CHAPTER VII.
THE CIVILITIES OF A LANDLORD'S PRETTY DAUGHTER.
A young man was seated alone at a well covered table in the large inn of the "Lion," and eating with that good appetite which is sure to fall to the share of a youth of twenty, after having roamed for a whole day through the valley and over the hills. Sometimes he cast an observant glance at the silver knives and forks: they are of the good old fashioned sort, when people did not grudge a little solid silver, though it brought no interest for their money. The young man—it is the Techniker, with whom we were in company yesterday at the Doctor's—lights a cigar, and smooths his thick light-brown beard with a small pocket brush; his face has strong lines, and his light brown hair, curls round a well-developed prominent forehead; his blue eyes are deep set, and have an expression of hearty cordiality; and his cheeks are full and fresh coloured.
A cool evening breeze blows in through the open oriel window, quickly dispersing the clouds of tobacco smoke.
"So you are smoking already, Herr Starr?—I suppose you don't want anything more to eat?" said a neatly dressed girl who entered the room at that moment. She wore a white apron and an embroidered stomacher; her figure was slender, flexible, and agile; her face full and oval, and her complexion bright; her brown fawnlike eyes had a shrewd expression; and three massive brown glossy plaits formed a crown on her head. It was Annele, the landlord's daughter.
The girl went on in a pleasant flow of words, saying—"You must make the best of it. We had no idea that you would dine at so late an hour."
"Everything is as good as possible. Sit down beside me for a few minutes, sister-in-law."
"I will, the moment I have cleared away everything. I cannot sit down in peace when everything is in such disorder."
"Yes, with you, everything must be as neat and tidy as yourself."
"Thank you for the compliment. I am glad you did not expend them all at the Doctor's."
"Now do return soon, for I have got much to tell you."
The young man continued alone for some time, and then the landlord's daughter came and seated herself opposite to him, with her knitting, and said, "Now tell me what you have got to say."
The young man told her, that he had this day accompanied the Doctor in his professional visits to hill and valley, and he could not sufficiently admire the deep insight he had acquired into the nature of the inhabitants. Their lives were, indeed, as the Doctor said, industrious and pious, and yet without any bigotry. "We were in three or four inns too today," said he. "Usually, when you enter a village inn, on a summer afternoon, you are sure to find a dissipated looking man, lolling at his ease on a bench behind the table, half asleep beside his glass of vapid beer or brandy; and the scamp of a fellow glares at the new arrival, and brags, and blusters, and abuses the world in general, in a confused manner. I have often seen this—but never here."
"Yes," said Annele, "our Doctor, who is also a magistrate, is very severe against drunkards, and we never give them anything to drink here."
The Techniker described the Doctor's disposition with great enthusiasm. Wherever he appeared the day seemed brighter, and even in the huts of poverty, his cordial sympathy brought consolation; and the confidence his nature inspired, and that breathed in every word he uttered, brought fresh courage everywhere.
Annele seemed rather embarrassed by this glowing description; and she only said, while pressing her knitting needles against her lips, "Yes, indeed, the Doctor is a true friend to his fellowcreatures."
"He is your friend, certainly, for he spoke very kindly of you."
"Really? But he only ventures to do so in the mountain paths: he dare not speak well of me at home. His wife and daughters would not allow him; and yet I except the wife, for she is truly kindhearted."
"And not the others? I should have thought——"
"I say nothing against any of them. I have no cause to speak ill of the people. God be praised! I don't need to obtain praise for myself by abusing others—'to get profit at other people's expense,' as Lenz's mother used to say, till it passed into a proverb. Hundreds of people are in the habit of going in and out of this house: they can proclaim in the streets, if they like, what we do, and an inn is an open house. We are not like many people who receive a guest for a few days only, and make the house clean and neat, and are all amiability to each other till the visit is over, and afterwards all is confusion and filth, and every one anxious to scratch out each other's eyes; and yet, when any one is passing the house, they can begin to play and sing, or seat themselves by the window with their work in their hand, and look amiable. I don't wish, however, to say a word against any one; I only wish to give you a hint that you had better not go so often up yonder. Forgive my interference, but you being the brother of my sister's husband makes me feel interested in you."
"I am very much obliged to you for your kindness."
"Where can my father be?" said the landlord's daughter, blushing.
"By the bye, where is your father?"
"He went out on particular business: he may come home at any minute. If he would only give up business altogether! Why should he continue such a life of toil? But he cannot live without it; and he always says—'Those who give up business very soon die.' Cares, and anxieties, and business, and occupation keep a man fresh and lively; and indeed I cannot understand how any one, with the use of their limbs, can sit down in the morning to play the piano, or wander about the house idle, singing silly tunes. To be always busy, and active, and stirring—that is the way to be healthy and happy. If, indeed, we reckon up what we women earn in money, it is certainly not much; but to know how to manage a house is worth something, too."
"Indeed it is," said the Techniker. "There is a vast amount of persevering industry in this country. Most of the clockmakers here actually work fourteen hours a-day. This is highly to their credit."
The girl looked at him in surprise. What on earth does he mean by always referring to the stupid clockmakers? Does he not understand, or does he not choose to understand, what I am aiming at?
A pause ensued, till the Techniker again asked—"Where is your mother?"
"She is in the garden gathering her crop of beans, which cannot be delayed. Come with me, and we will join her."
"No; let us stay where we are. Now, sister-in-law, as I venture to call you, is not the Doctor's eldest daughter, Amanda, an excellent, accomplished girl?"
"She!—Why should she not be excellent? She is old enough to be wise; and no one sees how crooked she is, for her dresses are so well made by a good milliner in the town."
Annele bit her lips when she had said this. She thought—"How stupid of me to say such a thing! As he has named Amanda, no doubt it is Bertha he fancies: it must be so." Breaking off, therefore, suddenly, she continued—"But Bertha is charming——"
"Yes, indeed, a most pleasing girl," interrupted the Techniker.
One of Annele's knittingneedles fell under the table, and he picked it up. The young man seemed to have repented having spoken out so freely; for he now said—"The Doctor was telling me yesterday all about Pilgrim."
"What is there to tell? The Doctor can make something out of nothing."
"Who is Petrowitsch? They tell me you know most about him."
"Not more than everyone knows. He dines here every forenoon, and pays his score regularly. He is a singular, crabbed old fellow—very rich and very hard. He was many, many years in foreign parts, and cares for no man living. There is only one thing in the world which gives him pleasure, and that is the avenue of cherry trees which line the valley towards the town. Formerly rows of pollards stood there, and Petrowitsch——"
"Why is he called Petrowitsch?"
"His real name is Peter; but, as he was so long in Servia, they will call him here Petrowitsch."
"Go on, and tell me about the avenue of cherry trees."
"Petrowitsch was in the habit of walking about with a knife in his hand, and pruning the superfluous branches off the trees; and one day the farm servant informed against him for destroying the trees. So he caused a whole avenue of new cherry trees to be planted at his own expense, and for the last six years he has pulled the unripe fruit, that the trees might not be injured by thieves, and they have made a fine growth; but he feels no interest in any man. See! there goes Lenz—his only brother's son, and he has never got from him as much as would go on the point of a needle."
"So that is Lenz? A good looking youth—an agreeable countenance—just what I had imagined him to be."
"Oh yes!—he is a very worthy young man, only rather too soft hearted. When he is passing along there, I know that two eyes from a new house are watching him, and would fain allure him in; and those eyes are Bertha's."
"So they understand each other, do they?" said the Techniker, his white forehead colouring to the roots of his hair.
"No; I never said anything of the kind. I dare say she would be very glad to marry him, for he has a nice property, and she has nothing but some fine Leghorn hats, and stockings in holes."
The landlord's daughter, or Lion-Annele, as she was called, inwardly rejoiced. "So! I have put salt enough in his soup!" And this pleasant thought restored her good humour.
The Techniker said that he was going out to take another walk.
"Where are you going?"
"Up yonder, towards the Spannreute."
"It is a very fine view from there, but as steep as the side of a house."
The Techniker went away, and Annele ran down into the garden behind the house and looked after him. He did, indeed, ascend the hill for a while, but he soon turned and went rapidly down the valley towards the Doctor's house.
"Go to the devil!" said Annele, in a rage. "From me you shall never more receive one civil word!"