Читать книгу An Old Story of My Farming Days (Vol. 1-3) - Fritz Reuter - Страница 14

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Three days later Alick arrived, too late to see his father, but not too late to pay him the last honours. The postilion blew the usual cheery blast on his horn as they drove into the court-yard, and three pale women dressed in black at once appeared in the doorway of the manor-house.--What is our grief to the rest of the world?--The young Squire soon got to understand his real situation, for the full weight of all the disagreeables of his position, whether caused by his own fault or not fell upon him at once: the visitation of God, his own ignorance and folly, the poverty of his sisters and his powerlessness to help them, and the memory of his father's love and kindness which had never failed in good or evil days. These things all weighed upon him. It was his nature to feel a sort of nervous irritation when things went ill with him, even when matters were not so grave as they now were. He sighed and bemoaned himself, and asked again and again why this or that was the case, and when he heard from Frank that his father's last words had been spoken in private to Hawermann, he called the old bailiff aside and questioned him as to what had passed between them. Hawermann told him the whole truth, making him understand that his father's last trouble had been uneasiness about his future, and whether he would be able by good management of his estate to keep himself and his sisters.

Yes, of course he would do that! He swore to himself that he would do it when a short time afterwards he was alone in the garden; he would double his profits, he would live quietly, would do without society, and would not join in the extravagant amusements of his brother officers. He could do that easily, quite easily, but he could not leave the army as Hawermann proposed, and go somewhere to learn farming thoroughly; no, that was impossible, he was too old for that, and then too it would be derogatory to his position as an officer, and besides that, it was unnecessary. When he came to live at home he would soon get into the way of it all, and meanwhile he would live economically, would pay his debts, and would study the agricultural works his old father had had so much at heart.

Thus it is that people deceive themselves, often even at the gravest and most important time in their lives.

The funeral took place on the following day. No invitations were given, but the Squire had been so much loved and respected that a number of the neighbours attended of their own free will. Bräsig's master, the Count, came amongst others, and showed by his manner that he thought it a great honour to be allowed to be present. Bräsig was there also, he stood near the coffin, and when everyone else cast down their eyes, he raised his, and when Hawermann passed near him, he caught him by the coat and whispered: "Ah, Charles, what is human life?" He said no more, but Joseph Nüssler who was standing beside him, muttered: "What can anyone do now?"--Round about them were the villagers, all the Pegels and Degels, and Päsels and Däsels were there, and when Mr. Behrens came in with the youngest daughter by his side, and standing by the coffin gave a short address which touched the hearts even of the strangers present, many tears were shed by old eyes for the kind master who was gone. They were tears of gratitude to the old Squire, and of fear lest the young Squire might not resemble his father.

When the address was finished the procession moved off to the church-yard. The coffin was placed in a carriage, and Daniel Sadenwater took his seat beside it, and sat there as stiff and motionless, even to the calm serenity of his face, as if he had all his life been a monument at the head of his master's grave. Then came the carriage containing the young Squire and his three sisters, then the Count's carriage, then the clergyman and Frank who tried to persuade Hawermann to go with them, but he refused, saying that he wished to accompany the labourers, then several more carriages, then Joseph Nüssler, and lastly Hawermann on foot with Bräsig and the villagers.

When they got to Gürlitz, Bräsig stooped towards Hawermann and whispered: "I have it now, Charles."--"What have you got, Zachariah?"--"The pension from my lord the Count. When I left you after my last visit, I rode straight to him and got it all right, padagraph by padagraph, thirty-seven pounds ten a year, ten-thousand peats, and rooms in the mill-house at Haunerwiem rent free, and besides that, I am to have a small garden for vegetables, and a bit of potato-ground."--"I'm glad to hear it, Zachariah. You'll be able to spend your old age there very comfortably."--"Yes, indeed, Charles, especially when I add to that the interest of the money I have saved. But why are we stopping?"--"They are going to take the coffin out of the carriage," said Hawermann. He then turned to the villagers, and said: "Kegel, Päsel! You'd better go now, my lads, and help to carry the coffin." He went forward with the men to make the necessary arrangements. Bräsig followed him.

Meanwhile the mourners had all got out of the carriage, and when Alick and his three sisters were standing on the road little Mrs. Behrens and Louisa Hawermann, who were both dressed in black joined them, and Mrs. Behrens with heart-felt compassion pressed the hands of the two elder ladies who had hitherto always held themselves aloof from her, because they were so much impressed with the dignity of their social position--but death and sorrow make all men equal, the great and mighty of the earth bow beneath the hand of God, for they feel that they are nothing in comparison with Him, and at such times the lowly come forward to meet them, for they know that the sympathy which they show comes from God.--To-day David Däsel had had the pleasure of shaking hands with the ladies, and they had had the comfort of seeing in his honest face and tearful eyes how truly he grieved for them.--Louisa threw her arms round her friend, Miss Fidelia, and not knowing how to express her sympathy with her, contented herself with saying: "There!" with a deep sigh, as she thrust a bunch of red and white roses into her hand, and while doing so she looked at her friend as much as to say that she intended the flowers, which were her greatest treasures to be a sign of her loving sympathy.

All eyes were turned on the child of fourteen--but was she still a child?--Are those only buds, or are the leaves really showing when the birch-tree shimmers green after a warm shower of rain in May? And as for the human soul, it puts forth its leaves when first under the influence of some strong feeling, in like manner as the birch after rain. "Who is that?" Alick asked his cousin who was staring at the child.--"Who is that young girl, Frank?" he asked again, touching his cousin's arm.--"That young girl?" asked Frank as if he could hardly take away his eyes from her, "that child, you mean? She is Mr. Hawermann's daughter."--The bailiff was also watching her, and as he did so he remembered his thoughts on the night of the Squire's death. "No," he said to himself, "surely the Lord won't do that."--Nonsense!--She was not ill. Oh God, if she had inherited her mother's constitution, his poor wife had had just such beautiful rosy cheeks.--"I say, just look!" said Bräsig rousing him out of his reverie.--"It is him! Just look, Charles, here's Samuel Pomuchelskopp! And he has got on a black swallow-tail coat!"

He was right.--Pomuchelskopp advanced and made as low a bow to the ladies as his short stature would permit, then turning to the lieutenant: "Pardon me--neighbourly friendship--extreme sympathy with you on this melancholy occasion--greatest respect for the late Mr. von Rambow--hope that there may be friendship between Pümpelhagen and Gürlitz"--In short he said whatever occurred to him on the spur of the moment, and when the young Squire had thanked him for his attention, he felt as happy as if he had bestowed all possible sympathy. He then passed the whole procession under review, and when he found that the Count was the only other landed proprietor there, he edged himself amongst the people so that he should at least come immediately behind him, and as they proceeded to the church-yard he took care to put his feet down on the foot-prints of his aristocratic acquaintance, and this, though a matter of complete indifference to the Count, was a great pleasure to him.

The funeral was over.--The mourners assembled for a short time at the parsonage. Little Mrs. Behrens was torn in two by conflicting feelings, for on the one hand she would have liked to have joined the three Miss von Rambows on the sofa, and to have comforted them; and on the other hand she wanted to move about the room, and offer the cake and wine to her guests, but as Louisa had undertaken the latter, and her pastor the former duty, she sat as despondingly in her large arm-chair as if old Mr. Metz the surgeon had been sewing the two halves together again, and she was still suffering from the pain of the operation.

Louisa had done her part, and the guests were all going away one after the other; Joseph Nüssler, who was one of the last, made a half bow to the lieutenant, and then going up to Mrs. Behrens pressed her hand as emphatically as if it had been her father who had just died, and said sorrowfully: "Ah yes, it all depends upon circumstances!"--The parson had also done his part as well as he could, but it is much easier to satisfy the hungry stomach with food and wine than to feed the hungry heart with hope and courage. He gently led the Miss von Rambows from thoughts of the past to thoughts of the future, and helped them to lay out a plan for their new life. He advised them as to what was best and wisest for them to do, and as to where they should live, so that when they went away with their brother they had gained courage to face what was before them and consult how they could best arrange their future lives so as to make the two ends meet.

But other people were also trying to shape the future after their own fashion. There were not only flowers of mourning and sorrow growing on the Counsellor's grave, but thistles, nettles and weeds of all kinds were to be found there sown by the lost happiness of Pümpelhagen, and surrounding all was a thick border of usurer's daisies.¹⁴ He who would reap that harvest must have no fear of being stung by the nettles. He who has to deal with nettles must grasp them firmly, and the man dressed in green-checked trousers, who is now standing in Gürlitz garden and looking down upon Pümpelhagen will seize them boldly, but he must wait till the right moment comes. The usurer's daisies must have time to grow and bear seed.

"That stone is well out of my way now," he thought with a smile of satisfaction, "and it was the cornerstone.--Who is there now?--The lieutenant?--We'll soon manage him, we'll give him plenty of money on mortgages, renew his bills, and in short gradually lead him on, and then we'll have it all our own way. Or, let me see? Mally is a pretty girl; or Sally; she would do as well. Mr. von Zwippelwitz said the other day when I was lending him money to buy the sorrel-colt, that Sally's eyes were like--what was it he said? fire wheels, or torches?--but it doesn't much matter, Sally will remember.--I know how to deal with people of this kind now, and there's no fear of my being taken in.--He'd only do it if his affairs were in a desperate condition; safe is safe.--Always keep a tight hold of the purse strings!--If he ever does it there'll be no end of a fuss made; but he'll never consent till he's at the last gasp.--And what else?--Hawermann.--The cunning scoundrel!--What?--This very morning.--He made no sign that he had ever seen me before!--Did he really think that I should have bowed first?--A fellow like that!--Why he is in service!--Wait a bit, once let me have the upper hand of the lieutenant and you shall see my friend!--And then Bräsig.--The rascal!--Does he mean to put another stumbling-block in my way?--Ha, ha! It's a great joke, the old fool doesn't know that it was I who had him turned out of Warnitz, that the attorney, acting under my directions, gave the Count a hint that the farming at Warnitz was disgracefully bad.--So there Bräsig, you are well out of my way now at Haunerwiem.--And the parson!--Yes, Mr. Behrens.--I was asked to go into his house to-day, and we were so civil to each other.--Oh! I know your civility!--There are the glebe-lands right before me.--What?--Deny me your glebe, and then offer me civility!--Ah! Just wait a little, and I'll get the better of you all, for I have the power to do so.--I have money."--And with that he slapped his breeches pocket with his fat hand in the joy of his heart till the gold seals on his watch-chain danced like a tailor on a meal-tub, but suddenly he became quiet, for a hard hand tapped him on the shoulder and Henny said: "Muchel, you are wanted"--"Who is it, my chuck?" asked Pomuchelskopp very gently, for his wife's presence always subdued him.--"Attorney Slus'uhr, and David the son of old Moses."--"Capital, capital!" said Pomuchelskopp throwing his arm round his Henny's waist, so that he looked exactly like a cucumber hanging to a hop-pole. "Just look at Pümpelhagen; what a fine place it is! Isn't it a shame that it's in such hands?--That both these men should have come to-day is almost like the leading of Providence, isn't it, my chick?"--"Ah, it's a toss up, Kopp!--You'd better try something more likely; but come and speak to those people. Plans such as you were talking about are too long in coming to pass to please me."--"Never be in too great a hurry, too great a hurry, chuck," said Pomuchelskopp as he followed his wife to the house.

Slus'uhr and David were standing in Pomuchelskopp's room, and David was going through a sort of martyrdom. When he set out that day he had unfortunately put his large signet-ring on his finger, and fastened his gold watch-chain across his waist-coat, and, in spite of his unwonted grandeur, when he entered the room he placed himself modestly with his back to the window, but Philipp Pomuchelskopp caught sight of the ring, and Tony of the shining chain, so they fell upon David's jewelry like a couple of ravens, and pulled at the ring and tugged at the chain, and while Tony danced upon David's splay feet, Phil who had one knee on a chair kicked his shins which were his weak point. His flat feet might be likened to arable land in March, on which the devil had sown a goodly crop of corns; and his shins had to be tenderly treated because they alone supported the weight of his body, as nature had not endowed him with calves to help them in this necessary duty.--The attorney was standing in the other window in front of Sally's chair. That young lady was busy making a sofa cushion for her father in tent-stitch. Her work represented a picture of country life. There was a long barn, and beside it a plum-tree on which were hanging blue plums as large as your fist; in front of the barn several hens and a cock with brilliant plumage were scratching the ground, beyond the fowls was a pond on which were swimming ducks and geese that were white and beautiful as swans, and in the foreground was an immense pig, fat and ready for the butcher.--Old Moses was right, the attorney was the very image of a rat, his ears were set on his head in the same way as a rat's, and he was small and thin like all the rats in Rahnstädt which had not been fattened in David's warehouse. His complexion was yellow-grey, his eyes were yellow-grey, and his hair and moustache were yellow-grey, but Mally and Sally Pomuchelskopp declared that he was very interesting--Bräsig called it, interested--he could talk so pleasantly.--It was natural that the attorney should like talking of his own cleverness better than of the folly of other people, for no business man ever likes to point out a good thing to other people till he has got all that he can out of it. And how could the attorney help it, if his cleverness was so great that it could not be hidden? Was it his fault if his cleverness grew so much that there was no room in his soul to contain both it and that stupid little virtue honesty, so that the latter had to be cast out neck and crop?--We men cannot judge such matters fairly--rats are rats--and as David himself said when rats were mentioned: They are too much for me.

This afternoon, he was telling with great glee how he had promised to provide a silly fool with a rich wife, and how he had fleeced him every time he sent him to pay his court to some impossible person till at last the stupid idiot had lost almost everything he possessed.--"How very interesting," tittered Sally as Pomuchelskopp came into the room, saying: "Ah, here you are!--Glad to see you Mr. Slus'uhr.--How d'ye do, David!"--Sally was still in fits of laughter, but as father Pomuchelskopp signed towards the door with his head, she collected her plums, fowls, ducks, geese and pig, and then saying: "Come away, Tony and Phil, father's busy," left the room with her brothers. Pomuchelskopp was always said to be "busy" when he was working amongst his crop of usurer's daisies.

"Mr. Pomuchelskopp," said David, "I've come about the skins, and I wanted to speak to you about the wool.--I had a letter. … ."--"Why, what's all this about? wool and skins!" cried the attorney. "You can arrange that afterwards.--We've come about the business you know of."--Anyone could see that the attorney was a new-fashioned man of business who did not like to waste time with a long preface, but who always came to the point at once, and Mr. Pomuchelskopp no doubt liked a man of this kind, who grasped his nettles boldly, for he went up to him, and shaking his hand warmly made him sit on the sofa beside him.--"Yes," he said, "it's a difficult matter and will take a long time to settle."--"Hm!--That depends upon how long we hold out. And difficult?--I've done harder things before now. David has bills to the amount of three hundred and seventy-five pounds. I myself sent him a hundred and twenty-five pounds last term. Will you have the bills? Here they are."--"It's a good investment," said Pomuchelskopp smoothly, and rising he paid down ready money for the papers the attorney had brought.--"Will you have mine too?" asked David.--"Yes, I'll take them," said Pomuchelskopp as benignantly as if he were bestowing a great favour on the world at large. "But gentleman," he continued, as he counted out the money, "I have one stipulation to make. You must let him think that you owe me the full amount of these bills and must have the money. Just give him a fright, you understand, for if he is left too quiet, he'll have all his wits about him and will slip out of our hands, for he can easily raise money elsewhere."--"Yes," said the attorney, "that isn't a bad plan, I could easily do that; but David has something to tell you that you ought to know."--"Yes," said David, "I have had a letter from Mark Seelig in P---- where Mr. von Rambow's regiment is stationed, and he tells me that he can see you three hundred pounds worth of the lieutenant's bills. And if you like to have them, why not buy?"--"Hm!" said Pomuchelskopp, "it's a large sum to pay at once--but--well you can buy the bills."--"I also have a stipulation to make," said David, "you must sell me the wool."--"Why not?" asked the attorney pressing his client's foot with his own. "Why shouldn't he go and look at it now?"--And Pomuchelskopp took the hint, and civilly showed David out that he might go and inspect the purchase he intended to make, and when he returned to his seat the attorney laughed and said: "We understand each other."--"What do you mean?" asked Pomuchelskopp startled.--"I have known what you were after all along, my fine fellow, and if you'll come down handsomely you may do what you like for all I care."--How frightfully sharp the rascal was! Pomuchelskopp was breathless. "Mr. Slus'uhr, I don't deny. … ."--"You needn't explain; it isn't necessary; we can understand each other quite well without that. If matters go as they ought you will be owner of Pümpelhagen before very long, and David will have his percentage, and I--well I could do the business on my own account, but the place is a little too large for me--a mill or a farm would suit me better than such an enormous estate.--It will cost you no end of money."--"That it will indeed; but never mind. It makes me miserable to see a fine property like that in such inefficient hands."

The attorney peered at him out at the corner of his eye, as much as to say: are you in earnest?--"What's the matter? Why are you looking at me?"--"Ah!" said Slus'uhr, laughing, "you amused me. Two may play at the same game. You don't really think that you can bring an estate like Pümpelhagen into the market, by buying up bills to the extent of a few hundred pounds? You'll have to do much more than that, you must get all the mortgages on the property into your own hands."--"I intend to do so," whispered Pomuchelskopp. "But how am I to get possession of the bond for a thousand and fifty pounds which old Moses holds? I'm afraid there's no hope."--"I'll have nothing to do with Moses, I can tell you; but there's David, you might get him to manage it. Still, that's nothing to what will have to be done. You ought to make up to the lieutenant, pretend to wish him well, and lend him money yourself now and then when he's in a worse fix than usual, and then you should be hard up in your turn, and be obliged to sell his bills--to me if you like--and if you do that I will touch him up a bit, and at length when the time for the crash comes--you. … "--"Yes, yes," whispered Pomuchelskopp excitedly, "I'll do it, but I should like to have him at home first, so you must give him no peace about the bills till he is forced by the state of his affairs to leave the army."--"Oh, that's easy enough to manage. If you don't want anything more difficult than that, it'll all be plain sailing."--"Ah, but there is something else," whispered Pomuchelskopp, "there's Hawermann; as long as he is in that puppy's confidence we shall make no way."--"How stupid you are!" laughed the attorney. "Did you ever hear of a young man confiding his money-troubles unreservedly to an old friend? No, no! And it's just as well for us that they never do. If that is all, Hawermann may stay as long as he likes at Pümpelhagen; but wait a moment--perhaps it would be better that he should go--he's too good a farmer--if he makes Pümpelhagen pay as well for the future as it has done during the last few years, it will be a long time before it slips out of the lieutenant's hands."--"Hawermann a good farmer!--He!--Why he tried it for himself once and failed!"--"You do him injustice there. It is a great mistake to think your opponent weaker than he really is. He must go."--"Yes, but how are we to get rid of him?"--"I can't help you there," laughed the attorney, "but you can manage it when you are providing the lieutenant with the golden sovereigns he needs so much. A well-directed hint as to the bailiff's being too old for his place would have a good effect. The devil will prompt you when the time comes."--"That's all very well," said Pomuchelskopp impatiently, "but it's slow work, and my wife is always in such a hurry."--"In this case she'll have to wait quietly," said the attorney with calm decision. "An affair of this kind can't be settled in a day. Remember how long Pümpelhagen has belonged to the von Rambow family; you can't expect to get it away from them at a moment's notice. But now--hush! I hear David coming, and he must not know what we have been talking about. You understand, he is to know of nothing but that you like taking up good bills."

When David entered the room he saw before him a couple of happy faces; Pomuchelskopp was laughing as if the attorney had been making a good joke, and the attorney was laughing as if Pomuchelskopp had been telling an amusing story. But David was not half so stupid as he looked at that moment, he knew that he had been sent out of the way, and that his colleagues were laughing at something very different from a joke.--"They have their secrets," he said to himself, "and I have mine."--So he seated himself at the opposite side of the table to Pomuchelskopp, and said with the most stupidly unconcerned expression in the world, such as only a Jewish rogue can put on: "I've seen it."--"Well?" asked Pomuchelskopp.--"Hm!" said David, shrugging his shoulders, "you say that it has been washed. Well--perhaps it has."--"What, don't you believe me? Isn't it as white as swan's-down?"--"Humph! If you ever saw swan's-down like it, perhaps it may be like swan's-down."--"What is your offer?"--"Look here! We had a better from Löwenthal in Hamburg--the great house of Löwenthal in Hamburg--the price per stone is two pounds three and sixpence."--"Yes, I know all that; you always get them to write you some scoundrelly nonsense of that kind."--"A house like that of Löwenthal never advises one of anything that is not true."--"Come, come," interrupted the attorney, "this isn't business, it's quarrelling. Suppose you send for a couple of bottles of wine, Pomuchelskopp, and then you'll both manage to strike a bargain more easily."--Mr. Slus'uhr insisted on his plan being acceded to, and the squire had to obey; he rang the bell, and when Stina Dorothy came in, he said politely and confidentially--for he was always polite to the members of his own household, above all to the women, from his Henny down to the nursery-maid:--"Bring two bottles of wine, Dorothy; the blue seal you know."

When the wine was put on the table Pomuchelskopp filled three glasses, then taking his, he emptied it at a draught, David merely smelt his, and when the attorney had finished his glass, he said: "Now, gentlemen, I've got something to say to you," and as he spoke, he winked across the table at David, and pressed Pomuchelskopp's foot under the table. "Suppose, David, you consent to give two pounds five per stone, and you Pomuchelskopp--pressing his foot again--don't want ready money, a bill to be paid on S. Antony's day would suit you better if the security is good."--"Yes," said Pomuchelskopp taking the hint, "and if you give me your father's bond on Pümpelhagen, the security is so good, that I'll give you the overplus of the wool-money into the bargain"--"There's nothing to object to in that," said David. "But how about the lumpy wool?"--No attention was paid to his remark, so he repeated: "How about the lumpy wool?"--"Oh that," said Pomuchelskopp, "of course you'll only pay me half. … "--"Stop," interrupted the attorney. "You'll get the lumpy wool for nothing if you bring the bond."--"I don't see anything against that," said David. When they had finished the wine, and were going out to their carriage, the attorney whispered jocosely to Pomuchelskopp: "David might begin the attack on the lieutenant to-morrow, and next week I can look him up myself."--Pomuchelskopp pressed his hand as gratefully as if he had just saved Phil from drowning. As soon as his visitors were gone he went back to his Henny, and with her assistance they soon arranged the future to their satisfaction. The attorney sat in the carriage smiling at his good day's work, he was pleased with himself, for he saw that he was cleverer than either of the other two; and David sat by his side, and said to himself: "Let them be. They have their secrets, but I have the lumpy wool!"

But he had reckoned without his host! When he got home and told his father of the bargain he had made, and asked for the Pümpelhagen bond, Moses looked over his shoulder at him, and said: "So, you went with that cut-throat, the attorney, to visit Pomüffelskopp--who is another cut-throat--and bought his wool; then all that I've got to say is: you can pay for it with your own bonds, for you shall have none of mine. You may do business with rats if you like, but I'll have nothing to do with them."--So David's chance of getting the lumpy wool was small.