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The German Classics of The Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Vol. VIII by Various

V >> Various >> The German Classics of The Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Vol. VIII




"That's you, Mrs. Behrens, that's you!" "I know," she answered sharply,
"but the ass in the third letter is intended for you, so neither of us
need laugh at the other. But now, Braesig, you see that it's quite
necessary that I should get hold of the little wretch, and box his ears
well for him." "You're quite right, and it's easily managed. Listen. You
and I must hide at the bottom of the garden at eight o'clock this
evening; at half past eight, Louisa must take her place in the ditch,
and you'll see that he'll come like a bear to wild honey; and then we'll
spring out upon him, and take him prisoner before he knows where he is."
"That won't do at all, Braesig. If I were going to act in that sort of
way I shouldn't require your help. It would be a great misfortune if
Louisa were ever to know anything about this, and I'd rather that
neither Hawermann nor even my pastor should hear of it." "H'm, h'm!"
said Braesig. "Then * * * then * * * Stop! I have it now. Mrs. Behrens,
you must make yourself as thin as possible, put on Louisa's clothes, and
go to the _randyvoo_ in her stead. Then, as soon as he is seated by your
side, and is on the point of kissing you, you must seize him by the
scruff of the neck, and hold on till I come." "Nay, Braesig, that would
never do!" "Don't you think so, Mrs. Behrens? You understand that if he
doesn't see his sweet-heart in the ditch, you'll never manage to
inveigle him there; and if we don't nab him unexpectedly, we'll never
succeed in catching him, for he's a long-legged, thin-flanked
gray-hound, and if it came to a race, we'd be nowhere with our short
legs and round bodies." It was quite true; but no! she go to a
_rendezvous_? And Braesig was very stupid, how could she ever get into
Louisa's gown? But Braesig would not be convinced, he maintained that it
was the only way in which she could get the interview she wanted with
her nephew, and assured her that all she had to do was to put on
Louisa's shawl and Leghorn hat, and then go and sit on the edge of the
ditch. "You must remember to sit down," he continued, "for if you remain
standing he will see at once that you're a foot shorter, and at least a
foot broader than Louisa." At last--at last Mrs. Behrens allowed herself
to be persuaded, and when she went out at the back-door about eight
o'clock that evening, wearing Louisa's shawl and hat, the parson who was
standing at his study-window thinking over his sermon, said to himself
wonderingly: "What on earth is Regina doing with Louisa's hat and shawl?
And there's Braesig coming out of the arbor. He must want to speak to me
about something--but it's a very odd thing altogether!"

Mrs. Behrens went down the garden path with Braesig feeling ready for
anything that might befall. She opened the garden-gate and went out
alone, leaving Braesig squatted under the hedge like a great toad, but no
sooner was she by herself than her courage oozed away, and she said:
"Come to the ditch with me, Braesig, you're too far away there, and must
be close at hand to help me when I've caught him." "All right!" said
Braesig, and he accompanied her to the ditch.

Canal-like ditches such as this are no longer to be found in all the
country-side, for the thorough system of drainage to which the land has
been subjected has done away with their use; but every farmer will
remember them in the old time. They were from fifteen to twenty feet
wide at the top, but tapered away till quite narrow at the bottom, and
were fringed with thorns and other bushwood. They were generally dry
except in spring and autumn, when there was a foot or a foot and half of
water in them, or in summer for a day or two after a thunder-storm. That
was the case now. "Braesig hide yourself behind that thorn so that you
may come to the rescue at once." "Very well," said Braesig. "But, Mrs.
Behrens," he continued after a pause, "you must think of a signal to
call me to your help." "Yes," she said. "Of course! But what shall it
be? Wait! when I say: _'The Philistines be upon thee,'_ spring upon
him." "I understand, Mrs. Behrens!"

"Goodness gracious me!" thought the clergyman's wife.

[Illustration: BETWEEN DANCES BENJAMIN VAUTIER]

"I feel as if I were quite a Delilah. Going to a _rendezvous_ at half
past eight in the evening! At my age too! Ah me, in my old age I'm going
to do what I should have been ashamed of when I was a girl." Then aloud.
"Braesig don't puff so loud any one could hear you a mile off." Resuming
her soliloquy: "And all for the sake of a boy, a mischievous wretch of a
boy. Good gracious! If my pastor knew what I was about!" Aloud. "What
are you laughing at, Braesig? I forbid you to laugh, it's very silly of
you." "I didn't laugh, Mrs. Behrens." "Yes, you _did,_ I heard you
distinctly." "I only yawned, Mrs. Behrens, it's such frightfully slow
work lying here." "You oughtn't to yawn at such a time. I'm trembling
all over. Oh, you little wretch, what misery you have caused me! I can't
tell any one what you've made me suffer, and must just bear it in
silence. It was God who sent Braesig to my help." Suddenly Braesig
whispered in great excitement, his voice sounding like the distant cry
of a corn-crake: "Mrs. Behrens, draw yourself out till you're as long as
Lewerenz's child;[9] make yourself as thin as you possibly can, and put
on a pretty air of confusion, for I see him coming over the crest of the
hill. His figure stands out clearly against the sky." Little Mrs.
Behrens felt as if her heart had stopped beating and her anger waxed
hotter against the boy who had brought her into such a false position.
She was so much ashamed of herself for being where she was, that she
would most assuredly have run away if Braesig had not laughed again, but
as soon as she heard that laugh, she determined to stay and show him
that he was engaged in a much more serious undertaking than he seemed to
imagine.

It was quite true that Braesig had laughed this time, for he saw a second
and then a third black figure following the first down the hill. "Ha,
ha, ha!" he chuckled in his hiding-place in the thorn-bush, "there's
Charles Hawermann too! I declare the whole overseeing force of
Puempelhagen is coming down here to see how the peas are growing in the
dusk of evening. It's as good as a play!" Mrs. Behrens did not see the
others, she only saw her sister's son who was coming rapidly toward her.
He hastened over the bridge, ran along the bank, sprang to her side, and
threw his arms round her neck, exclaiming: "Sweet angel!" "Oh you wicked
little wretch!" cried his aunt trying to seize him in the way Braesig had
desired her, but instead of that she only caught hold of the collar of
his coat. Then she called out as loudly as she could: "The Philistines
be upon thee!" and immediately Braesig the Philistine started to his
feet. Confound it! His foot had gone to sleep! But never mind! He hopped
down the bank as quickly as he could, taking into consideration that one
leg felt as if it had a hundred-and-eighty pound weight attached to the
end of it, but just as he was close upon his prey he tripped over a low
thorn-bush and tumbled right into the foot and a half of water. And
there he sat as immovably as if he had gone back to the hydropathic
establishment, and were in the enjoyment of a sitz-bath! Fred stood as
if he had been turned to stone, and felt as though he were suffering
from a douche-bath, for his dear aunt was clutching him tightly and
scolding him to her heart's content: "The dragon has caught you now my
boy! Yes, the dragon has caught you!" "And here comes the ass," shouted
Braesig picking himself out of the water and running toward him. But Fred
had now recovered from his astonishment. He shook himself free from his
aunt, and darting up the bank would have escaped had he not at the same
moment encountered a new enemy--Frank. In another second Hawermann had
joined them, and Mrs. Behrens had scarcely recovered from the shock of
seeing him, when her pastor came up, and said: "What's the matter,
Regina? What does all this mean?" The poor little lady's consternation
was indescribable, but Braesig, from whose clothes the water was running
in streams, was too angry to hold his tongue, and exclaimed: "You
confounded rascal! You gray-hound!" giving Fred a hearty dig in the ribs
as he spoke. "It's all your fault that I shall have another attack of
gout. But now, I'll tell you what, every one shall know what a d----d
Jesuit you are. Hawermann, he * * *" "For God's sake," cried Mrs.
Behrens, "don't attend to a single word that Braesig says. Hawermann, Mr.
von Rambow, the whole thing is ended and done with. It's all over now,
and what has still to be done or said can quite well be managed by my
pastor alone; it's a family matter and concerns no one but ourselves.
Isn't that the case, my dear Fred? It's merely a family matter I assure
you, and no one has anything to do with it but we two. But now, come
away, my boy, we'll tell my pastor all about it. Good-night, Mr. von
Rambow. Good-night, Hawermann, Fred will soon follow you. Come away,
Braesig, you must go to bed at once."

And so she managed to disperse the assembly. The two who were left in
ignorance of what had happened, went home separately, shaking their
heads over the affair. Hawermann was indignant with his two young
people, and put out because he was to have no explanation of their
conduct. Frank was mistrustful of everyone; he had recognized Louisa's
hat and shawl in spite of the darkness, and thought that the mystery
must have something to do with her, though how he was unable to
conjecture.

Fred was much cast down in spirit. The clergyman and his wife went on in
front of him, and the latter told her husband the whole story from
beginning to end, scolding her hopeful nephew roundly the whole time.
The procession moved on toward the parsonage, and as the evil-doer
guessed that a bad half-hour awaited him there, he had serious thoughts
of making his escape while it was possible, but Braesig came as close up
to him as if he had known what he was thinking of, and that only made
him rage and chafe the more inwardly. When Braesig asked Mrs. Behrens who
it was that had come up in the nick of time, and she had answered that
it was Frank, Triddelfitz stood still and shaking his fist in the
direction of Puempelhagen, said fiercely "I am betrayed, and _she_ will
be sold, sold to that man because of his rank and position!" "Boy!"
cried Mrs. Behrens, "will you hold your tongue!" "Hush, Regina," said
her husband, who had now a pretty good idea of what had taken place,
"now please go in and see that Braesig's room is prepared, and get him
sent to bed as quickly as you can. I will remain here and speak to
Fred."

This was done. The parson appealed to Fred's common sense, but his sense
of injury far exceeded that other, and his spirit seethed and boiled
like wine in the process of fermentation. He put aside all the
clergyman's gentle arguments, and declared passionately that his own
aunt had determined to destroy the whole happiness of his life, and that
she cared more for the rich aristocrat than for her sister's son.

Within the house matters were going on in the same unsatisfactory
manner; uncle Braesig refused to go to bed in spite of all Mrs. Behren's
entreaties. "I can't," he said, "that is to say, I can, but I musn't do
it; for I must go to Rexow. I had a letter from Mrs. Nuessler saying that
she wanted my help." The same yeast which had caused Fred to seethe and
boil over was working in him, but more quietly, because it had been a
part of his being for a longer time. At last, however, he was persuaded
to go to bed as a favor to Mrs. Behrens, and from fear of bringing on an
attack of gout by remaining in his wet things, but his thoughts were as
full of anxious affection for Mrs. Nuessler as Fred's were of love for
Louisa when on leaving the parsonage he exclaimed passionately: "Give
her up, does he say! Give her up! The devil take that young sprig of the
nobility!"

Next day--it was Sunday morning--when Braesig awoke, he gave himself a
comfortable stretch in the soft bed. "A luxury," he said to himself,
"that I've never before enjoyed, but I suppose one would soon get
accustomed to it." Just as he was about to get up the house-maid came
in, and taking possession of his clothes, placed a black coat, waistcoat
and pair of trousers over the back of a chair in their stead.

"Ho, ho!" he said with a laugh as he examined the black suit, "it's
Sunday, and this is a parsonage; but surely they never think that I'm
going to preach today!" He lifted one article of clothing after the
other curiously, and then said: "Ah! I see now, it's because mine were
wet through in the ditch last night, so they've given me a suit
belonging to his Reverence. All right then!--here goes." But it did not
go so easily after all! And as for comfort, that was totally out of the
question. The trousers were a very good length, but were frightfully
tight. The lower buttons of the waistcoat could neither be coaxed nor
forced into the button-holes, and when he put on the coat, there was an
ominous cracking somewhere between the shoulders. As for his arms, they
stood out from his body as if he were prepared to press the whole world
to his faithful heart on this particular Sunday.

After he was dressed he went down stairs, and joined Mrs. Behrens in the
parlor. As to his legs, he looked and walked very much as he had done
ever since he had received his pension; but as to the upper part of his
body! Mrs. Behrens burst out laughing when she saw him, and immediately
took refuge behind the breakfast table, for he advanced with his arms
outstretched as if he wished to make her the first recipient of his
world-embrace. "Keep away from me, Braesig!" she laughed. "If I had ever
imagined that my pastor's good clothes would have looked so ridiculous
on you I'd have let you remain in bed till dinner-time, for your own
things won't be washed and dried before that." "Oh, ho!" laughed Braesig,
"that was the reason you sent me these things, was it? I thought perhaps
you wanted to dress me up for another _randyvoo_ today." "Now, just
listen to me, Braesig!" said little Mrs. Behrens, blushing furiously. "I
forbid you to make such jokes. And when you're going about in the
neighborhood--you have nothing to do now except to carry gossip from one
house to another--if you ever tell any one about that wretched
_rendezvous_ of last night--I'll never speak to you again." "Mrs.
Behrens, you may trust me not to do that," here he went nearer the
clergyman's wife with both arms outstretched, and she once more
retreated behind the table. "Indeed, you've nothing to fear. I'm not a
Jesuit." "No, Braesig, you're an old heathen, but you arn't a Jesuit. But
if you say anything about it * * * Oh me! Hawermann must be told, my
pastor says so. But if he asks about it, don't mention my name, please.
Oh, dear! If the Pomuchelskopps were ever to hear of it, I should be the
most miserable of women. God knows, Braesig, that what I did, I did for
the best, and for the sake of that innocent child. I've sacrificed
myself for her." "That's quite true," answered Braesig with conviction,
"and so don't let fretting over it give you any gray hairs. Look here.
If Charles Hawermann asks me how you came to be there, I'll say--I'll
say--h'm!--I'll say that you had arranged a _randyvoo_ with me." "_You!_
Fie, for shame!" "Nay, Mrs. Behrens, I don't see that. Am I not as good
as the young gray-hound any day? And don't our ages suit better?" And as
he spoke he looked as innocently surprised at her displeasure as if he
had proposed the best possible way out of the difficulty. Mrs. Behrens
looked at him dubiously, and then said, folding her hands on her lap:
"Braesig, I'll trust to you to say nothing you ought not to say. But
Braesig--dear Braesig, do nothing absurd. And * * * and * * * come and sit
down, and drink a cup of coffee." She took hold of his stiff arm and
drew him to the table, much as a miller draws the sails of a windmill
when he wants to set it going.

"Thank you," said Braesig. He managed to get hold of the handle of the
cup after a struggle, and lifted it as if he were a juggler and the cup
were at least a hundred pounds in weight, and as if he wanted to make
sure that all the audience saw it properly. Then he tried to sit down,
but the moment he bent his knees a horrible cracking noise was heard,
and he drew himself up again hastily--whether it was the chair or the
trousers that cracked he did not know. He therefore drank his coffee
standing, and said: it didn't matter, for he hadn't time to sit down, he
must go to Mrs. Nuessler at once because of her letter. Mrs. Behrens
implored him to wait until his clothes were dry, but in vain; Mrs.
Nuessler's slightest wish was regarded by him as a command, and was
inscribed as such in the order-book of his conscience. So he set out for
Rexow along the Puempelhagen road, the long tails of his clerical garment
floating behind him. His progress was as slow and difficult as that of a
young rook learning to fly.

As he passed Puempelhagen, Hawermann saw him, and called him to stop,
adding: "Bless me, Zachariah, why are you dressed so oddly?" "An
accident, nothing but an accident. You remember that I fell into the
muddy water in the ditch last night. But I hav'n't time to stop now, I
must go to your sister." "My sister's business can wait better than
mine, Braesig. I've noticed lately that a great many things are going on
behind my back that I'm not wanted to know. It wouldn't have mattered so
much, but that I saw last night that both the parson and his wife are
better informed than I am, and that these good people want to hide the
true state of the case from me out of the kindness of their hearts."
"You're right, Charles. It is out of kindness." "Certainly, Braesig, and
I am not mistrustful of them, but I can't help thinking that it's
something that concerns me very nearly, and that I ought to know. What
were you doing yesterday evening?" "I, Charles? I was just having a
_randyvoo_ with Mrs. Behrens in the ditch." "And the parson?" "We knew
nothing of what brought him, Charles. He took us by surprise when he
came." "What had Mr. von Rambow to do with it?" "He caught your
gray-hound by the scruff of the neck, and perhaps threw me into the
water by accident." "_What_ _had Fred Triddelfitz to do with it?_"
asked Hawermann impressively, "and what had Louisa's hat and shawl got
to do with it?" "Nothing more than that they didn't fit Mrs. Behrens at
all, for she's far too stout to wear them." "Zachariah," said Hawermann,
stretching his hand toward his friend over the low hedge, "you are
trying to put me off. _Won't_ you tell me what is the matter, we are
such old friends--or is it that you must not tell me?" "The devil take
the _randyvoo_ and Mrs. Behrens' anxiety," cried Braesig, seizing
Hawermann's hand and shaking it vehemently over the hedge and amongst
the tall nettles that grew there, till the smart of the stings made them
both draw back. "I'll tell you, Charles. The parson's going to tell you
himself, so why shouldn't I? Fred Triddelfitz fell in love with you
sometime ago, most likely because of the good fatherly advice you have
often given him, and now it seems his love for you has passed on to your
daughter. Love always passes on, for example with me from your sister to
Mina." "Do be serious, Braesig!" "Am I not always in earnest, Charles,
when I speak of your sister and Mina?" "I am sure you are," cried
Hawermann, seizing his friend's hand again in spite of the nettles,
"but, tell me, what had Frank to do with it?" "I think that he must have
fallen in love with you too, and that his love has also passed on from
you to your daughter." "That would be a great pity," cried Hawermann, "a
very great pity. God only knows how it's to be stopped." "I'm not so
sure, Charles, that you're right in thinking it a misfortune, for he has
two estates * * *" "Don't talk about that, Braesig, but come in and tell
me all that you know."

As soon as Braesig had told as much as he knew of the affair, he set off
down the footpath that led to Rexow. Hawermann stood and watched him
till he was out of sight, and then said to himself: "He's a good man,
his heart's in the right place, and if I find that it is so, I will * *
* but * * * but * * *!" He was not thinking of Braesig when he said this,
but of Frank.

[When uncle Braesig had reached Rexow, he was consulted on a matter of
great consequence. Two young nephews of Joseph Nuessler, Godfrey Baldrian
and Rudolph Kurz, had asked permission to spend the weeks before their
examinations--both were students of theology--at Rexow. Should they be
invited to come? Godfrey was all right, a serious-minded youth, but
Rudolph, although a good sort of a fellow, was frivolous, he had even
fought a duel in Rostock for the sake of a merchant's pretty daughter.
Was there any danger of Lina and Mina falling in love? "Braesig," Joseph
said, "you see it might quite well happen, and what are we as their
parents to do?" "Let them alone, Joseph!" he replied. "Why does God send
young folks into the world, if he does not intend them to love each
other? But the little round-heads!" His advice was finally taken, and
the two young men were soon settled at the Nuessler home. At first
everything went well, but after a while difficulties arose, and uncle
Braesig was again called upon for advice.]

Braesig went to Rexow that morning to see Mrs. Nuessler as he had
intended. The crown-prince was in the doorway when he arrived, and came
forward to meet him with such a hearty wag of the tail that any one
would have thought him a most christian-minded dog, and would have
imagined that he had quite forgiven Braesig the fright he had given him
the last time he was at Rexow. There was a look of such quiet
satisfaction in his yellow brown eyes that one would have thought that
everything was going on well in the house; that Mrs. Nuessler was busy in
the kitchen, and that Joseph was comfortably seated in his own
particular arm-chair. But it was not so. When Braesig went into the
parlor he certainly found Joseph in his old place, but Mrs. Nuessler was
standing in front of him, and was giving him a lecture about caring for
nothing, and never interfering when things were going wrong, although it
was his duty to do so. As soon as she saw Braesig, she went up to him
and said angrily: "And _you_ keep out of the way, Braesig. Every one may
be standing on their heads here for anything _you_ care, and it's all
your fault that we ever took those two lads into the house." "Gently,"
said Braesig. "Gently! Don't excite yourself, Mrs. Nuessler! Well what's
all this about the divinity students?" "A very great deal! But I should
never have said a word about it, for they're Joseph's relations, and
'it's an ill bird that soils its own nest!' There has been no peace or
comfort in the house since the two young men have been here, and if it
goes on like this much longer, I'm afraid that I shall have a quarrel
with Joseph himself." "Mother," said young Joseph, "what can I do?"
"Hold your tongue, young Joseph," cried Braesig, "it's all your fault.
Why didn't you teach them better manners?" "Come, come, Braesig," said
Mrs. Nuessler, "just leave Joseph to me if you please, and remember it's
your fault this time. You promised to keep an eye on the young men, and
see that they didn't get into mischief, and instead of that, you let one
of them do what he likes and never trouble your head to see what he's
after, while you encourage the other to spend all his time in fishing
and such like nonsense, instead of minding his books, so that he's
always out in the fields, and comes home in the evening with a lot of
perch about the length of my finger, and when I think the day's work is
over, I'm expected to go back to the kitchen and cook that trash!"
"What!" cried Braesig. "Does he only bring you in such tiny little fish?
That's queer now, for I've shown him all the best pools for catching
large perch. Then you must * * *! Just wait!" "I'll tell you,"
interrupted Mrs. Nuessler, "you must forbid him to fish, for he didn't
come here to do that. His father sent him here to learn something, and
he's coming to see him this very afternoon." "Well, Mrs. Nuessler," said
Braesig, "I can't help admiring the persistency with which he has
followed my advice about fishing. Hasn't he done anything else though?"
"A great deal, both of them have done a great deal. I've never spoken
about it because they're Joseph's relations, and at first everything
went on _pretty_ well. It was an idle, merry life at first; my two
little girls were very much brightened up by the change and all went on
smoothly. Mina here, and Rudolph there, Lina here, and Godfrey there.
They talked sense with Godfrey and nonsense with Rudolph. The two lads
worked away properly at their books in the morning; Godfrey indeed
sometimes read so long that it gave him a headache, and Rudolph did
quite a fair amount of study. But that did not last long. They soon
began to quarrel and wrangle about theological questions, and Godfrey,
who knows more than the other, said that Rudolph did not speak from a
Christian standpoint." "Did he say 'standpoint'?" put in Braesig. "Yes,
that was his very word," answered Mrs. Nuessler. "Oho!" said Braesig. "I
think I hear him. While other people end with standpoint, Methodists
always begin with it. And then I suppose he wanted to convert him?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Nuessler. "That's just what he wanted to do. But you see
the other lad is much cleverer than Godfrey, and made so many jokes
about all that he said, that at last Godfrey quite lost his temper, and
so the discomfort in the house grew worse and worse. I don't know how it
was, but my two girls mixed themselves up in the quarrel. Lina who is
the gravest and most sensible took Godfrey's side of the argument, and
Mina laughed and giggled over Rudolph's jokes." "Yes," interrupted
Joseph, "it's all according to circumstances!" "You ought to be ashamed
of yourself, young Joseph," said Braesig, "for allowing such a Hophnei to
remain in the house." "Nay, Braesig," said Mrs. Nuessler, "let Joseph
alone, he did his best to make matters comfortable again. When Godfrey
talked about the devil till we all felt quite eerie, Joseph believed in
his existence; and when Rudolph laughed at, and ridiculed all belief in
him, Joseph laughed as heartily as anyone. When the dispute ran highest,
my little Mina took all Godfrey's books to Rudolph's room, and all
Rudolph's to Godfrey's, and when the young men looked rather cross, she
said quickly, that they'd better both study the subject thoroughly, and
then perhaps they might agree better about it than at present." "Mina's
a clever little woman," cried Braesig. "Well," continued Mrs. Nuessler,"
they didn't like it at all at first; but whatever Godfrey's faults may
be, he's a good-natured lad, so he began to study Rudolph's books. And
the other at last set to work at Godfrey's, for you see it was wintry
weather and it gave him something to do. You should have seen them a
short time afterward! They had changed as much as their books. Godfrey
made poor jokes about the devil, and Rudolph sighed and groaned, and
spoke of the devil as if he knew him intimately, and as if he were
accustomed to sit down to dinner with us every day and to eat his
potatoes like any other honest man. Then my little girls turned right
round. Mina took Godfrey's part; and Lina took Rudolph's, for Rudolph
said that Godfrey didn't speak from a Christian standpoint." "Ugh!" said
Braesig, "he oughtn't to have said that. But wait a bit! Is he really
that sort of fellow, and can't he ever catch a good-sized perch?" "And
then," cried Mrs. Nuessler indignantly, "they were all at sixes and
sevens again, because of that horrible perch fishing, for as soon as
spring returned and the perch began to bite, Rudolph cared no more about
the Christian standpoint. He took his fishing-rod, and went out after
you all day long. The other went back to his old opinion about the
existence of the devil, you see he was preparing for his examination and
couldn't get through it properly without that. My two girls didn't know
which of their cousins to trust to." "They're a couple of rascals,"
cried Braesig, "but it's all the Methodist's fault, what business had he
to bother the other about the devil and the Christian standpoint?" "No,
no, Braesig, I've nothing to say against him for that. He has learnt
something, has passed his examination, and may be ordained any day. But
Rudolph does nothing at all, he only makes mischief in the house." "Why,
what has he been after now? Has he been fishing for whitings?" asked
Braesig raising his eyebrows. "Whitings!" said Mrs. Nuessler scornfully.
"He has been fishing for a sermon. You must know that Mrs. Baldrian
wanted to hear her son preach, so she asked the clergyman at Rahnstaedt
to let him preach in his church, and he said he might do so. She then
went and told her sister what she had done, and Mrs. Kurz was very much
put out that her son wasn't as far on as his cousin, so she went to the
old parson too and asked him to allow Rudolph to preach for him some day
soon. Well the clergyman was so far left to himself as to arrange that
Rudolph should preach on the same day as Godfrey. The two young men had
a great argument as to which was to have the forenoon and which the
afternoon, but at last it was settled that Rudolph should preach in the
morning. Well, Godfrey set to work as hard as he could, and spent the
whole day from morning till evening in the arbor. As he has a bad memory
he learnt his sermon by repeating it aloud. Rudolph did nothing but
amuse himself as usual, till the two last days, when he seated himself
on the grass bank behind the arbor, and seemed to be thinking over his
sermon. On the Sunday morning, Joseph drove the two young clergymen and
us to Rahnstaedt. We went into the parsonage pew, and I can assure you I
was in a great fright about Rudolph, but the rogue stood there as calmly
as if he were quite sure of himself, and when the time came for him to
preach, he went up into the pulpit and began his sermon. He got on so
well that every one listened attentively, and I was so pleased with the
boy that I turned to whisper to Godfrey, who sat next to me, how
relieved and overjoyed I was, when I saw that he was moving about
restlessly in his seat, and looking as if he would like to jump up and
pull Rudolph out of the pulpit: 'Aunt,' he said, 'that is my sermon.'
And so it was, Braesig. The little wretch had got it by heart from
hearing his cousin learning it aloud in the arbor." "Ha, ha, ha!"
laughed Braesig. "What a joke! What a capital joke!" "Do you call it a
_joke_?" said Mrs. Nuessler angrily. "Do you call playing a trick like
that in God's house a joke?" "Ha, ha, ha!" roared Braesig. "I know that
it's wicked to laugh, and I know that only the devil could have prompted
the lad to play such a trick, but I can't help it, I must laugh at it
all the same." "Oh, of course," said Mrs. Nuessler crossly, "of course
_you_ do nothing but laugh while we are like to break our hearts with
grief and anger." "Never mind me," said Braesig soothingly, "tell me,
what did the Methodist do? Ha, ha, ha! I'd have given a good deal for a
sight of his face!" "You would, would you? Of course he couldn't preach
the same sermon in the afternoon, so the parson had to give his people
one of his old sermons over again; but he was very angry, and said that
if he chose to make the circumstance public, Rudolph might go and hang
himself on the first willow he came across." "But the Methodist?" "The
poor fellow was miserable, but he didn't say a word. However his mother
said enough for two, and she spoke so harshly to her sister Mrs. Kurz
about what had happened, that they're no longer on speaking terms. There
was a frightful quarrel. I was both ashamed and angry at the way they
went on, for both Baldrian and Kurz joined in the squabble, and even
Joseph began to mix himself up in it, but fortunately our carriage drove
up, and I got him away as quickly as I could." "What did the duelist
say?" "Oh, the wretch was wise enough to run away here as soon as he had
concluded his stolen sermon." "And you gave him a regular good scolding,
I suppose," said Braesig. "Not I indeed," said Mrs. Nuessler decidedly. "I
wasn't going to put my finger in that pie. His father is coming today
and he is 'the nearest' to him, as Mrs. Behrens would say; and I've told
Joseph that he's not to mix himself up in the affair or to talk about it
at all. He's quite changed latterly. He has got into the habit of
putting up his back and meddling with things with which he has nothing
to do. Now just keep quiet, Joseph." "Yes, Joseph, hold your tongue,"
said Braesig. "And my two girls," continued Mrs. Nuessler, "are quite
different from what they used to be. Since that unlucky sermon their
eyes have always been red with crying, and they've gone about the house
as quietly as mice. They hardly ever say a word to each other now,
though they used never to be separate, and when one of them was happy or
unhappy the other had to know all about it immediately. My household is
all at odds." "Mother," said young Joseph rising from his chair with a
look of determination, "that's just what I say, and I _will_ speak;
you'll see that the boys have put it into their heads." "What have they
put into their heads, Joseph?" asked Mrs. Nuessler crossly. "Love
affairs," said Joseph, sinking back into his corner. "My dear mother
always used to say that when a divinity student and a governess were in
the same house * * * And you'll see the truth of it with Godfrey and
Mina." "Law, Joseph! How you do talk to be sure! May God preserve you in
your right mind! That's all nonsense, but if it were the case, the
divinity student should leave the house at once and Rudolph too. Come
away, Braesig, I've got something to say to you."