The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume Viii Part 23

Presently Amrei got up. Her face was glowing, and when she stood before the gla.s.s, she exclaimed:

"Gracious heavens! How can it be? All this seems almost impossible!"

"Well, there are still some hard planks to pierce; but I am not worrying about that. Now lie down and rest for a short time while I look for a Bernese chaise-wagon--you can't ride on horseback with me in the daytime--and we want one anyway."

"I cannot sleep--I have a letter to write to Haldenbrunn. I am away from there now, and yet I enjoyed a great many good times there. And I have other matters to settle, besides."

"Very well, do that until I come back."

John went out, and Amrei wrote a long letter to the Magistrate in Haldenbrunn, thanking the entire community for benefits received, and promising to adopt a child from the place some day, if it were possible; and she once more begged to have Black Marianne's hymn-book placed under the good old woman's head. When she had finished, she sealed the letter and pressed her lips tight together with the remark:

"So! Now I have done my duty to the people of Haldenbrunn."

But she quickly tore the letter open again, for she considered it her duty to show John what she had written. But a long time pa.s.sed and he did not return. And Amrei blushed when the chatty hostess said:

"I suppose your husband has some business at the Town-hall?"

It seemed to strike her with a strange shock to have John called her "husband" for the first time.

She could not answer, and the hostess looked at her in wonder. She knew no other way of escaping from her strange glances than by going out in front of the house, where she sat on some piled-up boards for a long time, waiting for John. It was, indeed, a long time before he did come back; and when at last she caught sight of him, she said:

"When something calls you away like that again, you'll take me with you, won't you?"

"Oh," he answered, "so you were afraid, were you? Did you think I had gone off and left you? What would you think if I were to leave you here and simply ride away?"

Amrei started, and then she said, severely:

"I can't say that you are very witty; in fact to joke about such a thing as that is miserably stupid. I am sorry that you said that; for you did something that is bad for you if you realize it, and bad for you if you don't realize it. You talk about riding away, and think that I am to cry to amuse you. Do you imagine, perhaps, that because you have a horse and money, you can do as you please with me? No, your horse carried us away together, and I came with you. What would you think if I were to say jokingly: 'How would it be if I left you alone?' I am sorry that you made such a jest!"

"Yes, yes, I'll say that you are right. But now, forget about it."

"No! I talk of a thing as long as there is anything about it in me, when I am the offended person, and it is for me to stop talking about it when I choose. And you offended yourself, too, in this matter--I mean your real self, the person you are, and ought to be. When any one else says anything that is not right, I can jump over it, but on you there must not be a single spot; and believe me, to joke about such a thing as that, is as if one took the crucifix yonder to play with as a doll."

"Oho, it's not as bad as that! But it seems to me you can't appreciate a jest."

"I can appreciate one very well, as you shall see, but no such a one as that. But now, that's enough about it; now I have finished and shall think nothing more of it."

This little incident showed both of them early that, with all their mutual devotion, they must be careful with each other. Amrei felt that she had been too severe, whereas John was made to realize that it did not behoove him to make jest of Amrei's solitary position, and of her absolute dependence upon him. They did not say this to each other, but each of them knew that the other felt it.

The little cloud that had thus come up soon evaporated under the bright sun that now broke through it. And Amrei rejoiced like a child when a pretty, green Bernese chaise-wagon came, with a round, padded seat in it; and before the horse had been hitched to it, she took her seat and clapped her hands with joy.

"Now you have only to make me fly!" she said to John, who was busy hitching the horse. "I have ridden horseback with you, and now I am driving with you; there is nothing left for me to do but fly." [The two lovers now started out again, and were supremely happy as they rode along, discussing all sorts of things. They came upon an old woman by the road-side, and it gave Amrei a thrill of satisfaction she never before had felt to be able to throw out a pair of shoes to her. John commended this charitable instinct in her, and then began to tell her all about his home.]

Was it by a tacit agreement, or was it due to the influence which the present time exerted upon them, that they spoke not a word of how their arrival at John's house was to be arranged until toward noon, when they reached the outskirts of Zumarshofen? Only when they began to meet people who knew John, and who saluted him with glances of wonder at his companion, did he declare to Amrei that he had thought of two ways in which the thing might best be done. Either he would take Amrei to his sister, who lived a short distance further on--one could see the steeple of her village peering up from behind a hill--and then go home alone and explain everything, or else he would take Amrei home at once--that is, she should get down half a mile before they got there, and enter the house alone in the character of a maid.

Amrei showed great cleverness in explaining what should guide them in this matter, and what might come of their adopting either of the two methods of procedure proposed by John. If she stopped at his sister's, she would first have to win over to her side a person who would not be the one with whom the final decision lay, and it might result in all kinds of complications, the end of which could not be foreseen. And moreover, it would always be an unpleasant reflection, and there would be all sorts of remarks made about it--as if she had not dared to go straight to the house. The second plan seemed to her the better one; but it went against her very soul to enter the house by means of a deception. His mother, to be sure, had promised years ago to take her into her service; but she did not want to go into her service now, and it would be almost like stealing to try to worm herself into favor with the old people in that way. And furthermore in such a disguise she would be sure to do everything clumsily; she would not be able to be natural and straightforward, and if she had to place a chair for his father, she would be sure to overturn it, for she would always be thinking: "You are doing this to deceive him." Moreover, even supposing all this could be done, how could she afterward appear before the servants, when they learned that their mistress had been obliged to smuggle herself into the house as a maid? And she would not be able to speak a single word with John all the time. She closed her explanation with the words:

"I have told you this only because you wanted to hear my opinion, too, and if you talk anything over with me, I must speak out freely what is in my mind. But I tell you, at the same time, whatever you wish, and whatever you tell me to do, I shall do it. If you say it should be so, so it shall be. I'll obey you without objection, and whatever you lay upon me to do, that shall I do as best I can."

"Yes, yes, you are right," said John, absorbed in thought. "They are both crooked ways, the first the less so. But now that we are so near home, we must make up our minds quickly. Do you see that bare patch in the forest yonder on the hill, with the little hut on it? And do you see the cows, which look as small as beetles? That's our upland pasture, that's where I intend to put your Damie."

Amrei cried out in amazement:

"Good heavens! To think where men will venture!--But that must be good pasturing land."

"So it is; but when father gives up the farm to me, I shall introduce more stall-feeding--it's the better way. But old people are fond of retaining old customs. But why are we chattering again? And now that we are so near! If I had only thought about this sooner! My head seems on fire."

"Only keep calm; we must think it over quietly. I have a vague idea of a way it can be done, but it doesn't seem quite plain yet."

"Ah! What do you think?"

"No, you think about it too. Perhaps you'll hit upon the right way yourself. It's a matter for you to arrange, and both of our minds are in such confusion now, that it will be a relief to us if we both hit upon a way at once."

"Yes, I have an idea already. In the next village but one there is a clergyman, whom I know very well, and who will give us the best advice.

But wait! Here is a better way yet. Suppose I stay yonder in the valley at the miller's, and you go up to the farm and simply tell my parents the whole story. You'll have my mother on your side directly; and you are clever, and you'll manage my father in no time so that you can wind him around your finger. Yes, that is the best way. Then we shan't have to wait, and we shall have asked no stranger for help. What do you think? Is that putting too much upon you?"

"That was exactly my idea too. So now there is no more considering to be done, no more at all. That way shall stand as fast as if it were down in ink. That's the way it shall be done, and 'quick to work makes the master.' Oh, you don't know what a dear, good, splendid, honest fellow you are!"

"No, it's you! But that is all the same now, for we two are but one honest person, and so we shall remain. Look here--give me your hand; that yonder is our first field. G.o.d greet thee, wifee, for now thou art at home! And hurrah! there's our stork flying up. Stork! cry 'Welcome;'

this is your new mistress! 'I'll tell you more later!' Now, Amrei, don't be gone too long, and send some one down to me at the mill as soon as you can--if the wagoner is at home, you'd best send him, for he can run like a hare. There, do you see that house yonder, with the stork's nest, and the two barns on the hillside, to the left of the wood? There's a linden by the house--do you see it?"

"Yes."

"That's our house. Now, come, get you down. You can't miss your way now."

John got down and helped Amrei out of the chaise. The girl, holding the necklace, which she had put into her pocket, like a rosary in her clasped hands, prayed silently; John also took off his hat, and his lips moved. The two did not say another word to each other, but Amrei went on alone. John stood looking after her for a long time, leaning against the white horse. Once she turned about and tried to coax the dog to return to his master. But he would not go; he would run aside into the field, and then start to follow her again; and not until John whistled, did the creature come back to him.

John drove on to the mill and stopped there. He learned that his father had been there an hour ago to wait for him, but had gone away again.

John was glad to hear that his father was strong and on his feet again, and glad because he knew that Amrei would now find both his parents at home. The people in the mill could not understand why John lingered with them, and yet would hardly listen to a word they said. He kept going in and out, and looking up the road toward the farm; for John was very anxious and restless. He counted the steps that Amrei had to go; now she would be in the fields, now she would have to go to this, now to that hedge; now she would be speaking to his parents. And after all he could not completely satisfy himself as to just what she would be doing.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE FIRST HEARTH-FIRE

Meanwhile Amrei went on, wrapped in thought. Her manner showed the effect of the self-reliance she had learned to practice in her childhood. It was not for nothing that she had been accustomed to solve riddles, and that from day to day she had struggled with life's difficulties. The whole strength of the character she had acquired was firmly and securely implanted within her. Without further question, as a man goes forward to meet a necessity, quiet and self-possessed, so did she, boldly and of good courage, go on her way.

She had not gone far when she saw a farmer sitting by the wayside, with a red cane between his legs; and on this cane he was resting his two hands and his chin.

"G.o.d greet you," said Amrei. "Are you enjoying a rest?"

"Yes. Where are you going?"

"Up yonder to the farm. Are you going there too? If so, you may lean on me."

"Yes, that is the way," said the old man with a grin. "Thirty years ago I should have cared more about it, if such a pretty girl had said that to me; I should have jumped like a colt."