CHAPTER XIX.
FIRST VISIT TO A NEW HOUSE.
The first person who came to wish Annele joy was Faller. She, indeed, looked down with considerable condescension on the poor creature; but his humility pleased her; and Faller could not make a sufficient number of apologies for coming so soon, but he had no rest till he came, for he was attached with all his heart to Lenz, for whom he would give his life.
"I am glad that my bridegroom has such good friends, but every man can provide for himself in this world, be he whom he may."
Faller did not perceive this last hit at him, or affected not to do so, and began enthusiastically to depict the excellence of Lenz's heart. Tears stood in his eyes, and he ended by saying:—"Annele, he has a heart like an angel!—like that of a newly born child. For God's sake never be harsh to him, or you would sin against God. Never forget that you have a husband to whom every sharp word is like a stab from a knife. He is not passionate, but his feelings are very sensitive. Do not take amiss my telling you this—I do so from the best of motives. I would gladly serve him if I could, and I don't know how. You are indeed favoured by God to be chosen by such a man; but go gently to work with him—very gently and kindly."
"Have you done at last?" asked Annele, her eyes flashing; "or have you got anything more to say?"
"No; I have finished."
"Now I will say something to you in return. You have been so forward and impertinent, that you deserve to have the door shut in your face. What do you mean?—how dare you speak in such a manner to me?—who asked you to interfere?—how can you suspect me of being hard? But it is lucky, very lucky that I know this so soon; now I see what sort of beggars hang about my Lenz. But I will soon make a clean sweep of the whole lot. The day when you could wheedle him by your hypocrisy and fine words is at an end. I make you a present of the wine you have drunk. Now go along, I will, however, repeat to my Lenz what you have presumed to say to me, and it shall be stored up against you."
In vain did Faller protest his innocence of all evil intentions: he begged pardon, and conjured her to listen to him; but it was all no use. Annele showed him the door—so at last he left her, and Annele did not vouchsafe him even a parting glance.
Soon after Faller came Franzl, beaming with joy. The mother took her forthwith into the back parlour. Franzl had been rejoicing that she had managed this affair, and thought she could now die happy; but it proved, to her consternation, that she had ascribed to herself much more merit than she deserved, and now she got none at all. The Landlady soon made her feel her mistake by saying—"Well, Franzl, what do you think about this? You had nothing to do with the affair, and I quite as little. The young people were sharper than we were. You and I were talking a few days ago as to what might come to pass, and all the time behind our backs they had settled everything. I could have believed this of Annele, but not of Lenz. But it is better so; and as God has willed it, let us thank him for his goodness."
Franzl stood with her mouth and eyes wide open, but she was obliged to go home without a scrap of praise or anything else, and Annele scarcely condescended to notice her.—Then Pilgrim came.
Annele behaved in a very different manner to Pilgrim than she had done to Faller. She knew that he did not like her; but before he had said a single word she thanked him for his warm sympathy, and Pilgrim treated the whole affair in a good-humoured and facetious manner, hinting that no man was to be trusted, or Lenz would not have kept the matter so close. He thought he thus saved his conscience, and yet did not disturb what was now a settled thing.
But the toughest wood to saw through, yet remained: this was Petrowitsch; and the father resolved to be present. When Petrowitsch came as usual to dinner, he affected to know nothing. The Landlord communicated the fact to him officially, and said that Lenz was expected every minute to dinner. Annele was very childlike and submissive to the old man, and seemed almost as if she intended to throw herself on her knees to ask his blessing. He stretched out his hand kindly to her. The Landlady, too, wished to get hold of his hand, but she only succeeded in grasping two fingers of his left hand. Lenz was glad when he came, to find all going on so smoothly. He was only vexed that Pilgrim, who had spoken so much against them all, should be seated at the same table; but Pilgrim seemed quite unconcerned, so Lenz was soon the same.
The sky looked down sourly on Lenz's betrothal: it rained incessantly for several days following. The rain kept trickling on like one of those incessant talkers who chatter without ceasing. Lenz was of course constantly at the "Lion" Inn, where everything was so comfortable, and every one as well cared for as in his own house. One day, when there were sixteen different tables in the large public room, Lenz told Annele it was like a well frequented marketplace.
"You are witty," said she. "I must tell my father that—it will amuse him."
"Don't do that. What I say to you, I don't intend to go farther."
Lenz was overflowing with happiness. He went backwards and forwards along the distant, and almost impassable road, just as if he had been passing from one room to another. He was often congratulated on his way by different people; and many said—"Don't think us impertinent, but we never believed that Annele would stay in this village. It was always said she would marry a landlord in Baden-Baden, or the Techniker. You may laugh, but you have fallen on your feet."
Lenz was not at all offended by being considered inferior to Annele; on the contrary, he was proud that she was so modest in her views as to choose him. When Lenz was sitting in the back parlour with Annele and her mother, and the old man sometimes came in, uttering some pious sentiment in his deep, sonorous voice, Lenz would say—"How grateful I ought to be to the good Lord, who has given me parents again! and such parents too! I seem to have come into the world a second time. I can scarcely realize that I am actually at home in the 'Lion' Inn, when I remember what I thought when, as a child, I saw the upper storey built, and plate glass in all the windows! I am sure the Palace at Carlsruhe cannot be finer, we children used to say to each other. And I was standing by when the Golden Lion itself was hung up. I little thought, then, that the day would come when I should be quite at home in such a palace! It is hard that my mother did not live to see it!"
The two women were touched by these words, although Annele did not leave off counting the stitches in a pair of slippers that she had begun to work for Lenz. Neither of them spoke for some little time, till the mother said—"Yes! besides, what first-rate connections you will have in my other two sons-in-law. I told you already that I love and respect them, but differently from you, I have known you from the time you were a child, and I feel towards you as if you had been my own flesh and blood. But you have seen them, and know what well bred, genteel young men they both are—and men of business, into the bargain. Many a one would be glad, if they had as much capital as they make in a single year."
After a pause, however, Annele said—"If that tiresome rain would only cease, then, Lenz, we would go out driving together at once."
"I should, indeed, enjoy being with you alone under God's spacious sky. The house seems too confined for my sense of happiness. Annele, we would drive to the town."
"Wherever you like."
Presently Lenz said again:—"I am very glad my 'Magic Flute' was so safely packed, for I should so grieve if it was injured."
"That is very needless anxiety," said the mother. "The thing is now sold, and of course the purchaser runs all risks."
"No, mother, that's not at all the case. I understand my Lenz better. He is attached to a work that cost him so much anxiety, and he would have been glad never to have parted with it. If one has passed days and nights, month after month, engrossed with one object, it would be very distressing to know that it was injured."
"Yes, dear Annele; you are indeed my own!" cried Lenz, joyfully. How well and thoroughly this excellent girl understood his feelings and explained them!
The mother chided them playfully:—"It's no good talking to you lovers; anyone who is not in love, is sure to be wrong in your eyes." She went in and out, for Lenz had begged that, at all events at first, Annele might be released from her attendance in the public room. "I am not jealous," said he, "far from it; but I should like to intercept every look you cast on others, for they all belong to me, and me only."
One afternoon the rain ceased for an hour. Lenz did not desist from urging Annele, till she consented to go with him to his own house. "I feel as if everything there was expecting you. All the stores, and presses, and china, and other things that you will like to see."
Annele resisted for some time, and at last said—"My mother must go too."
The old lady was very speedily equipped. They went through the village. Every one greeted them. They had scarcely gone a hundred steps when Annele complained—"What a horrid footpath, Lenz—it is so heavy and deep. You must repair it thoroughly. But I'll tell you what would be better: you must make a carriage road, so that people may be able to drive up to our door."
"That would be difficult," answered Lenz: "it would cost a large sum of money, and I should have to buy the ground. Do you see? Up there from the hazel hedge the meadow is my own, and I require no carriage road for my business. You know well, Annele dear, that I would do anything to please you, but I cannot do that."
Annele was silent and walked on. The mother, however, whispered to Lenz—"What's the good of discussing things? You ought to have said—'Oh yes, dear Annele! I will see about it'—or something of that kind, and afterwards you could have done just as you liked. She is a mere child, and that is the way to manage children. If you are shrewd, you can manage her perfectly; but you must not make too much of a thing, and snap up every word. Let the subject drop for a few days, and don't renew it immediately; don't promise rashly, if you are not sure about a thing: she will either think it over alone, or more probably forget it. She is but a child."
Lenz looked at her disapprovingly, and said, "Annele is no child; she is capable of discussing any subject, and she understands everything."
"Oh! you think so, of course," said the mother, shrugging her shoulders.
When they were half way across the meadow Annele exclaimed again: "Good heavens! I had no idea it was so far, or so steep! what a distance it is! it will be an age before we get there!"
"I can't make the distance shorter," said Lenz, in a displeased, dry tone.
Annele turned, and looked at him inquisitively.
He continued, stammering, "I am sure that, for all that, you will be rather glad that the distance is so far. Remember, that shows how large our meadow must be. I could keep three cows on it, if it were not so much trouble."
Annele smiled in a forced manner. At last they arrived at the house. Annele panted for breath, and complained that she was sadly overheated.
"Welcome home, in God's name," said Lenz, seizing her hand as she crossed the threshold.
She looked at him kindly, and suddenly said, "You are really a kind soul, and take everything with good humour!"
Lenz was pleased, and what a happy woman Franzl was. First the mother gave her her hand, and then Annele did the same. And both praised up to the skies the kitchen, the parlour, and the whole house, as so clean and neatly arranged.
The mother stood with Franzl below, while Lenz took Annele all over the house, and showed her the seven beds, and their stock of bedding, and two large feather beds besides, which could make at least three more. He opened trunks, and chests, in which stores of fine white linen were closely packed, and said, "Now Annele, what do you think of these? You are a little surprised, I should think? Can any one see a prettier sight?"
"Yes, it is all very orderly and nice. But I don't say anything of my sister Therese's stock of linen; for, of course, when there are often a hundred guests there at a time, come to drink the waters, a vast quantity of linen is required,—it forms part of their business. But you should really see the presses of Babet's mother-in-law; these would appear very scanty beside hers."
Lenz looked very much annoyed, and said, "Annele, don't say such things, even in jest."
"I am not jesting—I am quite in earnest. I am not in the least surprised, for I have seen both finer and better linen, and in far greater quantities too. Do show some sense: you surely can't expect me to be in ecstasies with what is just neat and tidy, and no more. I have seen a good deal more of the world than you, remember that."
"No doubt! It may be so," said Lenz, with trembling lips.
Annele stroked his face laughingly, and said, "My good Lenz, what need you care whether I am lost in admiration or not? Your mother made a good provision, a very fair one indeed, considering her position in life. No one can say otherwise. But, dear Lenz, I do not marry you for your property; I like you for your own sake,—that is the chief point."
This speech was both sweet and bitter, but the bitter seemed to Lenz to predominate, and he felt as if gall had touched his lips.
They returned to the sitting-room, where Franzl had prepared a plentiful repast. Annele said she had no appetite; but when Lenz said, "That won't do at all, you must eat something the first time you come to my house," she at last consented to take a crust of bread.
Lenz was obliged to silence Franzl repeatedly, as she thought she could not sufficiently praise him. "You must have done something very good in the world, to get such a husband," said she to Annele.
"And he must have done the same," said the mother, looking at Annele. Probably she meant maliciously to insinuate, that Lenz was fully as fortunate as her daughter.
"Come here, Annele, and sit down beside me," said Lenz; "you often said you would like to see how I put together a musical timepiece. I kept this one on purpose to show it to you the first time you came here. Now I will place it properly, and then it will play of itself. It is a beautiful melody of Spohr's. I can sing it to you, but it is far, far finer than I can show you by my singing."
He sung the air from "Faust," "Love is a tender flower." Then Annele sat down by him, and he began to place the different pegs skilfully, according to the music before him, taking them out of their case, just as printers do types, and placing them with quickness and dexterity.
Annele was full of admiration, and Lenz continued to work on gaily; but he begged her not to speak, for he was obliged to give his attention to the metronome which he had set going.
The mother knew that it would be hard work for Annele to sit quiet, and to look on silently. She therefore said, with a gracious smile, "Every one knows how clever you are, Lenz; but we must now go home, it is near our dinner hour, and we expect some strangers. It is quite enough that you began the work while we were here."
Annele rose, and Lenz ceased working.
Franzl kept watching Annele's hands, and also those of the Landlady, and when either placed them in their pockets she became agitated, and hid her hands quickly behind her back, to show that she would not accept any present. She must be persuaded by gentle force to take anything. "Now it is sure to come,—a gold chain, or a handsome ring, or perhaps a hundred new dollars. Who knows?—such people give handsomely."
But they gave neither handsomely nor shabbily—indeed, scarcely their hand in farewell; and Franzl went into the kitchen, and snatching up one of her largest and most favourite old pipkins, she held it up in the air, and would gladly have hurled it at the heads of those saucy, ungrateful women, but she could not bear to destroy her old favourite. "Did ever any one hear of such a thing?—not to bring her even an apron! Poor, poor Lenz! you have fallen into the hands of a fine shabby set! Heaven be praised that I had nothing to do with it! I should be very grieved to have any profit from such an affair,—every farthing would burn me!"
Lenz escorted his bride and his mother-in-law beyond the boundary of his meadow, and then returned home, after arranging that, if the next day was fine, they were to drive together to sister Babet's.
Lenz had a good deal to prepare, besides giving instructions to his workpeople.
His feelings were strange when he was once more alone, and two hours had scarcely elapsed when he wished to go down to see Annele. He felt anxious and nervous, he did not know why. Annele alone could, and would, drive away these nervous sensations. He stayed at home, however; and when, before going to rest, he again closed the chests that had remained open, he felt as if he were about to hear something, he knew not what. There lay the webs prepared by his mother, moistened by her lips, and spun by her fingers. Strange! but he almost seemed to feel as if a spirit were gliding by his side, and a mournful voice breathing out of the open chests.
Franzl, in the mean time, was in her room, sitting bolt upright in bed. She was muttering all kinds of imprecations against Annele and her mother; but then prayed to God to let her recall her words, and to consider them unsaid, as every evil wish that was realised on Annele, affected Lenz also.