Seed-time and Harvest Part 10

Frau Pomuchelskopp stood by, as stiff and stately as if she had that morning been plated with iron, and Malchen and Salchen, in their gay silk dresses, stared at the three little maidens in their clean cotton garments, like a goldfinch at a hedge-sparrow.

The Frau Pastorin was the most cordial person in the world, to her friends; but when she met strangers, and her Pastor was not present to speak for himself, she took his dignity also upon her shoulders. She drew herself up to her full height, looking as round and full as a goose on the spit, and with every word that she spoke the cap ribbons under her little double chin wagged back and forth with a dignified air, as if they would say, "n.o.body shall take precedence of me!"

"The honor is quite on our side," said she. "Unfortunately my Pastor is not at home. Won't you sit down?" and with that she seated the two old Pomuchelskopps on the sofa, under the picture-gallery.

Meanwhile, as the older people were discussing indifferent topics with an appearance of interest, as the custom is, and now one and now another advancing opinions to which the rest could not a.s.sent, Louise went, in a friendly way, as was proper, to the two young ladies, and shook hands with them, and the little twins followed her example, as was also proper.

Now Malchen and Salchen were just eighteen and nineteen years old. They were not handsome; Salchen had a gray, pimpled complexion, and Malchen, though she was not to blame for it, bore too striking a resemblance to her father. But they were _educated_--save the mark! and had recently attended the Whitsuntide fair and Trinity ball, at Rostock, so there was really a great difference between them and the little girls, and since they were not very kindly disposed, they looked rather coldly on the little maidens.

These, however, either did not notice it, or took it as a matter of course that their advances should be received with coolness, and Louise said with great admiration to Malchen, "Ah, what a beautiful dress you have on!"

Even an educated young lady might be pleased at that, and Malchen became a little more friendly, as she said, "It is only an old one; my new one cost, with the tr.i.m.m.i.n.g and dress-making, all of ten dollars more."

"Papa gave them to us for the Trinity ball. Ah, how we danced there!"

added Salchen.

Now Louise had heard in sermons about Sundays before and after Trinity, but of a Trinity ball she knew nothing; in fact she had no definite conception of a ball itself, for though the Frau Pastorin in her youth had taken pleasure like other people, and had occasionally set foot in a ball-room, yet, out of consideration for her present dignified position, she always answered Louise's questions what a ball was like,--"Mere frivolity!"

As for Lining and Mining they would have known nothing of b.a.l.l.s, for though their mother danced in her younger days, it was merely at harvest feasts, and young Jochen had indeed once gone to a ball, but upon reaching the door of the saloon he was so frightened that he beat a retreat,--but Uncle Brasig's descriptions had given the children a confused idea of many white dresses with green and red ribbons, of violins and clarionettes, of waltzes and quadrilles, and many, many gla.s.ses of punch. And as Uncle Brasig had described it all, he had also given an ill.u.s.tration, with his short legs, of the sliding step, and the hop step, so that they laughed prodigiously; but what a "ball,"

such a ball as the last governess had taken away from Mining, had to do with it all, they had never comprehended. So Mining asked quite innocently, "But, if you dance, how do you play with a ball?"

Mining was a thoughtless little girl, and she should not have asked such a question; but, considering her youth and inexperience, the Misses Pomuchelskopp need not have laughed quite so loud as they did.

"Oh dear!" cried Salchen, "that is too stupid!"

"Yes, good gracious! so very countrified!" said Malchen, and drew herself up in a stately att.i.tude, as if she had lived under the shadow of St. Peter's tower in Rostock from her babyhood, and the first burgomeister of the city had been her next door neighbor.

Poor little Mining turned as red as a rose, for she felt that she must have made a great blunder, and Louise grew red also, but it was from anger. "Why do you laugh?" she cried hastily, "why do you laugh because we know nothing about b.a.l.l.s?"

"See, see! How excited!" laughed Malchen. "My dear child----"

She went no further in her wise speech, being interrupted by hasty words from the group on the sofa.

"Frau Pastorin, I say it is wrong; I am the owner of Gurlitz, and if the Pastor's field was to be rented----"

"It was my Pastor's doing, and the Kammerrath is an old friend, and one of our paris.h.i.+oners, and the field joins his land as well as it does yours, and Inspector Habermann----"

"Is an old cheat," interrupted Pomuchelskopp.

"He has already done us an injury," added his wife.

"What?" cried the little Frau Pastorin, "what?"

But her dear old heart thought in a minute of little Louise, and she overcame her anger, and began to wink and blink. It was too late; the child had heard her father's name, had heard the slander, and stood now before the arrogant man, and the cold, hard woman.

"What is my father? What has my father done?"

Her eyes shot fiery glances at the two who had spoken evil of her father, and the young frame which up to this time had known constant peace and joy, quivered with pa.s.sion.

People tell us that sometimes the fair, still, green earth trembles, and fire and flame burst forth, and showers of gray ashes bury the dwellings of men, and the temples of G.o.d. It seemed to her that a beautiful temple, in which she had often wors.h.i.+pped, had been buried under gray ashes, and her grief broke forth in streaming tears, as her good foster-mother put her arms around her, and led her from the room.

Muchel looked at his Klucking, and Klucking looked at her Muchel; they had got themselves into trouble. It was quite another thing from having one of his laborer's wives come to him, in tears, and a pitiful tale of sorrow and distress--he knew what to do in such cases; but here he had no occasion for reproaches or advice, and, as he glanced about him in his confusion, and saw upon the wall the hands of Christ stretched out in blessing, it seemed to him that the flas.h.i.+ng eyes of Louise had turned appealingly toward them, and he remembered how Christ had said, "Suffer little children to come unto me, for of such is the kingdom of Heaven." He did not feel exactly comfortable.

His brave Klucking also, was quite disturbed. She had heard her own children screaming many a time under her vigorous discipline, but this was a different matter; Malchen and Salchen had often shot fire from their eyes, and stamped their feet, but this was a different matter.

She recovered herself soon, however, and said,--

"Kopp, don't make such a stupid face! What did she say about her father? Is Habermann her father?"

"Yes," answered Mining and Lining, through their tears, "that is Louise Habermann." And they followed their little friend into the next room, to cry with her; for though they did not know how deeply her heart was wounded, they reckoned themselves one with her, in joy and sorrow.

"I did not know that," said Pomuchelskopp; the very words he had used years before, when Habermann's wife lay in her coffin.

"A foolish girl!" said his Hauhning. "Malchen and Salchen, come, we will go; the Pastor's wife won't come back again."

And so they went off, like the year 1822, of which Hauhning represents the 1, on account of her leanness, and because she would always be number 1, Pomuchelskopp the 8, on account of his size and rotundity, and the two daughters the two figure 2's,--for such a 2 always looks to me like a goose swimming on the water.

As they stepped out of the door, the Pastor was just returning from his duties at Warnitz, and had brought Uncle Brasig home with him. He knew by their appearance that they had been making a ceremonious visit, and sprung hastily from the carriage, that he might be in time for a part of it.

"Ah, good day! How do you do? But," he added in surprise, "where is my wife?"

"She went off and left us," said Frau Pomuchelskopp, stiffly.

"Eh, there must be some mistake! Do come in again, I shall be back directly," and he ran into the house.

Meanwhile Brasig had gone up to his old comrade Pomuchelskopp: "Good day, Zamel, how are you?"

"Thank you, Herr Inspector, very well," was the reply.

Brasig elevated his eyebrows, looked him square in the face, and whistled square in his face. If Frau Pomuchelskopp wished to make him a courtesy, she might do so, but only to his back, for he turned about and went into the house.

"Come, Kopp," said she sharply, and the procession moved off.

As the pastor entered the house, he found n.o.body there; he went through into the garden, and called, and it was not long before he saw the little twins sitting under a raspberry hedge, with red eyes, and they pointed to the birch-tree arbor, with anxious looks, as if to say he must go there if he would find out what the trouble was. He went to the arbor, and there sat his Regina, with the child in her lap, trying to comfort her. When she saw her Pastor, she put the child gently down on the bench, drew him out of the arbor, and told him the matter.

Pastor Behrens listened in silence; but as his wife repeated the wicked word that the Herr Landlord had used, there flashed over his intelligent, quiet face a look of bitter anger, and then his clear eyes shone with the deepest compa.s.sion. He said to his wife that she might go in, and he would speak to the child. So it had come at last! his lovely flower had been pierced by a poisonous worm; the pitiless world had grasped this soft, pure heart with its hard, coa.r.s.e hand, and the finger-marks could never be effaced; now it had entered upon the great, never-ending struggle, which is fought out here on earth until hearts cease to beat. It must come, yes, it must come, he knew that well enough; but he knew also that the greatest art of one who would train a human soul lies in keeping away, as long as possible, the hard hand from the tender heart, until that also had become harder, and then, if the evil grip should be even worse, the black fingers will not leave such deep marks upon the heart, until then innocent of the never-ending struggle. He went into the arbor. Thou art still happy, Louise; well is it for one who in such an hour is blessed with a faithful friend!

Frau Pastorin, meanwhile, went into the parlor, and found Brasig.

Brasig, instead of sitting down on the comfortable sofa, under the picture-gallery, or at least in a reasonable chair, had seated himself on a table, and was working like a linen-weaver, in his excitement over Pomuchelskopp's ceremonious behavior. "There you see me, there you have me!" he cried angrily. "The Jesuit!" As the Frau Pastorin came in, he sprang from his table, and cried,--

"Frau Pastorin, what should you say of anybody you had known forty years, and you meet him, and you speak to him, and he calls you "Sie?"[1]

"Ah, Brasig----"

"That is what Pomuchelskopp has done to me."

"Let the man alone! He has done worse mischief here;" and she related what had happened.

Brasig was angry, exceedingly angry, over the injury which he had received, but when he heard this he was angry beyond measure; he stormed up and down the room, and made use of language for which the Frau Pastorin would have reproved him severely, had she not been very angry herself; at last he thrust himself into the sofa corner, and sat, without saying a word, looking straight before him.