An Old Story of My Farming Days Volume Ii Part 3

Fred also took leave of the others, and striking through the fields to the right took a short cut to Pumpelhagen.

He thought deeply as he went along the quiet field-path. He was not jealous, but still he had an uncomfortable feeling that his old school-fellows at Rahnstadt grammar-school had pa.s.sed him in the race of life, for they were both engaged to be married while he was still free. However he soon comforted himself by the thought that _he_ could never have engaged himself to a girl like either of the twins; that if Lina or Mina had been offered to him he would not have accepted the gift, and Louisa Hawermann was not good enough for him either. He would have been a fool if he had been contented with the first best plum he could reach, for such plums are always sour, no, he would wait till they were all ripe, and then he would take his choice. Till his choice was made, he had the pleasant feeling that, he could have any one he liked to honour with his regard, in the same way as before he bought his horse, he might have his choice of all horses. However he had made up his mind to buy Augustus Prebberow's mare Whalebone the very next day.

CHAPTER VII.

A few weeks pa.s.sed by, during which Alick, instead of going about the place and seeing how his estate was managed, shut himself up with Flegel, the carpenter, and busied himself in making a machine from the model he had formerly invented, that would act as harrow and clod-breaker at one and the same time. He wanted to complete it as soon as possible, for the benefit of himself, and the world at large. All the letters and accounts which ought to have been attended to regularly, and which form a portion of the necessary daily work of any one who has a large estate to manage, were pushed aside as matters of small moment. When Alick came home to dinner or supper he looked as grave and important as if he had been busy at the farm all day, and wished his wife to see how very necessary his presence was for the proper conduct of affairs. And who is so credulous as a young wife?

Some one may say: a girl during her engagement. But that is a mistake, for her position is not so a.s.sured. She is always trying to know and understand her future husband better. But when once a woman thinks she knows a man's character, and has given him her hand, she follows him blindly until the bandage is torn rudely from her eyes. Then she strives against the truth, refuses to credit what she sees, and thinks it her duty to disbelieve the testimony of her own eyes. They were not wicked actions that he hid from her; they were only follies which he firmly believed would improve his affairs. But it was a pity that he did not know what he was doing, and that she did not see it. It never occurred to her that he could act differently with regard to his share of the duties of the estate, from what she did in her own domain of kitchen, larder and dairy, where she went about daily, looking carefully into everything, and learning all that she could, so as to be able to take the charge of everything into her own hands.

Nothing lasts more than a certain time, and as old Kopk, the shepherd, said: Puppies have their eyes opened on the ninth day.

Late one afternoon when Mrs. von Rambow was walking up and down the garden under the shade, of the high hedge which ran round the corner of the yard near the workshop, she heard an angry dialogue on the other side of it. "So--you don't like the looks of it! Do you think that I like it any better? Ugh! Get along with you! Get along with you, or ...."--Thud came something against the door. She wondered what was the matter and peeped through the hedge, but could only see the old carpenter Frederic Flegel. There was no one else there, and all the noise was made by the carpenter, who was quarrelling with his tools and his work. It is amusing to see a man in a rage with his own handiwork, and Mrs. von Rambow smilingly watched the old man: "Go to the devil!

You're a deal more trouble than you're worth."--Thud! Thud! His foot-rule flew over the half-door, and when he had picked it up, he stood staring at the ground at his feet, muttering: "Confound the thing! It has nearly bothered me out of my life!"--"Good-evening, Flegel," said another voice, and Kegel, the labourer, coming up, leant upon his spade and asked: "What are you working at here? It's a holiday you know."--"Working at, did you say? There's enough to be done in all conscience! It'll be the death of me! Look. That's supposed to be a model! I can work from a model as well as any man, but devil a bit can I make head or tail of that thing."--"Is it the same machine that you were working at before?"--"Of course it is, and it won't be finished this summer either."--"He must be a clever fellow to be able to invent a thing like that."--"Do you think so? Then let me tell you that any fool can do that sort of inventing, but it takes a wise man to make a really useful machine. Look you, there are three kinds of people in the world. Those who understand how a thing ought to be, but can't make it themselves; those who can't understand, but can work under direction, and those who can neither understand how a thing should be made, nor are able to make it, and he belongs to the last cla.s.s," so saying he flung his foot-rule at the door again, adding: "And what's to be done I don't know."--"Well, Flegel, I must say that I can't make out what he means. He said we were to go straight to him whenever we wanted anything, so I went and told him I required more potato-ground, and he said he didn't understand the rights of the case, and that he would ask Mr. Hawermann. And you see if it comes to that I've no chance, for he knows that the reason I ran short before was because I didn't hoe my potatoes properly."--"Mr. Hawermann's a great deal easier to work for though. He says to me: 'Flegel,' says he, 'make a handle for this hoe;'

I do it, and then he says: 'Flegel, this wheel wants mending;' I mend it as he desires, and have no more trouble; but with him ..... Ah well, Kegel, mark my words, he'll come to grief, and so shall we before very long."--"You're right there," answered the labourer, "it's all of a piece with my potato-ground."--"Fair play's a jewel!" said Flegel as he locked the workshop-door and put on his blouse. "It's your own fault about the potatoes, remember. If you'd looked after them properly you'd have had enough."--"Yes," replied Kegel, shouldering his spade, and walking away with the carpenter, "but that doesn't help me to the garden, and it seems that I must just get on with what I have."

It is a true saying that even great and learned people are pleased when they hear the praises of those they love from the mouths of children or inferiors, and it is equally true that a harsh judgment coming from the same source hurts and saddens those who hear it. It was not much that she had heard. It was only village-gossip such as foolish men continually utter, but the smile had died out of the young wife's eyes, and a look of displeasure had taken its place. Circ.u.mstances had prevented her husband fulfilling the promises he had made in ignorance of all they implied; his kindness of heart had carried him further than he had intended.

Mrs. von Rambow was very silent when Alick came in to supper, and he on the contrary was more talkative than usual. "Now then, Frida dear," he began, "we are pretty well settled, and I think it's high time for us to make some calls on our neighbours."--"Very well Alick, but who do you mean?"--"I think," he said, "that we ought to begin with those who live within walking-distance of us."--"Then we should go to see our clergyman first."--"We'll go there of course--but not quite yet."--"Who else is there?" asked Frida thoughtfully. "Oh, Mr. Pomuchelskopp and Mr. Nussler."--"Dear Frida," said Alick, looking a little grave, "surely you're joking when you speak of the Nusslers. We can't admit tenant-farmers to our acquaintance."--"I don't quite agree with you there," answered his wife quietly. "I think more of what people are, than of their position. Your customs here may be different from ours in Prussia, but when I lived in my father's house we knew a great many families intimately, who only rented the land on which they lived.

Mrs. Nussler is said to be very nice."--"She is the sister of my bailiff. I can't call at her house; it wouldn't do."--"But Mr.

Pomuchelskopp?"--"That's quite different. He is a land-owner, is rich, and is a justice of peace as well as myself ...."--"And has a bad name in the parish, and his wife still worse. No, Alick, I won't go there."--"My dear child ...."--"No, Alick; I don't think that you quite see all the bearings of the case. Supposing Mr. Nussler had bought Gurlitz, would you have called on him?"--"That's supposing an impossibility. I will not call on the Nusslers," he said angrily.--"Nor I on the Pomuchelskopps, I dislike them so much," said Mrs. von Rambow decidedly.--"Frida," began her husband.--"No, Alick," she said firmly, "I'll drive to Gurlitz with you to-morrow, but will get out at the parsonage."

That was the end of it. There was no quarrel, but both held to their own determination. Frida would gladly have given way to her husband, if it had not been for the disagreeable feeling left on her mind by what she had heard, which made her feel that Alick said and did things rashly without considering the consequences, and wanted firmness to carry out his intentions. Alick would gladly have given way to his wife had he not felt that Pomuchelskopp was a rich man, and that he might find it useful to be on friendly terms with him; and he would have liked to have gone to Rexow, had it not been that the foolish notions he had picked up in his regiment stuck in his throat.

It was all over now, and could not be altered. The beginning of strife had made its way into the house, and the door had remained ajar so that it might enter in and take up its abode there. Domestic strife may be likened to the tail of a kite, such as children play with, the string forming it is very long, and there are small bundles attached to it at regular intervals. Now though these bundles are only sc.r.a.ps of paper, still when once they get entangled it is long and weary work trying to straighten out the tail again, for there is neither beginning nor end to be found.

The next afternoon they started on foot for Gurlitz, as Alick had agreed to Frida's request to walk instead of driving. After taking her to the door of the parsonage Alick left her, and promising to call for her on his way home, set off for the manor-house.

They had just finished coffee at the Pomuchelskopps, and Phil, Tony and the other little ones were still hanging about the table like foals before the hayrack. They dipped bits of bread into the sugar at the bottom of the coffee-cups, and smeared their faces therewith. Then they mashed up the softened bread with tea-spoons and their fingers, and wrote their own beautiful name "Pomuchelskopp" on the table with spilt coffee and milk, glancing at their mother every now and then innocently, as much as to say, it wasn't me. Mrs. Pomuchelskopp was seated at the table, dressed in her old black gown, and watching the children to see that they were behaving themselves. Pomuchelskopp himself was lying on the sofa smoking, and looking at the picture of domestic happiness, sloppy bread and melted sugar before him. He had finished his coffee, for he always had a cup made particularly for himself, though he never got it, for Mally and Sally whose duty it was to make the coffee in turns used to drink half of the cup prepared for him, and then fill it up from the family coffee-pot. He lay back in the sofa-corner, his left leg crossed over his right according to the ordinance of Duke Adolphus of Cleves: "When a judge is sitting in the judgment-hall, let him always cross his left leg over his right," &c, and if he was not a judge, he was in point of fact more than that; he was a law-giver, and was busy thinking how absolutely necessary it was for him to attend the Mecklenburg parliament when it next met.

"Henny," he said, "I intend to go to the next parliament."--"Oh!" said his wife, "hav'n't you any other opportunity of spending money?"--"Why, chick, my position demands that I should show myself there, and it won't cost me much. The next parliament is to meet at Malchin, which isn't far from here, and if I take a basket ....."--"Then I suppose you expect me to put on your boots, and wade through the mud to see that the men are doing their work?"--"You needn't trouble to do that, my chick. Gus will look after everything of that sort, and if I'm wanted I can be home at an hour's notice."--"But father," said Mally, who was considered a great politician because she was the only one of the family who ever read the Rostock newspaper to such purpose as to know where their Serene Highnesses the Grand-Duke and Grand-d.u.c.h.ess were staying, for Pomuchelskopp looked at nothing but the state of the corn and money markets. "But father," she said, "you ought not to go unless you are prepared to try and bring about some reforms of great importance, such as allowing middle-cla.s.s landowners to wear red coats, and then the convent question." She spoke as if she thought the convent question had reference to herself.--"What!" cried Pomuchelskopp, rising and pacing the room with long strides, "you surely don't think so meanly of your father as to imagine that he would go and give his votes and influence to the middle-cla.s.s landowners and neglect the interests of his own family? No, if anything goes wrong here, write for me to come home. And as for the red coat, if I'm to have it I know the best way--Let everyone look out for himself--It'll redound more to my honour if I win it for myself _alone_, and not merely as one of a lot of poor wretches who have only a few hundred pounds to bless themselves with.

When I come home and say: Mally, I alone have got it; you may be proud of your father." While saying this he crossed the room, and blew a cloud of tobacco smoke right in the face of his innocent child, making her look like one of the angels with a trumpet sitting in the clouds, and as if she had only to put the mouth piece of the trumpet to her lips to blow a blast in her father's honour.--"Are you crazy, Kopp?"

asked his wife.--"Let me alone, Henny. We must keep up our dignity.

Show me your friends and I'll tell you who you are. If I vote with the n.o.bles and ....."--"I should have thought that you'd have had enough snubbing from the n.o.bles already."--"Henny," remonstrated Pomuchelskopp, but was stopped by Sally who was seated at the window, exclaiming: "Law! Here's Mr. von Rambow coming across the court."--"Henny," said Pomuchelskopp again, turning his expressive eyes reproachfully on his wife, "you see that a n.o.bleman is coming to my house! But now, clear out of this, will you," he went on, driving his younger olive branches out at the door. "Mally take away the coffee things. Sally bring a duster and be quick about it. And Henny go and put on another gown."--"What!" said his wife. "Is the young man coming to my house, or am I going to his? As he thinks fit to come here, he may just take me as he finds me."--"Henny," entreated Pomuchelskopp, "let me implore you to do as I ask, you'll spoil the whole visit if you appear in that old black dress."--"Are you a fool, Muchel?" she asked without moving. "Do you think that he is coming here for the sake of either of us? He's only coming because he needs our help, and so my dress is quite good enough."--Muchel begged her once more to do as he wanted, but in vain.--Mally and Sally hastened from the room to make themselves tidy, but their mother remained sitting on her chair as stiff and upright as a poker.

Alick entered and greeted the worthy couple, and it must be confessed that his politeness was as great to the lady in the old black dress as to the gentleman in the green checked trousers. He made himself so pleasant and talked so agreeably that Henny was charmed and called her husband Poking; indeed before the end of the visit, even she came to the conclusion that the old gown looked too shabby to be worn any longer.--Mally then came into the room pretending that she had forgotten something, and she was soon afterwards followed by Sally, who pretended that she had come for something. Pomuchelskopp introduced them, and the meaningless chit chat of the earlier part of the visit was changed to a learned discussion about Sally's worsted-work, which in its turn gave place to a political conversation, when Mally took up the newspaper. Philip now came in and stationed himself in the corner behind his mother; he was followed by Tony, who joined him in his retreat, and then all the little ones came in singly and surrounded their mother, till Henny looked like an old black hen with all her chickens taking refuge under her wing when a hawk is overhead. And when she took the key of the linen press out of her basket--for she felt she could do no less--and left the room, she was followed by the whole brood, for they knew that the short-bread was kept there which Henny baked twice a year, and then kept for any important occasion. It cannot be denied that these cakes were uncommonly good at first, but in course of time they contracted a slight flavour of brown soap from their proximity to the linen; but that was no drawback in the estimation of the family at Gurlitz manor, they had been accustomed to the flavour from their infancy and would quite have missed it if it had not been there. If Alick had not been so deeply engaged talking to Pomuchelskopp he could not have helped hearing the begging and coaxing going on outside.--"Do give me some, mother"--"And me too, mother."--But Pomuchelskopp had taken him in hand and was determined to give his visitor a good impression of himself and his family. "Look here, Mr.

von Rambow," he said, "you will find that ours is an extremely quiet family; I myself am a quiet man, and my wife," here he glanced round the room to make sure that his Henny was well out of hearing, "is also quiet, and so we have brought up our daughters and our other children very quietly. We make no show, and only care to live a simple family life. We don't desire to make many acquaintances, for I am thankful to say we are sufficient to ourselves, but," he added putting on a dignified patriarchal air, "everyone of us has some duty to perform; each of us has some necessary work which he or she _must_--I say _must_ carry out after having once undertaken to perform it, and I am convinced that the blessing of G.o.d rests upon such work when it is conscientiously done."--Alick replied politely that these sentiments did him honour.--"Yes," said Pomuchelskopp taking Phil by his coat collar and drawing him forward with his mouth ninety eight per cent full of short bread and two per cent of brown soap, "Make a bow, Phil.

Look at this little fellow, Mr. von Rambow. It's his duty to hunt for eggs, I mean for the eggs of those hens that may chance to lay out in the wood, he gets a ha'penny far every dozen he brings in, and the money is put in a savings-box for him. Phil, my boy, tell us how much you've made already by egg hunting?"--"One pound, four, and seven pence," answered Philip.--"You see then, my dear boy," said Pomuchelskopp patting his son on the head encouragingly, "that G.o.d's blessing always rests on the diligent. Then," he continued turning to Alick, "Tony gets so much a pound for all the old iron, nails and horse-shoes that he can find, while Polly, Harry and Steenie are allowed to sell all the apples, pears and plums--of course I only mean those that have fallen under the trees, most of them are mere trash, but still the townspeople are glad enough to buy them. So you see Mr. von Rambow that my children have each their own particular apartment"--Alick smothered a laugh at the last word, while Mally and Sally glanced to each other and then looked down and smiled at their father's mistake. Pomuchelskopp like Brasig was sometimes guilty of misp.r.o.nouncing or using a long word in the wrong place, but there was this difference between them, that Brasig used long words from sheer love of them, and although he knew that he often made absurd mistakes he did not mind that a bit, while Pomuchelskopp who did it in self-glorification, took such accidents rather ill-humouredly. He knew that he had made some ridiculous blunder when he saw his daughters laughing at him, and was much relieved by his wife coming in with the cake and wine. She had taken the opportunity of changing her dress, and now wore a light yellow silk gown and a large mob-cab.--"Henny," said Pomuchelskopp, "not that wine. When we have such distinguished visitors let us always have the best we possess."--"Say what you want then,"

replied his wife shortly. He did so, and then went on with the thread of his discourse. "Even my two eldest daughters have their own particular lines. Sally is most interested in art, such as embroidery and music; while Mally delights in reading the newspaper and in studying politics." Alick was surprised to hear that, so few young ladies cared about such things, and Mally a.s.sured him that it was quite necessary for some member of a household to know what was going on at the seat of government, and her father did not read that part of the paper. She then went on to say that just as Mr. von Rambow arrived they had been agreeing that her father ought to attend the next meeting of parliament. "Yes, Mr. von Rambow," said Muchel, "I intend to go; not because of the changes my middle cla.s.s colleagues want to bring about, I care nothing for them, and I know the difference between lords and commons perfectly. I'm only going because I wish to show those people what is the proper mode of action." Alick now enquired, for something to say, whether Mr. Pomuchelskopp had many acquaintances in the neighbourhood. "Who is there for me to know?" asked Pomuchelskopp. "Mr. Nussler at Rexow? Why he's a fool. And as for the farm-bailiff that wouldn't quite do, and there's n.o.body else in the neighbourhood."--"Then I suppose that you are only intimate with the clergyman and his family?"--"No, not even with them. The parson's conduct has been such from the very first, that I could have nothing to do with him. He has friends whom I don't like; and besides that, he has adopted the daughter of your bailiff Hawermann, and I don't wish my girls to be thrown into such society."--"I thought that she seemed to be nice," said Alick.--"Oh yes, I've no doubt she is," replied Pomuchelskopp. "I've nothing to say against the girl. You see, Mr. von Rambow, I'm a quiet man. I used to know Hawermann long ago, and I won't say he deceived me, but ..... Besides that, I didn't like the way in which the girl was thrown with young Mr. von Rambow by her father and the people at the parsonage."--"With my cousin Frank?" asked Alick.--"Yes, his name was Frank. I mean the young gentleman who learnt farming with Hawermann. I don't know him myself, for he never entered my house, and I'm just as well pleased if what people tell me is true."--"He still writes to her," said Henny.--"No, mother," said Mally, "you can't say that, his letters are always addressed to Mr.

Behrens. Our postman carries the parsonage letters too," she added, addressing Alick.--"It's all the same," said Henny, "which he writes to."--"This is the first time I've heard of it," said Alick looking down at the floor.--"Oh," said Pomuchelskopp, "the whole country-side knows it. She ran after him wherever he went, under pretext of visiting her father and your sisters, and if ever anything came between them Hawermann and the people at the parsonage made it all right again."--"No, father," cried Sally, "old Brasig was the greatest match-maker amongst them, and he always carried their letters to each other."--"Who is this Brasig?" asked Alick who was now very angry.--"He's a sly rogue," cried Henny.--"Yes, that's just what he is," said Pomuchelskopp disdainfully. "He has a small pension from Count .... and has nothing earthly to do but to go about making mischief. Besides that he's ....."--"No, father," interrupted Mally, "I'll tell. The old man is a democrat, Mr. von Rambow; an out and out de-mo-crat."--"You're right there," said Pomuchelskopp, interrupting Mally in his turn, "and I shouldn't be at all surprised if the scoundrel were also an incendiary."

Alick remembered that he had had that good-for-nothing fellow to dine with him at his own table, and that by Hawermann's fault. The conversation had irritated him so much, that he, not finding the shortbread a sufficient inducement to prolong his visit, took leave, and was accompanied by Pomuchelskopp as far as the gate of the court-yard. "Is what you have told me about my cousin quite true?"

asked Alick as they crossed the yard.--"Mr. von Rambow," said Pomuchelskopp, "I'm a quiet old man, and people at my age don't trouble themselves about love stories. I only repeated what others had told me."--"Ah well, I suppose that it's a mere pa.s.sing caprice; a case of 'out of sight, out of mind.'"--"No, I don't think so," replied Pomuchelskopp thoughtfully. "If I know Hawermann at all, he's a sly dog, and too wide awake to his own interest to let such a chance slip out of his fingers. Your cousin has fallen into his toils."--"The boy has only lost his head," said Alick, "and he'll soon learn more sense.

Good-bye, Mr. Pomuchelskopp. Thank you for telling me about my cousin.

I hope soon to have the pleasure of seeing you at my house. Good-bye,"

and with that he turned down the road to the right--"I beg your pardon," cried Pomuchelskopp. "You're going the wrong way. The Pumpelhagen road is to the left."--"I know," said Alick, "but I'm going to the parsonage to fetch my wife. Goodbye."

"Ah!" said Pomuchelskopp as he went back to the house. "This is charming, de-lightful! And why shouldn't she be there? It's quite proper for Mr. von Rambow to come to my house, but I'm not good enough for his wife to know! Children," he exclaimed as he entered the family sitting-room, "Mrs. von Rambow is at the parsonage. We ar'n't grand enough for her ladys.h.i.+p I suppose!"--"Well, Poking," said his wife, "I congratulate you upon having been again taken in by an aristocrat."--"Is it possible!" cried Sally.--"It's an undoubted fact,"

said her father, giving Tony and Phil the remains of the short bread, and then added: "Now be off, you young rascals." After that he threw himself into the sofa corner and slashed at the flies, while his wife hovered about him, and made satirical remarks about grand acquaintances, beggars and aristocrats: "Sally," she said at last, "take that bottle of wine back to the cellar, there's enough of it remaining for your father to treat another of his grand friends on some future occasion."--After a long silence she exclaimed: "Come to the window, father. Look there. Your grand friend and his b.u.t.terfly wife are pa.s.sing, and do you see who they've got with them. Your incendiary old Brasig."

It was quite true. Brasig was walking along the Pumpelhagen road with the Rambows, and was so pleased with the young lady's gentle kindness, that he took no notice of Alick's short answers. He had met Mrs. von Rambow at the parsonage and thought her even prettier and nicer than on the memorable occasion of the dinner-party.

Well might he like and admire her; well might anybody like her who had seen her in the parsonage that day. When she entered the parlour she found the clergyman lying on the sofa weak and ill; he would have risen to receive her, but she would not allow him to do so. Then laying both hands on little Mrs. Behrens' shoulders she entreated the good old lady to help her in her new life, saying that she often needed good advice.

After that she went to Brasig and shook his hand warmly like an old friend.--When Louisa came in shortly afterwards, she greeted her also like an old friend, and could not help looking at her again and again, as if there were always something new to be read in her face, and as she did so she grew thoughtful like a person reading a beautiful book, who cannot turn to a new page before thoroughly understanding the preceding ones.

Mrs. von Rambow found that there were many pages of the book of human life for her to study in that quiet room. Mr. Behrens, with his long experience and loving sympathy for all men; Mrs. Behrens with her great housekeeping talents, her happy nature and true-heartedness; Louisa with her modesty and thoughtfulness, and her pleasure in making acquaintance with Mrs. von Rambow, who bore the same name as that she used to know so well, and which was so dear to her; and then there was Brasig, who might be looked upon as forming a sort of commentary upon the others to make their meaning clearer, and Mrs. von Rambow read the commentary with as much pleasure as we young rogues used to do the a.s.s'

Bridge ad modum Minellii in Cornelius Nepos. There was so much innocent mirth and affectionate sympathy amongst these people that Mrs. von Rambow felt almost as gay as if she were making one of a party of happy children dancing "kringel-kranz," with Louisa for their queen, round the bole of a shady old tree.

Alick at last joined the happy circle at the parsonage, but what he had just heard had made him too cross to be able to enter into the spirit of what was going on. He disliked the thought of his wife being in such company as he now found her, and was still more put out when Brasig said: "How d'ye do, Lieutenant von Rambow." Instead of answering, he turned to the clergyman, and addressed a few words to him about his health and the weather, but his manner was so cold that his warm-hearted wife could not bear to see it, and hastily rose to take leave, that the friendliness with which she had been received might not be utterly chilled, and that Alick's manner might have no worse effect than a slight shower of hail on a summer-day.

They took their departure, but uncle Brasig went with them. Mr. von Rambow's coldness made no impression on him, for he knew that he had done nothing to deserve it; his conscience was clear of offence.

Another reason for his going with them was that he had a high opinion of his powers of conversation being able to charm any man out of a bad temper, and bring him back to a more cheerful view of life. He therefore walked on beside the young squire, and talked to him about this and that, but all his efforts were unavailing to change the short cold answers he received into more friendly ones. When Mr. von Rambow stopped at the end of the road leading to the church, and asked him which way he was going, it suddenly flashed upon the old man that his companion thought he wanted to thrust himself upon him.--"This takes me by surprise, Sir," he said, standing still in his turn. "Are you ashamed of walking with me in the public road? Well, let me a.s.sure you that it wasn't for your sake that I came with you, but entirely out of respect, for your wife, she has been so very kind to me. I won't incommodate you any further," then making a deep bow to Mrs. von Rambow, he went across the rape-stubble to where Hawermann was busy superintending the stacking of the rape-straw.

"Why were you so unkind to that good-natured old man, Alick," asked Frida.--"That good-natured old man, as you call him, is nothing better than a mischievous fellow and a match-maker."--"Do you really think so?

And do you think that our Hawermann would be so fond of him if he were?"--"Why not, when he finds him useful?"--Frida looked at him anxiously: "What's the matter with you, Alick? You used to be so kind to every one, and so trustful. What can have set you against these two people? People who have always been friendly and honest in all their dealings with you."--"Friendly!--Well, why not? It's their interest to be so, I'm the owner of the estate. But honest?--Time will show. From all that I hear honesty isn't quite the term _I_ should use."--"What have you heard? And from whom did you hear it?" cried Frida quickly.

"Tell me, Alick. I am your wife."--"I've heard a good many things,"

answered Alick with a sneer. "I've heard that 'our' Hawermann, as you call him, was once bankrupt, and the best that I've heard is that he made use of the influence he had acquired as teacher to bring about a sort of engagement between my cousin Frank and his daughter. In this he was a.s.sisted by Mr. and Mrs. Behrens, and that old match-maker, Brasig.

And," he continued angrily, "the young fool has allowed himself to be caught in their snares."--Mrs. von Rambow felt her spirit rise against such a base libel. She knew how impossible it was for that innocent child Louisa Hawermann to have lent herself to such a scheme, and more than that, she resented the scandalous story as an insult to womanhood.

Her eyes flashed, as laying her hand on her husband's arm, She made him stand still, and said: "You've been in very bad company, and have allowed yourself to be influenced by unworthy people." Then letting her hands fall to her side she went on sadly: "Oh, Alick, Alick, you are so good and true, how can you let such mean whispers affect your honest judgment?"--Alick was astonished at the zeal with which his wife took up the case, and would willingly have withdrawn what he had said, but he _had_ said it, and he would have despised himself if he had not stuck to his opinion, so he asked: "What is the matter, Frida? It is a fact that my foolish cousin has got his name mixed up with that of the girl. It's the common talk of the neighbourhood."--"If you will change your way of putting it. If you will say that your cousin has fallen in love with the girl, I will believe it. I hardly know him, but I shall like him all the better if it is so."--"What? Do you think that my cousin who is rich and independent ought to marry my bailiff's daughter?"--"The advantage of being rich and independent is that a man is free to choose as he likes, and your cousin has not chosen unworthily."--"Then you think that it would be a pleasant thing for me to be connected by marriage with my farm-bailiff! And let the plotters win the day! No, I'll never consent to bear that silently."--"Why,"

cried Frida, "don't you see that the lie and calumny are in that part of your story. How can you believe such a wretched piece of scandal?

How can you believe--putting aside the lovely innocent face of the girl--such ill of that unsophisticated old man, that loving father whose only joy is in his daughter's happiness; how can you think such wickedness possible in that dignified old clergyman or his true-hearted wife; or even in the good man who has just left us deeply wounded by your harshness to him, and whose uprightness and honesty are easily seen in spite of his mistaken use of long words? Do you really think it possible that these good people would make a mere speculation of their darling's beauty?"--"But," said Alick, "they only want to make her happy."--"Oh," answered Frida gravely and sadly, "then you and I have very different notions of happiness. n.o.body can be made happy by such means."--"I'm not talking of my _own_ idea of happiness," said Alick, struck by her reproachful tone. "I only mean what these kind of people think happiness."--"Don't deceive yourself, Alick. For G.o.d's sake, don't deceive yourself. A high worldly station may enable one to take a large view of human affairs, but believe me, in a less exalted position love influences the lives of men in a way that it unfortunately can seldom do those of higher rank. In short, we often have to do without it," she said slowly, and wiping a tear from her eyes as she thought of her motherless childhood pa.s.sed in the society of a father whose life was spent in a hard struggle to keep up his position, and who found an unfailing comfort in every distress--in field-sports.

Then they went home. Alick in the goodness of his heart was kind and affectionate to his wife, and she took his kindness and affection as they were meant; thus peace was ratified between them--outwardly at least--for they each held to their own opinion.

Brasig meanwhile made his way to where Hawermann was standing by the rape-stacks. He was angry, very angry. Such a thing had never happened to him before, except that once when Pomuchelskopp was rude to him, and he felt that the only way to get rid of his wrath was to expend a little of it on some labourer who might deserve it from his stupidity.--"Good-day, Charles," he said, pa.s.sing Hawermann with his head in the air, and his eyebrows raised as high as they would go. He walked round one of the stacks, and then placing himself in front of his friend, asked: "Are you trying to make a pancake?"--"Don't talk of it," said Hawermann, looking very much put out, "I've been angry enough about it as it is. I sent Triddelfitz to look after the stacking of the rape yesterday, and told him to make the stacks twenty feet broad and high in proportion, and he has only made them half what I told him.

When I came out here I found the mischief done, and I hav'n't time to undo it all. It must just remain as it is--fortunately it's only straw, so that it won't hurt much if it should happen to rain before I can get it into the yard, but I hate to see such unworkmanlike stacks in one of my fields."--"Yes, Charles, and your neighbour Pomuchelskopp won't fail to draw attention to it."--"Let him! But what Triddelfitz means by it I can't make out. He has been neither to hold nor to bind since Mr.

von Rambow promised him the horse."--"Have you spoken to him seriously?"--"What's the good of it? He can think of nothing but horses. He doesn't want my advice about that even, for Mr. von Rambow advised him to get an English mare, and has promised to buy all the foals. He won't listen to a word I say, and I'm sure he'll end by buying that wretched screw."--"Doesn't he want to get Augustus Prebberow's sorrel-mare Whalebone?"--"Yes, that's the very one he has set his heart on."--"Capital!" cried Brasig. "Splendid! He'll ride about, and show himself off on that old mare when the Grand Duke makes his triump'ant entrance into Rahnstadt. Charles, that grey-hound of yours is a treasure."--"Yes," answered Hawermann drily, and glancing at his stacks, "you're about right there."--"Oh, I don't mean as a farmer, but as an amusing fellow, especially when he and your young squire get together."--"Brasig," said Hawermann gravely, "don't speak in that way of my master before the labourers."--"Quite right, Charles, I oughtn't to have done so, but come away with me."--When they were, out of hearing of the work-people Brasig stood still, and said slowly and emphatically: "Charles, that _young gentleman_ was ashamed to be seen walking with me on the public road. What do you say to that? He gave me to understand as much in the presence of his lovely wife."--He then told all that had happened. Hawermann tried to talk him into a better humour, but did not quite succeed. Brasig at last exclaimed with indignant emphasis: "It was his own folly that made him act as he did, but it was Samuel Pomuchelskopp who roused him to do it. He had just been calling at Gurlitz manor. And you may say what you like, Charles, your master's a fool, and when once you've been sent about your business, I'll amuse myself by coming over here, and standing on the top of this hill that I may see what a mess your master and your grey-hound make of the farm."--"Well," said Hawermann, "if you want to see something queer you needn't wait till then. Just look over there!"

He pointed as he spoke over the thorn-bush behind which they happened to be standing, and down the road. Brasig did as he was desired, and was so struck by amazement at what he saw, that he was unable to utter a word. At last he said: "Why, Charles, your grey-hound has gone crazy.

Apothecaries often go mad, and I daresay their children inherit the disease from them."--It really seemed as if Brasig was right. Fred was riding the famous sorrel-mare up the road at a foot's pace. He had taken off his hat, and was waving it violently, and shouting as loud as he could: "Hurrah! Hurrah!" and all apparently for his own edification, for he could not see the two old men behind the thorn-bush till they advanced towards him, and Hawermann asked whether he had gone mad.--"It's all a lie," said Fred.--"What's a lie?" asked Hawermann angrily.--"That the mare won't stand shouting," and with that he began to hurrah again.--"Look!" he said dismounting and tying his horse to a willow-branch, and then going to a little distance he shouted "hurrah!"

once more. "You see she doesn't shy a bit. And you," turning to Brasig who looked as if he were on the point of bursting out laughing, "told me she couldn't stand it, and you see it isn't true."--"I see," said Brasig, shaking with laughter, "but still it's quite true. I said what I said, and it was this, that she couldn't _hear_ it, and neither she can, for the creature's as deaf as a post, and has been so for all the five years that I've known her."--On hearing this Fred Triddelfitz, clever, quick-witted Fred Triddelfitz stood staring at the old man with the most sheepish expression in the world. "But," he stammered out at last, "Augustus Prebberow is a great friend of mine, and he never told me that"--"Ah," said Brasig, "you'll soon find out that friends.h.i.+p counts for less than nothing in horse-dealing."--"Never mind, Triddelfitz," said Hawermann kindly, for he was sorry for the lad. "The mare may suit you very well though she's deaf; it's better to be deaf than tricky."--"Oh," said Fred, his spirits rising. "I know what to do.

Look now--yes, that's spavin she has got, but still she's a thoroughbred. She's in foal by Hector. Mr. von Rambow has promised to buy all the foals, and when I've sold three or four ...."--"You'll buy a large estate," interrupted Brasig. "We all know that. Now ride home quietly, and take care that you don't break your milk-jug on the way like that girl. You remember it Charles. In Gellert's Fables."

Fred rode off.--"The rascally grey-hound!" said Brasig.--"I don't know why," said Hawermann, "but I can't help liking the lad. He is so sweet-tempered."--"That's because he's young, Charles."--"Perhaps so,"

answered Hawermann thoughtfully, "but just look at him, riding away on the deaf old mare as happy as a king."

CHAPTER VIII.

And Fred was happy; he was the happiest creature at Pumpelhagen, for there was not much of that blessing to be found there, and the realities of life were discovered to be very different from what everybody had expected. Hawermann saw more distinctly every day that his old peaceful life was gone for ever, for the young squire was so full of plans he did not know how to execute, that he left but little time for the necessary work of the farm, which had to be hurried over anyhow. The labourers were kept in such a bustle that they got confused and made mistakes, and then when anything went wrong Hawermann had to bear the blame.--Neither was Mr. von Rambow happy, his debts weighed upon him and also the fact of their concealment from his wife. He was troubled by the letters he received from David and Slus'uhr, with whom he had made it a condition of his doing business with them, that they should never show their faces at Pumpelhagen, and they were only too glad to consent to this arrangement, for the more the affair was involved in secrecy, the better chance they had of fleecing him. When they got him into their clutches at Rahnstadt for a consultation, they could turn the screw on him to better purpose than at Pumpelhagen, where they had to treat him with more deference, as he was in his own house. But Alick had another reason besides this for his unhappiness.

He wanted to be master, but had not the power, for before a man takes the reins of government into his own hands he ought to have a _practical_ knowledge of the work to be done, not merely a _theoretical_ knowledge such as he had, and which made him imagine he knew everything much better than anyone else. "The great point is to be able to do a thing yourself," old Flegel the carpenter used to say, and he was right. The most unfortunate of men is the one who undertakes to do what he knows nothing about.--And Frida?--She was not happy either; she saw that her husband did not confide in her; that they held opposite opinions on many important subjects; that he was totally ignorant of the work to which he was now to devote his life; that he threw the blame of his own mistakes on other people's shoulders, and more than that, she felt--what was harder than aught else for a clever woman to bear--that he made himself ridiculous. She was convinced that Pomuchelskopp, who, much to her distress, often came over to Pumpelhagen, must have other reasons for doing so than mere neighbourly civility, and that he must often laugh in his sleeve at the crude, ill-considered opinions propounded by her husband.--She made up her mind to try and discover the motive for his visits; but that determination did not tend to increase her happiness.

Fred Triddelfitz was the happiest creature in all Pumpelhagen, and if we except the twins, he might be called the happiest in the whole parish. But the twins must be excepted, for a girl who is engaged to a man she loves, is much happier than anyone else, even than her lover.

G.o.dfrey had taken a situation as tutor in the family of a good tempered enterprising landowner of the middle-cla.s.s, whose sons he taught and flogged with cheerful conscientiousness. Rudolph was earning farming from Hilgendorf at Little-Tetzleben, where he had to superintend the spreading of manure over the fields till they were covered as though with a soft blanket, and on going to bed at night he used to whistle or sing merrily, but as he was very tired he always fell asleep before he had finished the first verse.--Happy as these two undoubtedly were, their happiness was not to be compared with that of the little twins who sat side by side sewing busily at their trousseaux, or making jokes with their father and mother, or telling Louisa all about it, or showing bits of their letters. No, no. Even Fred's joy in the possession of his new horse was not to be named in the same day with it.