Читать книгу Seldwyla Folks: Three Singular Tales - Gottfried Keller - Страница 4

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The people of Seldwyla have furnished proof that a whole townful of the unjust or frivolous may, after all, continue for ages to exist despite changes of time and traffic; the three combmakers, though, demonstrate as clearly that not even three decent human beings may manage to live for a long stretch under one roof without getting their backs up. And with decent, with just, is not by any means meant heavenly justice, nor even the natural justice of the human conscience, but rather that vacuous justice which from the Lord's Prayer has struck the plea: And forgive us our debts, as we also forgive our debtors! And this simply because they never contract any debts whatever and cannot stand the idea of debts. Indeed, also because they live to no one's harm, but also to no one's pleasure; because, true enough, they work and earn money, but will not spend a stuyver, and find in their laboring task some small profit but never any joy. Such soberly decent chaps do not smash window panes for the wicked fun of it, but neither do they ever light any lanterns of their own, and no enlightenment proceeds from them. They toil at all sorts of things, and one thing, to their minds, is as good as another, so long as no risk or danger be involved. But they prefer to settle in such places where there are many unjust in their sense. For if left to themselves, without any mingling with the said unjust, they would soon grind each other sorely, as do millstones which lack corn between. And if at any time some piece of ill-luck befalls them, they are greatly amazed and wail and whine as though their last hour had come, inasmuch as they, so they say, have never done harm to anyone. For they look upon this world of ours as a huge and well-organized police department in which nobody need fear any fine or punishment so long as he unfailingly sweeps his sidewalk, does not leave flowerpots standing loosely on his window sill and does not pour any water into the street.

Now in Seldwyla there was a combmaking establishment the owner of which habitually changed every fifth or sixth year, and this although it did fair business when taken proper care of. For the small traders and stand-keepers who attended the fairs in the neighborhood, obtained there their horn wares. Beside the horn rasps and files, the implements of various kinds, the most marvelous ornaments and back-combs of every description for the use of the village belles and servant maids were made there out of handsome transparent ox horns, and the rare skill of the workmen (for, of course, the master never actually toiled himself) consisted in branding and searing the close counterfeit of the most artistically designed clouds of reddish brown tortoise shell, each according to his conceit and fancy, so that, when admiring these combs as the light played on their fantastic cumulations, it looked almost as though the most magnificent sunups and sundowns were concealed within the polished horn surface, rubicund gatherings of cloudlets, thunderstorms and tornadoes, as well as still other varicolored manifestations of the forces of Nature.

In the summertime, when these proud artisans loved to wander over the surface of the land and when they were scarce, they were treated with courtesy by the masters, and received good board and wages. But during the winter, at a time when they were looking for shelter and were plentiful, they had to be humble, had to turn out combs till their very pates smoked with the effort, and all for slender pay. During that inauspicious season the mistress of the house one day after another would put a big dish of sourkrout on the table, and the master himself would then say: "These are fish!" And if at such a time any fellow was rash enough to remark: "With your permission, this is sourkrout!" he was instantly handed his walking papers and had to issue forth into the dreary winter landscape. However, as soon as the meadows once more turned green and the roads became passable, they all said: "All the same, it's sourkrout!" and made up their bundle. For even in case the mistress instantly threw a boiled ham on top of the smoking sourkrout, and the master would murmur: "Goodness, I thought all along it was fish! But this time, surely, it is a ham!" nevertheless the workmen were not to be propitiated any longer. They longed for freedom and the open, as during the long winter all three of them had had to sleep in one bed and had grown thoroughly tired of each other because of the continual kicking of ribs and because of frozen and numbed bare sides. But it so happened that once a decent and gentle soul came that way, from out of the Saxon lands, and this good fellow complied with everything, worked as hard as any ant and was absolutely not to be frozen out, in such fashion that finally he became so to speak a part of the furnishings of the house and saw the owners changing several times, those years being somewhat more given to changes than of yore. Jobst (such was the creature's name) stretched himself in the bed as stiff as a ramrod and maintained his particular place next the wall, both winter and summer. He likewise willingly accepted the sourkrout for fish, and in the spring received with humble thanks a mouthful of the ham. His lesser wages he put aside as he did his larger ones. For he never spent anything; rather he saved every penny. He did not live like the other workmen: he never touched a drop of wine, did not associate with any of his own countrymen nor with other young fellows, but stood evenings under the house door and joked with the old women, lifted the heavy water pails upon their padded heads, at least when he chanced to be in good humor, and went to bed with the chickens, except at such times as he could do extra work against extra pay. Sundays he also toiled until late into the afternoon, no matter if the weather was fine. But do not assume that he did all this with pleasure and alacrity, as did John the merry Chandler in the well-known song. On the contrary, he was always cast-down and of ill-humor because of these voluntary abstentions from the amenities of life, and he was forever complaining about his hard lot. Come Sunday afternoon, however, Jobst went in all the disarray and filth of workaday, and with his clattering sabots across the lane and fetched from the laundress his clean shirt and his neatly ironed "dicky," his high linen collar or his better handkerchief, and proceeded to carry these things in his hands to his room, stepping the while with that rooster-like majesty which used to distinguish the prideful artisan of former days. For it belonged to their privileges, when walking attired in leather apron and heavy slippers, to observe a very peculiar stride, affected and as though they were floating in upper spheres. And of them all the highly instructed bookbinders, the jolly shoemakers and cobblers, and the rarer and queer-mannered combmakers excelled in these mannerisms. But arrived in his little chamber Jobst once more took thought to himself, ruminating and seriously reflecting as to whether it was really worth while to don the clean shirt and the snowy "dicky." For with all his gentleness and moral decency he was, after all, somewhat of a swinish fellow, and thus doubts arose in his penurious little soul as to the advisability of the whole proceeding, and as to whether the soiled linen would not do just as well for another week or so, in which latter case he would simply remain at home and work a little more. Then he would sit down with a sigh and begin anew, teeth clenched and mien fierce, cutting into the horn, or else he would transmute the horn into pseudo-tortoise shell, in doing which, however, he never forgot his innate sobriety and want of imagination, so that he always put but the same odious three splotches into the smooth surface. For with him it was always thus that he would not use even the slightest trouble if he was not specially bidden to do so.

On the other hand, if his resolution ripened into the actual taking of a walk, he spent first one or two hours painfully adorning himself, next he took his dapper little cane and stalked stiffly towards the gate of the town, and there he would stand around humbly and tediously and would carry on stupid gossip with others of the same ilk, some of those who did not know any more than himself how to kill time pleasantly, perhaps ancient and decrepit Seldwylians who had neither money nor gumption to find their way into the gay tavern. With such godforsaken old fossils he was in the habit of placing himself in front of a house in process of construction, or near a field in seed, before an apple tree injured in the last storm, or perhaps next to a new yarn factory, and then he would discuss with an infinitude of detail these things, the need of them, their cost, about the hopes entertained as to the next crop, and about the actual condition of the fields, of all of which he would know no more than the man in the moon. In fact, he did not care whether he did or not; the main thing with him was that time thus slipped away in what to him appeared the cheapest and the pleasantest manner. And thus it came about that these, the old and decrepit Seldwylians, only spoke of him as the "well-mannered and sensible Saxon," for they themselves understood not a whit more than he himself. When the people of Seldwyla founded a large brewery on shares, hoping therefrom for huge business in their town, and when the extensive foundation walls emerged from the ground, Jobst used to make it his task of boring into the soil thereabouts with his cane, talking like an expert and showing the keenest interest in the progress of the work, for all the world as if he were the most assiduous toper himself and as if the success or non-success of the enterprise were a matter of life and death with him. "No indeed," he would then exclaim in his lisping voice, "this is a shplendid undertakking. Only, the devil of it is it costs so mooch monnee! So mooch monnee! It's a pity! And here, this here vault ought really to be a leetle, yoost a leetle bit deeper, and this wall a leetle bit thicker." And the other idiots sided with him and said he knew all about it.

However, for all his enthusiasm he never failed to show up in time for his Sunday supper. For that was indeed the sole chagrin he inflicted on the mistress at home that he never missed a meal, Sunday or any other day. The other workmen would go to the tavern with their comrades and friends, dance, play cards and amuse themselves. But not so Jobst. On his account alone the master's wife was forced to remain at home Sundays, or else to provide his lonesome supper. And then, after chewing as long as he could his portion of bread and sausage or cold meat, he would spend another considerable while pawing over his slender possessions, fingering them as though they were the treasures of Aladdin, with bated breath, and then he would retire to his strictly virtuous couch. That according to his notions had been an enjoyable, a roystering Sunday.

But with all his humble, decent and inconspicuous ways, Jobst was not lacking in a species of inner, hidden irony, as though in his own peculiar way he were making fun of the world with its vanity and its foolishness. Indeed he seemed even to have strong doubts as to the grandeur and worth of things in general, and to be conscious of harboring within his own soul plans far more momentous and stirring. On Sundays, notably when delivering his expert opinions on creation as a whole, he often showed a face alive with superior, with almost owlish wisdom. It was plainly to be seen in his pinched features how he carried within his inmost ken plans of immense importance, plans compared with which the doings of the others, after all, were but as child's play. The great, the overwhelmingly great plan he cherished day and night and which had been all these years his loadstar, ever since he had first appeared in Seldwyla, amounted indeed to this: To save his wages until there would be a sum sufficient to present himself some fine morning, on an occasion when the business would be once more for sale, with the money in his hand and purchase it, himself at last becoming owner and master.

This darling hope lay at the bottom of all his scheming and contriving, as he had not failed to notice how an industrious and abstemious man could not fail to flourish in Seldwyla. He, to be sure, was such a man, one who went his own quiet way and who was bound to profit from the carelessness of the people thereabouts without falling into the same errors as these. And once master and owner of the establishment, it would not be difficult for him to acquire citizenship and then, he calculated, he would spend the remainder of his life more sensibly and economically than any previous citizen of Seldwyla had ever done, not bothering the slightest about anything which was not likely to increase his wealth, not spending a penny, but accumulating more and more money, watching all the time his chances among the spendthrifts of the town. This plan was indeed as simple as it was sensible and well-considered, especially as he had begun to realize it, in his own slow but sure way, for a number of years past. For he had already saved up quite a neat little sum; this he had hidden away securely, and with things going on as they had hitherto, it was but a question of time when his scheme would attain full fruition.

But there was one point about his plan which seemed to brand it as almost inhuman. That was the fact that Jobst had conceived it at all, that is, in Seldwyla, for nothing in his heart really inclined him to Seldwyla, and nothing compelled him to remain there. He cared not a fig really either for the town or its inhabitants, either for the political condition of the country or its manners and customs. All this was as indifferent to him as was his own native land, and which latter he did not even care to ever see again. In a hundred other places of the world he might have equally well succeeded with his diligence and his habits. However, he had discarded all sense of free choice, and with his grossly grasping senses he had seized upon the first tendril of hope that offered, in order to keep hold and suck himself through it full of wealth and vigor. The saying, it is true, is: "Where I fare well, there is my home," and this may be true enough in the case of those who can really show some good and sufficient reasons why they love their new country and who of their free and conscious will went out into the wide world in order to achieve success and to return as men of weight, or of those who escape unfortunate conditions at home and, obeying a strong tendency, join the modern migration across the seas; or of those who somewhere have found better and truer friends than at home, or who discovered conditions abroad that suited their ideals and secret hopes better or who became bound by stronger ties abroad. And this new home in any case, this second home where they found things more to their taste and where they succeeded well, they necessarily must care for, so long as there they are treated humanely and fairly. Jobst, however, scarcely knew where he was; the institutions and customs of the Swiss he was unable to understand, and he merely said sometimes: "Why, yes, the Swiss are strong on politics. Maybe that's good, so long as one likes it. But I don't, and where I'm from nobody ever bothered about political things."

The customs of the Seldwylians he hated, and he felt afraid of their noisy demonstrations when they organized a political procession or had mass meetings. At such times he sat in the rear of the workshop and feared bloody riots and murder growing out of it all. But nevertheless it remained his sole object and his great secret to stay on in Seldwyla until the end of his days. Such just and decent persons like him you will find scattered all over the earth, and where they are for no better reason than that it just so happened they got hold without trouble of their own of one of these sucking tubes guaranteeing a satisfactory income. And this they do steadily, giving no thought the while to the land of their birth, but without loving their new home, without a glance to right or left, and thus resembling not so much a freeman as one of those lower organisms, odd animalculae or vegetable seeds, which by the whims of wind or water are accidentally carried to the spot where they flourish.

Thus Jobst had lived year after year in Seldwyla, slowly but constantly adding to his secret store which he had buried under the tiles of his chamber floor. No tailor could boast of having earned anything through him, for he still possessed the same Sunday coat in which he had arrived in town, and the garment was still in the same condition. Neither had any shoemaker done any work for him in Seldwyla, for the soles of his boots were still intact. The year, after all, has but fifty-two Sundays, and only the half of these were utilized by him for a walk. Nobody, in fact, had been the better for his stay in town; as soon as he received his wages the money went to the hiding-place mentioned, and even when he went off on his Sunday excursions he never put a coin in his pocket, so as to foil any temptation for spending. When hucksters or old women came to the shop with goods or fruit, with cherries, plums or pears, it was amusing to watch Jobst, who tenderly felt of the quality of the fruit, entered into discussions with the vendors, thus leading these to indulge false and extravagant hopes, only to be disappointed. He would, however, advise his comrades as to how to make the most of their purchases, how to bake their apples in the oven, to peel them or to stew them, without ever asking for or receiving one mouthful himself. But though nobody ever saw the color of his money, neither did they ever hear him swear, show any anger, demand anything not strictly within his rights, or give vent to ill-humor. He was the very essence of pacifism. He carefully avoided quarrels or argument, and he did not even make a wry face when anyone, as happened frequently, would play tricks on him. And while indeed eaten up constantly with curiosity as to the issue of every kind of gossip, disputes or wrangling he had come to know about, since these furnished him with one of his chief amusements, and while he would keep a strict account and inquire in a mild way about them and the right and wrong in each case, the while the other workmen were indulging in their rude brawls or tavern orgies, he nevertheless was mighty careful never to interfere or to take a decided part for or against. In short, he was a most curious medley of truly heroic wisdom and persistence, coupled with a gentle but pronounced want of heart and feeling.

At one time he had been for many weeks the sole workman in the establishment, and he had flourished under these circumstances like a green bay tree. Nights especially he rejoiced in the exclusive tenancy of the big, wide bed. He made full use of his opportunities, and went through incredible contortions while stretching his lank limbs in the bed. He in a manner trebled his person, changing his posture ceaselessly, and indulged in the hallucination that, as usual, there were three of them and he were urgently requested by the other two not to stand on ceremony and to take things easy. The third one being himself, he voluptuously complied with the invitation, wrapped himself completely in the feather bed, or else straddled his legs, lay across the full width of the couch, or in the harmless exuberance of delight would even turn a decent somersault or two.

But alas! the day came when he, already indulging in some such innocent capers, after having retired early, suddenly saw a strange workman sedately enter the chamber, being led thither by the mistress of the house. Jobst was just lying in measureless comfort with his head at the foot of the bed, his not quite immaculate feet on the pillows, when this happened. The stranger unfastened his heavy knapsack from his back, stood it in a corner, and then, without loss of time, began to undress, since he felt very tired. Jobst quick as a flash assumed the proper position in bed and stretched himself along his accustomed spot next to the wall. While doing this the thought rushed through his head: "Surely he'll soon clear out again, since it is summertime and fine weather for roaming about."

This hope on further consideration took firm root, and with sundry sighs and grunts lulled him to sleep. He dreamt, though, of a speedy resumption of the kicking and rowing in bed, and a nightmare woke him in the middle of the night, an evil omen. He was amazed, however, when dawn came, and he had felt neither pokes in the ribs, nor had been feloniously deprived of his share of the covering. Not only that; the new arrival, although a Bavarian, was inordinately polite, peaceable and well-behaved, for all the world like a counterpart of his own self. This unheard-of fact cost Jobst his calmness of mind. He could not drive the misgivings thus engendered from his head. And while the two were dressing in the dim light of early morning, he scrutinized his new fellow-worker closely. It seemed a singular case to him. He observed that this new man, like himself, was no longer quite young, but cleanly and decent in speech and manners. The Bavarian on his part with words well-set and sober inquired of Jobst about the circumstances of life in Seldwyla, just about in the same way in which he himself would have done it. As soon as this became apparent to him, Jobst grew secretive and kept to himself the simplest and most harmless things, opining that, of course, the Bavarian must have some occult motive in coming to this town. To ascertain this secret now became the prime object with him. That there was a deep secret he never had the slightest doubt. Why else should this man, just like himself, be such a gentle, smooth-spoken and experienced sort? Only by the theory of his harboring a deep-laid scheme, of being a designing person, could he explain matters to himself. And thus began a kind of silent, never-sleeping warfare between these two. Each did his best to find out the "secret" of the other; but it was all done with the greatest precaution, in words of double meaning, by amiable subterfuges and in peaceable ways. Neither ever gave a clear answer to any question, but yet after the lapse of but a few hours each of the pair was firmly convinced that the other was in all essential respects his own double. And when in the course of the day Fridolin, the Bavarian, several times visited the chamber and busied himself with something, Jobst seized upon the first chance to go there likewise at a moment when the other was fully occupied with his work, and hurriedly made a search of Fridolin's personal property. However, he discovered nothing but almost precisely the same articles owned by himself, down to a small wooden needle case, except that here he found it in the shape of a fish, while his own bore a sportive resemblance to a baby; and, further, in lieu of a somewhat dilapidated conversational grammar for popular use in which Jobst sometimes studied French, the Bavarian could boast of a neatly bound copy of a book entitled "The cold and the hot Vat, an indispensable Handbook for Dyers." And in it there was a penciled note on the margin: "Pledge for three Stuyvers which the Nassau man borrowed of me." From this Jobst judged that he was dealing with somebody who knew how to take care of his own, and thinking so instinctively cast searching glances along the floor. Soon, too, he noticed a tile which seemed to have recently been removed. And sure enough, when he took this out, he found the man's treasure, folded and wrapped in the half of an old handkerchief tightly wound about with tough twine, almost as heavy as his own, although his was encased in an old sock. Trembling with excitement he replaced the tile in its yawning hole, trembling at the thought of such admirable foresight and wise economy in the case of another, a rival, a competitor. He flew down the stairs, and in the workshop he set to as if it depended on his exertions to provide the entire world with combs for generations to come. And the Bavarian did the same, as if Heaven itself must also be combed. During the ensuing week each found full confirmation of his first suspicion. For if Jobst was industrious and frugal, Fridolin was active and abstemious, and with the same regretful sighs at the difficulty of these virtues. And when Jobst was serene and sapient, Fridolin was jocular and knowing. If the one was humble, the other was even more so. When Jobst showed himself sly or ironical, the other was sarcastic and almost astute. And if Jobst made a face betraying his peaceful disposition, his double succeeded in putting on an air of incomparable asininity.

The whole was not so much a race between the two as it was the simple exercise of conscious mastery in all these arts. Each was fully permeated with the conviction that the other would excel him if not constantly on the watch. Neither disdained imitating the other. Each of them was forever on the lookout to perfect himself, taking the other as a model in any traits which he himself might yet lack or be deficient in. And with all that they looked most of the time as though each was perfectly incapable of seeing through the other. Thus they resembled two doughty heroes who behave towards each other with knightly courtesy and even assist one another until the moment shall arrive when they begin to hack away at each other.

However, after the lapse of this week a third came, a Suabian, by name Dietrich, whereat the two in silence rejoiced, as at a jolly foil against which their own greatness of soul could best be measured and compared. And they intended to place the poor little Suabian between their own selves, to make the contrast between him and their own patent virtues all the more striking, about as in the case of two stately lions with a tiny monkey between, with whom they might deign to play.

But who can describe their astonishment when they observed that the Suabian behaved precisely in the same manner as themselves, and when the recognition of a kindred soul took place by the identical processes as had been the case before. The same adroit system of standing sentinel over each other was repeated. But with this signal difference, that now it was a triangular game, whereby not only they themselves altered somewhat their own attitude, but the third man his also, and that they all three finally stood towards each other in distinctly different positions.

This became first apparent on the night of his arrival when they took him between themselves in bed. The Suabian demonstrated his entire parity. Like a match he lay within the slim space, so perfectly poised and without the flicker of an eyelid that there actually remained a bit of room, of neutral territory, on either side. And the bed cover remained spread over the trio as tight and smooth as the wrapping paper over three herrings. He was evidently their match. The situation now commenced to be more serious, more complicated, and since all three now faced each other like the three corners of a triangle, and since no friendly or confidential relations were under these circumstances feasible between them, no armistice or courtly tournament, they got into a state of mind where they with malice aforethought, each in his own way and with his own weapons, gently and slily began to try ousting each other out of bed and house.

When the master of the house saw that these three queer customers would put up with anything, if only they were allowed to remain in his service, he first lowered their wages, and next gave them scanter fare. But this only led to an aggravation of diligence on their part, and that again enabled him to flood the whole surrounding district with his goods, and he got orders upon orders, so that he made a pile of money out of their cheap labor and possessed a veritable gold mine in them. He let out his leather belt around the loins by several holes and began to play quite an important part in the town, while all this time his foolish workmen slaved like beasts of burden in their dark and ill-ventilated shop at home, striving, each of them, to force the other two out of the race. Dietrich, the Suabian, although the youngest of them, proved of the same calibre as the other two. The only difference was that he as yet had scarcely any savings, inasmuch as he had not yet traveled around much, having been a prentice until recently. This would have been an unfortunate obstacle for him in the race, for Jobst and Fridolin would have had greatly the start of him, if he as a Suabian had not been inventive in stratagem. For although Dietrich's heart, like that of the others, was wholly bare of any sinful or earthly passion, always excepting the one of persisting to remain in Seldwyla and nowhere else, and to reap all the advantages of that plan, he nevertheless bethought him of the trick of falling in love and to woo such a maiden as should possess about such a dowry in size as the respective treasures which the Saxon or the Bavarian had hidden under their tiles.

It was one of the better peculiarities of the Seldwyla folk that they were averse to wed unattractive or unamiable women just for the sake of a somewhat larger dowry. There was no very great temptation anyway, for wealthy heiresses there were none in their town, either pretty or homely ones, and thus they at least maintained their sturdy and manly independence even by disdaining the smaller mouthfuls, and preferred to unite themselves rather with goodlooking and merry girls, and thus lead for a few years with them at any rate a happy life. Hence it was not hard for the Suabian, spying about for a suitable partner, to find his way into the good graces of a virtuous maiden. She dwelt in the same street, and in conversation with old women he had soon ascertained that she possessed as her own undoubted property a mortgage of seven hundred florins. This maiden was Zues Buenzlin, the twenty-eight-year-old daughter of a washerwoman. She lived with her mother, but could freely dispose of this legacy from her deceased father. This valuable bit of paper she kept in a highly varnished trunk. There, too, she had the accumulated interest money, her baptismal certificate, her testimonial of confirmation, and a painted and gilt Easter egg; in addition to all this she preserved there half a dozen silver spoons, the Lord's Prayer printed in gold letters upon transparent glass, although she believed the material to be human skin, a cherry stone into which was carved the Passion of Christ, and a small box of ivory, lined with red satin, and in which were concealed a tiny mirror and a silver thimble; there was also in it another cherry stone in which you could hear clattering a diminutive set of ninepins, a nutshell in which a madonna became visible behind glass, a silver heart, in a hollow of which was a scent bottle, and a candy box fashioned out of dried lemon peel, on the cover of which was painted a strawberry, and in which there might be discovered a golden pin displayed on a couch of cotton wool representing a forget-me-not, and a locket showing on the inside a monument woven out of hair; lastly, a bundle of age-yellowed papers with recipes, secrets, and so forth; also a small flask of Cologne water, another holding stomach drops, a box of musk, another with marten excrements, and a small basket woven out of odoriferous grasses, another of beads and cloves, and then a small book bound in sky-blue silk and entitled "Golden Life Rules for the Maiden as Betrothed, Wife and Mother"; and a dream book, a letter writer, five or six love letters, and a lancet for use to let blood. This last piece came from a barber and assistant surgeon to whom she had once been engaged, and since she was a naturally skillful and very sensible person she had learned from her fiancé how to open a vein, to put on leeches, and similar things, and had even been able to shave him herself. But alas, he had proved an unworthy object of her affections, with whom she might easily have risked her temporal and heavenly welfare, and thus she had with saddened but wise resolution broken the engagement. Gifts were returned on both sides, with the exception of the lancet. This she kept in pawn as pledge for one florin and eight and forty stuyvers, which sum she on one occasion had lent him in cash. The unworthy one claimed, however, that she had no right to it since she had given him the money on the occasion of a ball, in order to defray joint expenses, and he added that she had eaten twice as much as himself. Thus it happened that he kept the florin and forty-eight stuyvers, while she kept the surgical appliance, with which Zues operated extensively among her female acquaintance and earned many a penny. But every time she used the instrument she could not help mentioning the low habits of him who had once stood so close to her and who had almost become her partner for life.

All these things were locked up in that trunk, and the trunk again was kept in a large walnut wardrobe, the key to which Zues had constantly in her pocket. As to her person, Zues had rather sparse reddish hair as well as clear pale-blue eyes; these now and then possessed some charm, and then would throw glances both wise and gentle. She owned an enormous store of clothes, but of these she only wore the oldest. However, she was always carefully and cleanly dressed, and just as neat was the appearance of her room. She was very industrious and helped her mother in her laundry work, ironing out the finer and more delicate fabrics and washing the lace caps and the jabots of the wealthier Seldwyla ladies, thus earning quite a bit. And it may be that it was due to this sort of activity that Zues always exhibited the peculiar stern and dignified bent of mind which women show when they are dealing with laundry work, especially with the work over the tub. For Zues never unbent at all until the ironing began. Then, it might be, a species of sedate cheerfulness would seize upon her, in her case, however, invariably spiced with words of wisdom. This sedate spirit, too, was recognizable in the chief decorative piece on the premises, namely, a garland of soap cakes, square, accurately gauged cakes, which encircled the large living room on shelves. The soap was thus exposed to the warm air currents in order to harden and become fitter for use. And it was Zues herself who always cut out the cakes by means of a brass wire. The wire had fastened to it at either end two small wooden knobs so one could seize them there for a more commodious cutting of the soft soap. But a fine pair of compasses used in dividing the soap in equal sections was also there. This instrument had been made for her and presented as a valued gift by a journeyman mechanician with whom she had at one time been as good as engaged. From him, too, came a gleaming small brass mortar for the pulverization of spices. This decorated the edge of her cupboard, right between the blue china tea can and the painted flower vase. For long such a dainty little mortar had been her special desire, and the attentive mechanician was therefore extremely welcome when he appeared one afternoon on her birthday and likewise brought along something to put the mortar to its legitimate use: a boxful of cinnamon, lump sugar, cloves and pepper. The mortar itself he hung, before entering at the door, by one of its handles to his little finger, and with the pestle he started a gay tinkling, just like a bell, so that out of the adventure grew a jolly day of festivity. However, shortly afterwards the false scoundrel fled from the district, and was never heard of more. Besides that, his master even demanded the return of the mortar, since the fugitive had taken it from his shop, but had forgotten to pay for it. But Zues did not deliver up this valuable object. On the contrary, she went to law for its undisputed possession, and in court she defended her claim valiantly, basing her rights on the fact that she had washed, starched and ironed a set of "dickies" for the vanished lover. Those days, the days when she was forced to defend her rights to the mortar in open court, were the most conspicuous and painful of her whole life, since she with her deep feelings felt these things and more particularly her appearance in court for the sake of such delicate affairs much more keenly than others of a lighter disposition would have done. All the same she scored a victory and kept her mortar.

If, however, this neat soap gallery proclaimed her exact working tactics and her passion for toil, a row of books, arranged in orderly fashion on the window ledge, did honor to her religious and disciplined mind. These books were of a miscellaneous description, and she read and reread them studiously on Sundays. She still possessed all her school books, never having lost a single one of them. She also still carried in her head all her little stock of scholastic learning acquired at school; she knew the whole catechism by heart, as well as the contents of the grammar, of the arithmetic, of her geography book, of the collection of biblical stories, and of the various readers and spellers. Then she also owned some of the pretty tales by Christoph Schmid and the latter's short novelettes, with handsome verses at the end, at least a half dozen of sundry treasuries of poetry and gatherings of popular fairy tales, a number of almanacs full of specimens of homely wisdom and practical experience, several precise and remarkable prophecies of tremendous events to come, a guide for laying the cards, a book of edification for every day of the year intended for the use of thoughtful virgins, and an old and slightly damaged copy of Schiller's "The Robbers," which she slowly perused again and again, as often as she feared she might begin to forget this stirring drama. And each time she read it, the play appealed to her sentimental heart anew, so that she made constant references to it and commented in a highly praiseworthy manner on the various personages presented in it. And really all there was in these books she also retained in her memory, and understood exceedingly well how to speak about them and about many other things as well. When she felt cheerful and contented and did not have to hasten her labors too greatly, speech flowed continuously from her lips, and everything under the sun she knew how to judge and to put into its proper category. Young and old, high and low, learned and unlearned, they all were compelled to listen and to receive instruction from her. First, she would hear everybody out, meanwhile smilingly and sensibly straightening out the case in her wise little head. And then, having now perceived whither all these plaints or fears tended, she would solve the more or less knotty problem at a stroke. Sometimes she would speak so unctuously and elaborately on matters that irreverent criticasters had compared her to learned blind persons who have never had sight of the world and whose sole solace it is to hear themselves talk.

From the time she went to the town school and from her lessons of instruction before she was confirmed by the pastor, she had retained the habit of composing, from time to time, essays and exercises, and thus it was that she would, on quiet Sundays, laboriously write out the most marvelous compositions. One of her favorite methods in doing this was to seize upon some melodious title that she had heard of or read in the course of the week, and taking this, so to speak, as her text, would proceed to pile up from it the most wonderful conclusions and deductions, not infrequently culminating in very odd or nonsensical dicta. Page on page of this balderdash she would perpetrate, just as it issued from the convolutions of her silly brain. Such themes, for example, as "The Various Beneficent Uses of a Sickbed," "About Death," "About the Wholesomeness of Resignation," "About the Giant Size of the World," "About the Secrets of Life Eternal," "About Residence in the Country," "About Nature," "About Dreams," "About Love," "About Redemption and Christ," "Three Points in the Theory of Self-Justification," "Thoughts about Immortality," she often solved in her own easy way. Then she would read aloud to her friends and admirers these productions, and it was a supreme proof of her special regard and affection for her to present one or the other of them to a close friend. Such gifts, she insisted on, had to be placed within the pages of a Bible, that is, if the recipient happened to have one.

This leaning of Zues' nature towards religious ecstasy and contemplation had once gained her the profound and respectful affection of a young bookbinder, a man who read every book he bound and who was, besides, both ambitious and enthusiastic. Whenever he brought his bundle of soiled linen to Zues' mother, he deemed himself to be in paradise, for he swallowed greedily all of the maiden's thoughts, and her boldest figures of speech now and then, he shyly said, would remind him of things he had dared to think himself, but which he had never had the skill and the courage to frame into words. Bashfully and humbly he approached this talented virgin, who was by turns severe and eloquent, and she deigned to suffer this modest intercourse and held him in leading-strings for a whole year, not, however, without making the hopelessness of his suit plain to him, gently but determinedly. For inasmuch as he was nine years her junior, poor as a church mouse and awkward in gaining a living, men of his calling not being in clover in Seldwyla anyhow, since people there do not read much and, consequently, have few books to bind, she never for a moment hid from herself the impossibility of a union. She merely found it pleasant to develop his mind and character and to furnish her own as a model to strive after. Her own powers of resignation were all the time for him to take pattern by, and so she embalmed his aspirations in an iridescent cloud of phrases. And he on his part would listen modestly, and once or twice find heart to risk a beautiful sentence himself. This she invariably answered by instantly killing his observation with a finer one. That year, when she calmly received the adoration of this youth, was reckoned by her the most ethereal and noblest of her existence, since it was not disturbed by a single breath from the lower and material spheres, and the young man during it bound anew all her books, and with infinite pains wrought night after night toward the ultimate completion of an artful and precious monument of his adoration for her. This was, to be plain, a huge Chinese temple of pasteboard, containing innumerable tiny compartments and secret receptacles, and which might be entirely taken apart and reconstructed on following carefully previous instructions. This miracle was pasted all over with the finest samples of varicolored and glazed paper, and everywhere ornamented with gilt borders. Minute mirrors inside colonnaded halls of state reflected the gay colors, and by removing one section of the structure or opening another one there were more mirrors and hidden pictures, nosegays of paper or loving couples. The curving or shelving roofs were everywhere hung with little bells. Even a small stand for a lady's watch was there, with hooks to hang it up on and with other hooks to trail a slender meandering chain through. Only up to now no watchmaker had yet offered a pretty watch or a chain to decorate this altar with. An enormous deal of trouble and skill had been wasted on this pasteboard temple, and its ground plan was just as correct as the work itself. And when this monument of a year passed jointly so pleasantly had been duly accepted, Zues Buenzlin encouraged the good bookbinder, doing violence to her own well-regulated heart, to tear himself away from the town and to set once more his staff for a wandering life. She pointed out with perfect justice that the whole world stood open to him, and she assured him that now, having schooled and ennobled his heart by improving his acquaintance with herself, happiness elsewhere would certainly be in store for him. She would never forget him and retire into solitude. And indeed, the young fellow was so much affected by these moral exhortations that he shed a few melancholy tears in passing the town gate on his way. His masterpiece, however, since stood on top of Zues' old-fashioned clothes press, daintily covered by a veil of green gauze, thus defying dust and profane gaze. She considered it so much of a sacred relic that she kept it intact and without even placing anything whatever into those many tiny recesses of the temple. In her memory he continued to live as "Emmanuel," although his real name had been Veit. And she told everyone with whom she discussed the case that Emmanuel alone had completely understood her inner self. This she said now that he was gone, but while he had been with her in the flesh she had been of different opinion, for she had rarely admitted to him that he was right, deeming it wiser to thus urge him on to higher and ever higher endeavor in his search of a perfect agreement of mind with his idol. Indeed, she had more than once intimated to him, at times when he hoped he had at last fully entered the arcana of her soul, that he was farther and farther from it.

But he, too, Veit-Emmanuel, played her a little trick. He had placed in a false bottom, in one of the diminutive apartments of his pasteboard fairy palace, the most touching of all love letters, bedewed with his tears, wherein he confessed his bitter grief at parting from her, his love, his worship and his sublime steadfastness, and in such passionate and sincere terms had he done this as only genuine feeling can find, even if it has lost itself in a cul-de-sac. Such touching, such moving things he had never said to her, simply because she never would give him the chance, having always interrupted him when he was on the point of doing so. But as she had not the slightest suspicion that any such document had been put away within the temple, she never found the missive and thus fate for once dealt justly and did not let a false beauty see that which she was not worthy of. And it was also a symbol that she it was who had not fathomed the somewhat silly, but devoted and sincere heart of the youth.

For a long while she had been praising the doings of the three combmakers, and had called them three decent and sensible men; for she had closely observed them. When, therefore, Dietrich, the Suabian, began to linger longer and longer in her dwelling when bringing or fetching his shirt, and to pay court to her, she treated him in a friendly manner and kept him near her for hours by means of her lofty conversation. And Dietrich talked back, of course, to please her, just as much as he could; and she was one of the kind that could stand more than a fair measure of laudation. Indeed, one might truthfully say that she liked it all the more the more spiced and peppered it was. When praising her wisdom and kindness, she kept still as a mouse, until there was no more of it, whereupon she would with heightened color pick up the thread where it had been dropped, and would touch up the painting in those spots where it seemed to require a trifle of additional color. And Dietrich had not been going back and forth in her house for any great length of time when she showed him that mortgage of hers, and he thereupon began to exude a quiet, sedate species of self-satisfaction, and began to behave toward his rivals with such stealth as though he had invented the perpetuum mobile. Jobst and Fridolin, however, soon unearthed his secret, and they were amazed at the depth of his dissimulation and at his cleverness. Jobst above all clutched his hair and tore out a good handful of it; for had he himself not been going to the same house for a long while, and had it ever occurred to him to look for anything there but his clean linen? Rather, he had hitherto almost hated the washerwomen because he had been forced to dig up a few stuyvers every week to pay them. Never had he thought of marriage, because he was unable to conceive of a wife under any other aspect than that of a being that wanted something out of him which he did not deem her due, and to expect something from such a feminine creature that might be of advantage to him had never entered his thoughts, since he had confidence only in himself, and his calculations had so far never gone beyond the narrowest horizon, that of his secret. But now reflecting deep and serious he reached the determination to outdo this sly little Suabian, for if the latter should really succeed in getting hold of Dame Zues' seven hundred florins, he might become a keen competitor. The seven hundred florins, too, suddenly shone and glittered very differently, in the eyes both of the Saxon and of the Bavarian. Thus it was that Dietrich, the man of invention, had discovered a land which soon became the joint property of the three, and thus shared the hard lot of all discoverers, for the two others at once got on the same track and likewise became steady callers on Zues Buenzlin. She therefore saw herself surrounded by a whole court of decent and respectable combmakers. That she relished greatly; never before had she had a number of admirers at one time. It became a novel entertainment for her shrewd mind to handle these three with the greatest impartiality and skill, to keep them at all times within bounds and cool reason, and to thus influence them by frequent speeches in favor of the beauties of resignation and unselfishness until Heaven itself should by some act of intervention decide matters irrevocably.

As each of the three had confided to her his secret and his plans, she immediately made up her mind to render happy that one who really would attain his goal and become owner of the business. And in thus deciding in her own heart how she should proceed, she from that hour on deliberately excluded the Suabian, since he could not succeed except through and by her money. But while thus actually discarding the Suabian as a possible candidate for her hand, she reflected that, after all, he was the youngest, handsomest and most amiable of the trio, and thus she would spare for him many a token of regard and confidence, and lull him into the belief that his chances were the best. But while so doing, she knew how to arouse the jealousy of the other two, and thus spur them on to greater zeal. And so it came to pass that Dietrich, this poor Columbus who had first sighted and nearly taken possession of the pretty land, became nothing but a mere pawn in her game, nothing but the poor fool who unconsciously assisted in the angling for the real fish. Meanwhile all three of them assiduously wooed and courted the coy maiden, running a close race in the difficult art of showing all the time devotion, modesty and sense, while being kept by the bridle. She on her part was in her element, for she forever told them to be unselfish and to practice resignation. When the whole four now and then happened to be together, they made the impression of a singular conventicle where the queerest remarks were being expressed. And despite of all their timidity and humility it would happen once in a while that one of the three, suddenly dropping his hosannahs in praise of the rare gifts and virtues of the maiden, would plunge into a measure of self-laudation. At such moments it was edifying and truly touching to see Zues gently interrupt the rash one and chide him for his breach of good manners. She would then shame him by forcing him to listen to a homily on his rivals.

However, this was really a hard sort of life for the poor combmakers to lead. No matter how much ordinarily they had themselves under control, now that a woman had entered as a factor into their game, there would occur wholly novel spurts of jealousy, of fear, of misgiving, and of hope. What with a fury of work and increased economy, they almost killed themselves and certainly lost flesh. They became melancholy, and while before people--and especially before Zues--they endeavored hard to maintain the appearance of the utmost harmony, they scarcely spoke a word to each other when alone together at work or in their common sleeping chamber, lay down sighing in their joint bed, and dreamed of murder, albeit still resting quietly and immovably one next the other as so many sticks. One and the same dream hovered nightly over the trio, until really once it came to one of the sleepers, so that Jobst in his place by the wall turned over violently and kicked Dietrich. Dietrich avoided the kick and gave Jobst a hard push, and now there was among the three sleepy combmakers an outbreak of elemental wrath. The most tremendous row ensued in the bed, and for fully three minutes they treated each other to fearful lunges, kicks and pushes, so that all the six legs formed an inextricable tangle, until with a thundering crash they rolled out of bed and began to howl like savage beasts. Becoming fully awake they at first thought the devil were after them or else thieves had entered their room. Screaming they rose quickly. Jobst took his stand upon his tile; Fridolin planted himself firmly upon his own, and Dietrich did the like upon that tile beneath which his still rather slender savings reposed. And thus standing in a triangle, they worked their arms like flails and shouted their loudest: "Get out; get out!" until the master came rushing up from below and after a while quieted the three frenzied fellows. Trembling then with fear, shame and anger, they crept back into bed, and then, wide-awake, lay there mute until dawn came and forced them to rise.

However, the nocturnal spook had only been the prelude to something worse. For at breakfast the master let them know that for the time being he had no longer need of three journeymen, and that two of them would have to pack up their bundle. It appeared that they had defeated their own object by hurrying and hastening work, so that now there were more wares than the boss was able to dispose of, while on the other hand, he, the master, himself had taken advantage of the extreme mood for work his men had shown for months to lead on his part an opulent and disorderly life, spending nearly all his extra gains in riotous quips. Indeed, when the details of his doings became public it turned out that he had run into such an amount of debt that the load of it came well-nigh smothering him. Thus it came about that he, looking over his own situation, was unable to employ or support his three workmen, no matter how abstemious they were and how intent on his further profit. For consolation he told them that he was equally fond of all three of them and loath to tell either to go, wherefore he had made up his mind to leave it wholly to them which of the three should leave and which should stay. All they had to do, he remarked smilingly, was to agree among themselves upon that point.

But they were unable to come to a decision as to this. Rather they stood there pale as ghosts, and simpered timidly at each other. Then they became tremendously excited, since they clearly perceived that the most momentous hour of their existence was approaching. For they judged from the words of the master that he would not be able to continue the business much longer, and that, therefore, it would soon become an object of sale. The goal, then, each of them had striven for with such infinite patience and cunning seemed in sight, and to their heated fancy was already glittering and shining like a new Jerusalem. And now came this awful decree, and two of them would have to turn their backs upon the heavenly prospect. It was almost more than they could bear. After a very brief consultation and reflection all three of them went to see the master, and declared with tearful voices that rather than leave him they would stay on, even though they would have to work gratis. But then the master declared jovially that even in that case he had no further use for all the three. Two of them, he again assured them, would have to quit the house. They fell at his feet; they wrung their hands; they asked and implored him to let them stay on: only for another three months, for one month, for a fortnight. The master, however, after at first enjoying the humor of the situation, at last lost all patience. Besides, he was perfectly aware what their motive in all this pretended loyalty for him was, and that soured his temper. Suddenly an idea occurred to him, and he did not hesitate to make them a proposition.

"Why," he smiled, "if you cannot agree among yourselves at all as to who is to remain and who to go, I will tell you how we will decide this matter. But that is absolutely the last proposal I shall make to you. To-morrow being Sunday, I shall pay your wages; you pack up your belongings, get ready to go forth and take your staffs. Then you will in all good faith and perfect harmony leave jointly, going out by whichever gate you may agree upon, and march on the highroad for another half-hour, no more, no less, and then stop. Then you will rest yourselves a trifle, and if you care to do so, you may even drink a shoppen or two. Having done so, you will all three of you turn once more and walk back to town, and whoever will then first ask me for work, him I will keep, but the other two must wander forth for good and all, wherever they might choose to go."

Hearing this cruel decision, they three fell once more at his feet and begged him most pitifully to have mercy on them and to desist from his plan. But the master, who by this time began to anticipate some rare fun in his wicked soul, was obstinate and would not listen to them, hardening himself. Suddenly the Suabian sprang up and ran out of the house like a man demented, across the street to Zues Buenzlin. Scarcely had Jobst and the Bavarian observed that, when they ceased to lament themselves and followed the youngest. Within a very brief space the three of them were seated in the dwelling of the frightened maiden.

Zues felt rather abashed and undecided by reason of the adventure taking such an unexpected turn. But she calmed herself, and viewing the matter from her own particular angle, she resolved to make her plans subservient to the master's odd conceit. In fact, she regarded this new aspect of affairs as a special dispensation of Providence. Touched and devout she fetched out one of her volumes, then with her needle at random pricked among the leaves, and when she opened the book at the spot, she found a passage that spoke of the persistent following of the righteous path. Next she made the three guests turn up passages blindfolded, and all that was found treated of walking along the narrow way, of advancing without looking backwards, in short, of nothing but running and racing. Thus, then, she decided, Heaven itself had prescribed the projected race for to-morrow. But since she was afraid that Dietrich, as being the youngest and the ablest in jumping, walking, and running, and thus most likely to win the palm if left without supervision, she made up her mind to go herself along with the three lovers, and to watch for an opportunity for bending or influencing possibly the outcome of this undertaking in accordance with her own secret desires. For she wished, as we must recall, one of the older men to be the victor, she did not care which of the two.

In furtherance of this plan she insisted that the three be quiet for a spell and cease slandering and berating each other, but rather summon themselves to acquiescence in God's will. She put on her judicial air and said:

"Know, my friends, that nothing happens here below without the direction and sometimes direct interference of Providence, and no matter if the plan of your master be unusual and singular, we must look upon it as ordered by higher powers than he, although it may be that he has not even an inkling of this. He is the dumb and unconscious instrument in the hands of the Ruler. Our peaceable and harmonious intercourse here has been too beautiful altogether to have been prolonged much farther. For, behold, all the good things in life are but transitory and pass away, and nothing is lasting but evil things, the loneliness of the soul and the persistence of sin, whereupon we feel impelled to consider all this and to try and grasp their meaning in this life and in the life to come. Hence, too, let us rather separate before the wicked demon of discord raises its head amongst us, and let us bid each other farewell, just as do the soft zephyrs of springtime when they swiftly move along high in the sky, and let us do this before the rough storms of autumn overtake us. I myself will accompany you on the first stage of your hard road, and will be the eyewitness of your trial race, so that you will start on it with a good courage and so that you know behind you a gentle propelling power, while victory winks from afar. But just as the victor will forbear to show a spirit of undue pride, those who have been defeated will not permit themselves to become despondent nor to load their souls with grief or wrath because of their lack of success in the venture. They will depart feeling affection for him who bears the palm, and will enshrine him and us in their inmost heart. They will fare forth into the wide world with joyous disposition. They must reflect on the fact that men have built cities galore that outshine in their splendors and beauties Seldwyla by far. There is, for instance, a huge and memorable city wherein dwells the Father of all Christendom. And Paris, too, is quite a mighty town, where may be found innumerable souls and many fine palaces. And in Constantinople there rules the Sultan, of Turkish faith is he, and there is Lisbon, once destroyed by an earthquake, but since reconstructed finer than ever. Again we have Vienna, the capital of Austria and called the gay imperial city, and London is the wealthiest town of all, situated in Engelland, along a river the name of which is the Thames. Two millions of human beings, they say, have their habitation there. St. Petersburg, on the other hand, is the capital and imperial city of Russia, whereas Naples is the capital of the kingdom of the same name, near which is the Vesuvius, a high mountain forever breathing fire and smoke. On that mountain, according to the version of a credible witness, a lost soul once upon a time appeared to a ship's captain, as I have read in a curious book of travel, which soul belonged to John Smidt, who one hundred and fifty years ago was a godless man, and who now commissioned the said captain to visit his descendants in Engelland, so he might be redeemed. For look you, the entire mountain is the abode of the damned, as may also be read in the tract of the learned Peter Hasler where he discusses the probable entrance to hell. Many other cities there are indeed, whereof I will still mention Milan, and Venice, built wholly upon water, and Lyons, and Marseilles, and Strasbourg, and Cologne, and Amsterdam. Of Paris I have already spoken, but there is also Nuremberg, and Augsburg, and Frankfort, and Basle, and Berne, and Geneva, all of them handsome towns, and pretty Zurich, and besides all these still many more which I have neither leisure nor inclination to enumerate here. For everything has its limits, excepting the inventive genius of man, who goes everywhere and undertakes anything which seems to him useful. And if men are just everything prospereth with them; but if they are unjust they will perish like the grass of the fields and vanish like smoke. Many are called, but few are chosen. For all these reasons and because of others to which our duty and the virtue of a clear conscience oblige us, we will now submit ourselves to the voice of fate. Go forth, therefore, and prepare for the time of trial, and for the period of wandering, but do so as just and gentle beings, who bear their worth within themselves, no matter whither they may go, and whose staff will everywhere take root, who, no matter what their calling may be and no matter what business they may seize upon, are always in the right in saying to themselves; 'I have chosen the better part.'"

Of all this the combmakers really did not want to hear just then, but on the contrary insisted that Zues should select one of them and tell him to remain in Seldwyla, and each one of them in saying so only thought of himself. She, however, was careful to avoid a premature choice. On the contrary, she told them bluntly that they must obey her on pain of forfeiting her friendship forever. At once Jobst, the oldest of the three, skipped off, right into the house of their ex-master, and to perceive that and follow him in haste, was the work of an instant, since they were afraid that he might be planning something against them on the sly, and thus the trio acted all day long, whisking about like falling stars, hither and thither. They hated each other like three spiders in one web. Half the town witnessed this queer spectacle, observing the three strangely excited combmakers, they who until that day had always been so orderly and quiet. The ancient people of the town could not but feel that something evil, something tragic was underway, and they would nod and whisper to one another of their fears. Towards nightfall, however, the combmakers became tired and spent, without having reached any definite conclusion, and in that mood they retired and stretched out their limbs in the old bed, with chattering teeth and half-sick with impotent rage. One by one they crept beneath the covering, and there they lay, as though felled by the hand of death itself, with thoughts in turmoil and confusion, until at last sleep came like balm for their uproarious minds.

Jobst was first to waken, at early dawn, and he saw that spring was weaving its garlands and that the great orb was rising in the east, in a mass of cloudlets of dainty hue. The first rays of the sun were already penetrating the dusky chamber wherein he had been sleeping for the past six years. And while the room assuredly looked bare and unattractive enough, it seemed nevertheless a paradise to him, a paradise from which he was about to be driven thus unjustly and unfairly, it appeared to him. He let his eyes wander all over the walls, and counted on them the traces left by all the preceding journeymen that had been harbored under that roof. Here there was a dark stain from the one who was in the habit of rubbing against the wall his greasy pate; there another one had driven in a nail, on which he used to hang his long pipe, and, sure enough, a bit of scarlet tape still clung to the nail. How good and harmless had they all been, all those that had come and gone, while these fellows now, spread out their whole length next to him in bed, would not go. Next he fastened his glance upon the objects nearer his field of vision, those objects which he had noticed thousands of times before, on all those occasions when he had lain in bed in a contemplative mood, mornings, nights, or daytime, and when he had enjoyed in his own peculiar way the bliss of existence, free of cost and with a serene mind. There was, for example, a spot in the ceiling where the wet had damaged it. This spot had often set his imagination at work. It looked like the map of a whole country, with lakes and rivers and cities, and a group of grains of sand represented an isle of the blessed. Farther down a long bristle from the painter's brush attracted Jobst's wandering attention; for this bristle had been held back by the blue paint and was embedded in it. This phenomenon interested Jobst greatly, for it was his own handiwork. Last autumn he had accidentally discovered a small remnant of the azure paint, and to utilize it had proceeded to spread it over that portion of the ceiling nearest to him. But just beyond the bristle there was a very slight protuberance, almost like a chain of mountains, and this threw its shadow across the bristle over against the isle of the blessed. About this rise in the scenery he had been brooding and speculating the whole of the past winter, because it seemed to him that it had not been there formerly.