Seed-time and Harvest Part 47

"Ah, so you have always said, and now we have this,--now we have this!

My foolish credulity had cost me two thousand thalers. And if you knew the people so well, why did you send this particular man?"

Habermann looked at him in astonishment. "As it seems," said he, "you wish to put the blame upon me; but if there has been a fault in the matter, I do not take it upon myself. It is true," he added hastily, and his face flushed with anger, "I sent this man; but only because you had employed him constantly as a messenger, in carrying money; he has already been sent by you more than ten times to Gurlitz, and the Herr Notary, here, can testify how often he has been to him on such errands."

Frida looked hastily over to Slusuhr, upon these words, and the Herr Notary had turned his eyes towards her; they said nothing, but, different as their thoughts were, it seemed as if each had read the very soul of the other. Frida read, in the secret, malicious joy in the notary's eyes, that he was the chief enemy of her happiness, and the notary read, in the dear, sensible eyes of the young wife, that she was the chief obstacle in the way of his and Pomuchelskopp's plans. Axel would have given a hasty answer to Habermann's words, but he held his peace when he saw the old man's steadfast gaze, and then Frida's questioning glance resting upon him. Slusuhr was also silent, and lay in wait; he was the only one who could see through the thorn-bush, which was growing in this garden, and now he lay behind the thorn-bush, and watched, to see if a hare would not run in his direction.

The justice and Franz were the only ones who had no suspicion of the disturbance caused by Habermann's hasty words, and they alone carried on the conversation at table. When the company rose from the table, they separated; the justice remained through the night.

All were asleep in Pumpelhagen, only two married couples were still waking; one couple was the Herr von Rambow and his wife, the other was the day-laborer, Regel and his wife. The one pair sat close together, in a warm room, and the night was so silent about them that one might well have a desire to open his heart, and find courage to speak the truth. But it was not so. Frida begged her husband earnestly to confide in her, she knew already that he was in great pecuniary embarra.s.sment; they would retrench, but the dealings with Pomuchelskopp and Slusuhr must be given up; he should talk with Habermann, he would show him the right way.

Everything went by halves with Axel, he did not exactly lie, but neither did he tell the truth. That he was in temporary embarra.s.sment, he would not deny; when a man had two thousand thalers stolen, he might well be embarra.s.sed; he had exchanged nothing as yet, had also been able to sell nothing,--that he had sold a fine crop of wheat, in antic.i.p.ation, and got the money for it, he did not tell her. His dealings with Pomuchelskopp and Slusuhr--he said nothing about David--could do him no harm, those were old, made up stories,--he did not speak of the new loan from Pomuchelskopp,--and the people were prejudiced against him; as for Habermann,--and here he became excited for the first time,--he could not consult about money matters with his inspector, it was not suitable for him, as master. Axel did not exactly tell falsehoods, and when he put his arm around her, and said that it would all come right again, he said what at the moment he believed to be the truth. She left him with a heavy heart.

The other pair were not sitting in a warm room; the laborer lay in the cold cellar, and his wife crouched on her knees outside, before the cellar-window, in the fine, cold November rain; they were not close together, an iron grating divided them. "Jochen," whispered she, through the broken window-panes, "tell the truth."

"They took it from me," was the reply.

"Jochen, who?"

"Eh, do I know?" said he, and it was the truth; he did not know who the woman was who had taken the black packet, in broad daylight, and on the public road, out of his waistcoat pocket, as he, not yet recovered from the intoxication of yesterday, and having just taken a couple of gla.s.ses on an empty stomach, was tumbling along towards Gallin. He did not lie, but he could not tell the truth; how could he confess that from him, a young, strong fellow, a woman had taken the two thousand thalers, on the open street? He could not do that, if it should cost him his life.

"Jochen, you are lying. If you will not tell me the truth, tell it to our old inspector."

No, to him, of all others, he could not tell the truth, for he had promised him he would not lie any more, and he had admonished him so earnestly,--he could not tell him.

"Marik, get me my chisel, and a couple of thalers in money."

"Jochen, what are you going to do?"

"I will go away."

"Jochen, Jochen! and leave me here, with the poor little ones?"

"Marik, I must go; it will never go well with me here again,"

"Jochen, tell the truth, and it will be all right."

"If you don't bring me the chisel and the money, I will take my life, this very night!"

And here, also, there was much begging and pleading and talking, as there was upstairs in the warm room, but the truth would not come out, no more here than there, it was kept back, here as there, by the shame of confessing inconsiderate and disreputable actions, and here, also, the wife left her husband with a heavy heart.

The first thing next morning came the news, setting all Pumpelhagen in an uproar, that the day-laborer, Regel, had broken out, and run away.

The justice made preparations to have him arrested again, and rode off, homewards, with the Herr Notary. Axel was in a rage,--no one knew why; but it was with himself; and because he could shove the blame upon n.o.body else, for he himself had given orders that the man should be locked up in the cellar.

After breakfast came Pomuchelskopp, to inquire about the matter, of which he had heard, as he said. Franz greeted him coldly, but so much the warmer was Axel's reception. He knew well how to talk of the matter, the laws were too easy towards these low fellows, and the burgomeister at Rahnstadt was much too good to the rascals; he told thief-stories, out of his own experience and that of his acquaintances, and finally said that he believed, like Habermann, that the fellow had not done it. "That is to say," he added, "not of his own accord, he can merely have been the tool of another, for no day-laborer would venture to steal two thousand thalers which had been entrusted to him; there must be a cleverer rogue in the background. And therefore," said he, "I advise you, Herr von Rambow, to have an eye on the people who may have a.s.sisted his flight, and especially on those who take his part."

Axel's feelings, through the loss and through his anger, were like freshly prepared soil, and whatever seed fell therein, even were it darnel and c.o.c.kles, must sprout up finely. He walked up and down the room; yes, Pomuchelskopp was right, he was a practical old fellow, who knew the world, that is to say, the agricultural world; but who could have been concerned with Regel in such a business? He knew of no one.

Who had taken Regel's part? That was Habermann, he had said expressly, from the first, that he must have lost the money. But he had been so angry with the fellow, at the first news. Well, that might all have been acting! And why had he been so anxious to have the laborer close by his room, in the chamber? Perhaps that he might have intercourse with him, perhaps that he might be better able to help him off.

For an intelligent man, these were very stupid thoughts, but the devil is a cunning fellow, he does not seek out the prudent and strong, when he wishes to sow darnel and c.o.c.kles in the fresh furrow, he takes the foolish and weak.

"What is the Herr Inspector doing with that woman?" asked Pomuchelskopp, who had stepped to the window.

"That is Regelsch," said Franz, who stood near him.

"Yes," said Axel, hastily, "what has he to do with her? I must find out."

"That is very singular," said Pomuchelskopp.

Habermann stood in the yard, with the laborer's wife, apparently persuading her to something; she resisted, but finally yielded, and came with him towards the manor house. They entered the room.

"Herr von Rambow," said Habermann, "the woman has confessed to me that she helped her husband away in the night."

"Yes, Herr," said the woman, trembling all over, "I did it, I am guilty; but I could not do otherwise, he would have taken his life else," and the tears started from her eyes, and she put her ap.r.o.n to her face.

"A pretty story!" said Axel, coldly,--and he was usually so kindhearted--"a pretty story! This seems to be a regular conspiracy!"

Franz went up to the woman, made her sit down, and inquired, "Regelsch, didn't he confess to you what he had done with the money?"

"No, young Herr, he told me nothing, and what he said was false; I know that; but he hasn't taken it."

"How came you," said Axel roughly to Habermann, "to be questioning this woman without my orders?"

Habermann was startled at this question, and still more at the tone in which it was expressed; "I believed," said he, quietly, "that it would be well to find out how and when the prisoner got away, in order to obtain some hint of his present place of concealment."

"Or perhaps to give some!" exclaimed Axel, and turned quickly about, as if he had done something which might cost him dear. The result was not quite so bad as he had reason to fear, for Habermann had not understood the meaning of his words, he heard merely the tone, but that was enough to lead him to say, with serious emphasis, "What you mean by your words, I do not know, and it is a matter of indifference to me; but the manner and tone in which you have spoken to me, last evening and this morning, are what I will not take from you. Yesterday I was silent, out of consideration for the gracious lady, but in the present company"--here he glanced at Pomuchelskopp--"I need not exercise such consideration," and with that he left the room. The laborer's wife followed him.

Axel was going after him; Franz stepped in his way: "What are you going to do, Axel? Recollect yourself! You are in fault, you have bitterly wronged the old man, as he evidently thinks."

"That was a bold move," said Pomuchelskopp, as if he were talking to himself, "that was a bold move, for an inspector," but he must be going home, he said, and called, out of the window, for his horse. He had got things started finely.

The horse was brought, Axel accompanied his Herr Neighbor out of the door; Franz remained in the room. "Certainly a very good man, your Herr Cousin," said Pomuchelskopp, "but he does not know the world yet, does not know yet what is proper for the master, and what for the servant."

With that, he rode off. Axel came back into the parlor, and threw the cap, which he wore because the morning was cold, into the sofa corner, exclaiming, "Infamous cheats! The devil take the whole concern, if one can no longer rely upon anybody!"

"Axel," said Franz, going up to him kindly, "you do your people great wrong, you do yourself wrong, dear brother, if you cherish such an unjust hatred in your benevolent heart."

"Unjust? What? Two thousand thalers have been stolen----"

"They are lost, Axel, through the inconsiderate fault of a day-laborer."

"Oh, what, _lost_!" exclaimed Axel, turning away, "you come with the same story as my Herr Inspector!"

"Axel, all intelligent people are of this opinion, the burgomeister himself said--"

"Don't talk to me of that old nightcap! I should have conducted the examination myself, then we should have come to quite a different conclusion, or if I had only got hold of the woman first, this morning, her story would have been quite another thing; but so? Oh, it is all a contrived plot!"

"Listen to me, Axel, you have made that allusion once before," cried Franz sharply and decidedly; "fortunately, it was not understood; now you make it for the second time, and I, for my part, must understand."

"Well, then you may understand that it is not made without sufficient grounds."