Читать книгу The German Pioneers: A Tale of the Mohawk - Spielhagen Friedrich - Страница 6

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While Lambert had been engaged within there came through the door a bright light, which Catherine now saw was produced by a large pine fagot burning in a corner of the room near a great stone-hearth. The room was half kitchen and store-room, and half living-room--such as the young woman had become acquainted with in many a farm-house where she had rested during her journey. It was fitted up with various utensils hanging on the walls and ceiling, standing in corners and lying on the floor. Near the hearth there were a couple of rough pine chairs, and, against the wall, a large four-cornered table, serving both for a dressing-table and for meals. There still stood on it a couple of earthen dishes on which were the remains of a meal to which a bear's ham, which had not again been hung upon its hook, contributed the principal part. The entire arrangement was planned on the basis of the simplest necessity. There was no trace of an endeavor after grace and beauty, or the merely agreeable. This observation, that the young maiden made with her first glance about the room, fell upon her heart even more heavily than the empty house. The house would fill up when the absent ones returned, but would she be happy in the company of those who lived here, who called it their home?

"I must look after my horse," said Lambert, "and after the rest of the things. You may meanwhile prepare the evening meal--you will probably find something. We will after that consider your sleeping apartment. It looks very bad here, but Conrad knows nothing about order. However, you can have a chamber upstairs. I will sleep below. I shall not go far, and will soon be back. Do not be afraid."

He said all this forcibly, in snatches, while prying into the corners, so that she scarcely understood him. Then he quickly left the house, and she heard him outside untie the horse and go away with it.

"Do not be afraid! Should I be so it would not be strange. How wonderful it all is! But he has been so heavenly kind to me, a poor girl; and surely his intentions are as honorable and true as ever. Where can they be? They must certainly be at some neighbor's." She had seen at a distance from the creek a couple of roofs. "Does he still expect them back? Now I will do what becomes a good maid who expects her master. What shall I begin with? Yes, that is it. So, it will soon begin to look more cheerful."

She turned to the hearth and in a few minutes had made a bright fire with the dry, prepared pine wood that lay near. Then she took from the hook the kettle that hung by a chain against the wall and filled it half full of water, which she drew from a pump that stood directly beside the hearth. She sought and soon found whatever else was needed for the preparation of the evening meal. She was uncertain of the number for whom she was to provide. She finally concluded that six would be the correct number: Lambert's parents, his brother Conrad, of whom he had spoken a couple of times, Lambert himself, and perhaps there might be another member of the family, or they might bring a guest with them. When she had finished this work she began to put the room in order, but only what would come right with but little labor. "For," said she, "I have no right to do it, and they might be displeased with me."

She had thus quietly labored for a quarter of an hour, and as there was for the moment nothing more to do and the water in the kettle was boiling, she went to the hearth and looked at the flaming fire, thinking that it must at least be time for Lambert to return. She heard a noise behind her. She turned half around and was greatly frightened when she saw, but a few steps from her, instead of Lambert, a stranger staring at her without moving, with a look of such wonder, as though he did not believe his own eyes. The light of the pine sticks burning with a bright flame fell full upon him. It was fortunate for Catherine that, the same moment, she saw that the giant-like man, clothed in a peculiar half-farmer, half-Indian garb, was quite young, and that his sunburned face was handsome, and that his great, wondering eyes had a merry look.

And now the young giant leaned his rifle, which he had allowed to slip to the floor, against the table, gave his strong hands a ringing slap, broke out in very loud laughter, threw himself into a chair which cracked in spite of its strong construction, sprang up again and approached the maiden, who drew back somewhat, again began to laugh, though not so loud, then was silent, shook his short, brown locks and said:

"Lambert has done this well; but where is the other one?"

Catherine did not answer. She did not know what to think of the words of the young man though they affected her disagreeably, and her heart began to beat powerfully.

The young giant looked about the room as though searching whether any one were hidden there. He then again directed his glances toward Catherine, but with a different expression in the large eyes which now shone with a deeper light. He said through his white teeth:

"You are handsome, girl. I have never before seen anything so beautiful. What is your name?"

"Catherine," said the young maiden, who felt that she must say something. "Catherine Weise. You are Conrad, Lambert's brother. I see it by the resemblance. Your brother Lambert has been very kind to me--very kind. We have just arrived. He has gone to put the horse in the stable. I think he will soon be here. You should have met him. Will the others also come soon?"

"Who should come?" asked Conrad.

"Your parents," said Catherine. She said it very faintly, fear, increasing every moment, almost strangling her.

Conrad showed his white teeth. "Our parents!" cried he, "our parents! They are long since dead. You must be satisfied with us two."

"I will look for Lambert," said Catherine, and tried to pass Conrad to the door. Conrad stepped in her way.

"So," said he smiling provokingly, "then Lambert has brought you along for himself, the cunning fellow--and I must look further. Now, as for myself, I am the younger man and can wait a little; but one kiss, beautiful sister-in-law, that you must give me--that is the least."

He stretched out his powerful hands and with giant strength insolently drew the resisting girl to him and kissed her glowing cheeks.

At this moment the water, which for a long time had simmered, noisily, sissing and whizzing, poured over the edge of the kettle in a large swell into the fire which it almost extinguished. A thick, gray vapor, through which the light of the fire looked red, rose and filled the room. Catherine tore herself loose, or was torn loose, she could not tell which; but there were now two persons there struggling together, and the other might well be Lambert. She also thought she had heard Lambert call her name, and so again, as outside the evening wind fanned her cheeks glowing with anger and shame.

Within, the vapor had disappeared. Conrad, having disengaged himself with a powerful effort from his assailant, fell laughing on his neck.

"Lambert, dear, best Lambert!"

"Let me go!" said Lambert, freeing himself from the embrace. "Let me go. Catherine!"

He looked with wandering, anxious eyes about the poorly lighted room.

"She has gone out," said Conrad. "I will bring her again for you."

"No, no, I will, I must," called Lambert, already at the door. "At least take me along--I beg you, Conrad, let me. I will afterwards explain everything to you. Catherine! For the mercy of God! She may have fallen into the creek!"

"Stupid stuff!" said Conrad, who, less excited than his brother, had cast his eyes, sharp as those of a falcon, in every direction. "There she sits, there, do you see?"

"I will go to her alone."

"You may, so far as I am concerned. And Lambert, listen, have you not also brought me a wife?"

But Lambert was already hastening with beating heart to the place where he saw Catherine sit, or lie, he could not tell which, on account of the distance and the evening twilight which now prevailed.

Catherine had run straight forward from the hill on which the house stood until she saw the creek at her feet. She now ran along its edge, scarcely knowing what she wished to do, or whither to go, driven by the painful feeling that the man whom she had trusted as she did her God, had deceived her. She could not make it clear to herself. Everything had come so quickly--had passed like a shadow in the smoke and mist from the fire on the hearth. What she had conceived to be a family, consisted of two brothers fighting with each other--fighting on her account. And this was the end of her long pilgrimage, which she had begun in such a hopeful spirit--with a constantly increasing confidence--yes, at last with wonderful joyfulness. This the end! "O, my God, my God!" groaned the young girl, stopping and looking anxiously into the wilderness which in fearful silence surrounded her, the night with its gathering darkness settling down upon her. "O, my God, my God!"

A bridge, consisting of an immense tree trunk, led across the creek at the place where she now was. She had already set one foot on the dangerous crossing when it suddenly became dark before her eyes. Involuntarily she turned and sank back on her knees, laying her head against the trunk of the tree. Her senses forsook her.

Then, as if from a great distance, she heard her name called, "Catherine!" Again, but now quite near, "Catherine!" She opened her eyes. Near her in the grass kneeled Lambert. He had seized her powerless hands. His long, smooth, brown hair fluttered confusedly in the evening wind about his pale, anxious face.

"Catherine," he said again, "can you forgive me?" She looked at him. She wished to say: "Why have you done this to me?" But her heart was too full. Two large tears rolled down her cheeks. Others followed them unrestrained. She wished to withdraw her hands from those of Lambert. He, however, in his desperation, held her fast, and in a despairing voice, cried: "For God's sake, Catherine, listen to me. I meant it well. I wanted to tell you a hundred times, but I could not. I thought you would not so willingly go with me if you knew the actual state of things. I endured a great fear, as you may have perceived, when we passed through Albany and Schenectady and the valley of the Mohawk, where they all know me. I always went first into the houses to beg the people not to speak to you of my situation. To-day I left the road and came on through the woods so that nobody here on the creek should meet me. It was not right; it was very foolish; it was bad in me that I did not requite your confidence with confidence on my part; but I did not know how to help myself. For God's sake, forgive me, Catherine."

She had now withdrawn her hands and laid them across her breast. Lambert had risen. He brushed his hair from his face. With all the thoughts that crossed his brain, with all the feelings that filled his breast, he knew not what more he should say--what he had said.

"Catherine, believe me, oh, believe me! I had not thought when I reached New York that I should not return alone to my home. I will take you back again--will take you where you will. My uncle Christian Ditmar and his wife, my aunt, are old and childless and will be glad to have you; and Conrad and I will again live as we have hitherto. Conrad has ever been to me a kind and faithful brother, and he now feels very sorry that he has so offended you. We will both watch over you--watch over you all--as we always have here where we are the farthest settlers. However, as you will, Catherine, as you will."

She had now raised herself up, and, as she stood there in the light of the moon which had for some time risen above the edge of the forest, Lambert thought that the beloved maiden had never before appeared so beautiful.

She had folded her hands, and, not looking at Lambert, but upward, she said softly but firmly: "I will go with you, Lambert Sternberg--come what will."

They walked back toward the house, side by side, the moon shining in the deep blue sky with radiant clearness. From time to time Lambert cast sly glances at the beloved one. He had yet so much to tell her--so very much--but he would not speak since she herself was silent, and he knew that she could speak more beautifully than he had ever heard any one speak before. It was also so well and he was so thankful that at last the burden was lifted from his soul, and that she had forgiven him and would entirely forgive him when she learned how much he had suffered.

This Catherine had already perceived in the painful vehemence of a man otherwise so quiet and self-contained. She had felt it in the storm that had swept through her own soul. Now after the turmoil of the storm she was at peace. What had happened? Was everything that she silently hoped, lived upon, cherished, forever destroyed? Or, amid thunder-claps, did a new world bloom far more beautiful than she had ever dreamed?

Thus, lost in their own peculiar thoughts, they again reached the house.

"Do you come at last?" said Conrad.

He was standing in the door which he now opened wide for the two. Then he gave his hand to Catherine and his brother and greeted them for the first time. "You before took me so by surprise," said he, "that I did not know where my head stood. In what a confusion everything about here lay! It had become somewhat disordered during the two months that you, Lambert, was away. You know I do not well understand housekeeping. I came home a couple of hours ago, having been upon Black River for eight days after beaver. However, instead of beaver I found Onondagas, whose manner was far from friendly--the cursed scoundrels. I went to Uncle Ditmar's who had, meanwhile, kept our cows. Bless has calved. Ditmar will keep the calf if you do not wish to raise it. Take seats here. I have meanwhile rearranged the evening meal as well as I could after my awkward interference. There is baked ham, your favorite dish, Lambert."

Conrad was unusually busy while he thus spoke. He set the chairs to the table, pulled them back, that he might wipe them off with his brown hand, and then set them up again. Again and again he put wood on the fire, so that the fire crackled and the flame went roaring up the chimney. For no definite reason, except that it had to be so, he kicked his wolfhound, Pluto, while she, having just come in, kept blinking at Catherine with her large yellow eyes. He himself did not look at the strange girl, and when his glance accidentally passed over her face he became red and embarrassed, and speedily turned his eyes away again.

In this way he acted during the whole meal. He talked, stood up, sat down again, tried to put things in order, but brought them into greater confusion, so that Lambert became red in the face and thanked the Lord when he saw Catherine smiling in a friendly way. She thought she could interpret Conrad's conduct in his favor. It was apparent enough that it had not made an unfavorable impression on the young and beautiful girl. It cost her no trouble now and again to return a friendly word to his talk. Lambert was astonished, and it sounded strange to him as she once laughed in the same cheerful, soft tone in which she spoke. He had not heard her laugh once during her whole journey.

So he sat there full of thankful joy that everything had turned out so well after he had been very despondent and was filled with secret unrest like one who, having with difficulty escaped a great danger, does not venture to yield to the feeling of security and seems to feel the ground shaking under his feet.

But as the meal was now drawing to a close another care began to press upon him with increasing weight. During the journey, in the farm-houses which they entered, which were often very small, it had happened more than once that he had passed the night in the same room with the family and his companion. Two or three nights when they could reach no human habitation they had taken their rest in the forest, and he had seen the beloved maiden by the light of the camp-fire sleeping peacefully, while he looked up through the tops of the trees and thanked God that he was permitted to watch over her slumber. But this occurred on the journey--an unusual condition, which could not and should not last. There was in the upper story a store-room partitioned off, in which one of the brothers used to sleep, while the other had his simple couch in a small recess in the lower room. The brothers had hit upon this arrangement the preceding year, when the inroads of the French necessitated redoubled watchfulness. Afterwards, though the danger was over, they had kept up the custom until Lambert's departure. Lambert had thought of each room for Catherine, but Conrad had mentioned during the meal that, on his eight-days' excursion, he had learned that the French were stirring again. Consequently renewed watchfulness was necessary, and that since Lambert must be very tired from his journey, he would undertake the watch for that night.

"Then we will in turn both watch above," said Lambert after a pause. "Catherine will be satisfied for the night here below. To-morrow we will make a better arrangement for her. Is that satisfactory, Catherine?"

"Quite so," replied the young woman. "I saw in the recess sweet-smelling hay, and here is the beautiful white bear-skin; do not trouble yourselves. I shall get along all right. Good night."

She gave Lambert her hand and then Conrad, who looked on with surprise. He wondered at his brother, and followed him up the narrow stairway after they had bolted and barricaded the door.

Catherine watched them as they ascended, drew a deep breath, passed her hand over her forehead, and began to clear away the supper table, and to wash up and put away the dishes, that she might with better courage carry forward the work of reducing things to order which she had before timidly begun. This took a long time. Often she stood benumbed in the midst of her work with her hand pressed against her forehead. Her heart was so full she could have sat down and shed a flood of tears. At the same time a firm, unchecked serenity filled her soul, such as she had experienced when quite a young thing playing at forfeits when the band of children in their colored dresses wildly pursued each other.

Then awakened out of such strange dreams, she again quietly continued her work, and at last looked about the room with a self-satisfied air, since it had now assumed quite a different appearance. Having carefully put out the fire on the hearth, she sought her modest couch that she had prepared in the recess on the farther side of the large room.

Through the narrow port-holes in the thick plank wall there stole in streaks of the moon's rays, spreading about her a faint twilight. It was easy to breathe in the fresh forest exhalation which blew in at the openings and played about her cheeks. The brook purled uninterruptedly. From time to time there was a rustle, first gentle, then swelling out, and then again holding back like the tones of an organ. It was the solemn music of the primitive forest. She had already noticed this music on her journey when, sleeping under the trees on gathered moss, she, with dream-veiled, half-open eyes, saw Lambert sitting at the camp-fire. She could now also hear his step as he made the round of the gallery above. Conrad's tread would be heavier. Once he stopped directly over her head. Was he looking in the distance for the blood-thirsty enemies? or was he listening to the mocking-bird's wonderful song which she had for some time noticed coming from the forest in soft, sobbing tones, as the nightingale had warbled, over in her German home, in the linden tree at the gable of the parsonage. Then again it, shrieked like a vexatious parrot, or laughed like a magpie. This sounded quite ludicrous. Then it was no more the mockingbird's twofold, demon-like singing, but two human voices, and Lambert spoke in excited, suffering tones: "Catherine, can you forgive me?" and Conrad laughed, saying: "Catherine is not at all angry," and she had to smile, and with a smile on her lips she fell asleep.