperse two and two; not one alone. Whoever finds Joseph, must either bring him to us on the Reitersberg, or at least any tidings of him. Three loud long blasts of the horn will be heard at intervals, so long as Joseph is not found; but as soon as we find him, three short notes will be sounded, and continued till we are all rea.s.sembled. But what would be still better; I have my gun with me, are there any others in the village?"

"Certainly there are."

"Then go and fetch several, and when Joseph is found, we will fire three consecutive shots. If we were not to do that, very possibly some of your good people might still be running about in the snow and cold, long after Joseph was found."

"He is right--a capital notion! Just like the brother of our Frau Pastorin."

The young farmer smiled, and continued: "One thing more: we have coverlets and mattra.s.ses with us. Is there any dog in the village that knows Joseph?"

"They all know him, and love him. You know Joseph, don't you, Blitz?"

said Haspele to a large dog at his heels.

The huge yellow dog answered by a loud bark, and a wag of his tail.

"Very well," exclaimed Edward, "let loose the dogs then."

"And we will hang lanterns round their necks, and round our own the bells of the cows, and those of our teams."

Every one had a fresh suggestion to make, so it was fortunate that the various opinions were concentrated into one by their leader.