CHAPTER XV.
A FEAST WITH UNEXPECTED DISHES.
The Major and Roland set out upon the performance of a most pleasant office. They had the pony harnessed to the little wagon, in which all the packages were put, and drove through the hamlets, stopping at the various houses, and personally distributing the gifts. First of all they drove to Claus's, in whom the last winter had worked a great change. After the first expressions of sympathy had been received from his neighbors, and he had once washed down all thought and care with a good drink, he took to mitigating his troubles by the all-obliterating wine, or by brandy, if he could get no better. His wife and children were in despair at this change in him, and once the family came to hard words, the Cooper having heard that his father had been begging of a stranger from the other side of the mountains, and complaining of having been ruined by a rich man.
The Gauger and the Burgomaster were amused with Claus's complaints and fierce invectives, his jokes and wise sayings, and supplied him with liquor.
When Roland and the Major arrived at this man's house, it was evident, even at that early hour of the morning, that he had been drinking. Roland was much shocked, but the Major said,—
"Oh, you should not think anything of that. The man drinks too much, but only too much for his own stomach. Where is the harm? If a man is made happy by a glass of wine too much, do let him enjoy it."
The Major's words and Roland's inward happiness soon effaced all recollection of this first meeting. From Claus's they went to Sevenpiper's, where was rejoicing beyond measure.
Roland said, again and again, that this day was the happiest he had ever passed; and the Major impressed upon him that he must not throw his good deeds into the empty air, but accept the good wishes and blessings of those he had relieved from suffering and care.
"Fräulein Milch," he added, "has a good saying, which should be inscribed in the temple: The happiest hour is that which follows the performance of a good deed. Write that in your heart, my boy."
The dogs jumped about the wagon, and Roland cried out to them,—
"Do you too know that this is my happiest day? You poor beasts, I can give you nothing but food; you want neither clothes nor money."
Out of one house Roland came flying, pale as death.
"What has happened to you?" asked the Major.
"Oh, let us get away from here, away!" urged the youth in terror. "I tremble all over, now, at what was done to me. If I had been attacked by robbers, I could not have been more frightened."
"But what was it? Tell me what it was!"
"The old man, whom I brought the clothes and money for, wanted to kiss my hand; that old man—my hand! I thought I should die, I was so frightened. And are you laughing at it?"
"I am not laughing; you were quite right."
The Major looked upon this sensitiveness as one of the results of the nervous fever, and said after a while,—
"Your father has planted a great many trees, and when one thrives he calls it a grateful tree. Do you know what the most grateful tree is? The tree of knowledge and good works."
While Roland's heart was thus swelling with the joy of health and well-doing, Eric was in great depression. He had given his mother Professor Einsiedel's letter, and, sitting beside her, told her how this had comforted him for a while, but that now he was again in a state of great uncertainty, because his relation to Sonnenkamp must henceforth be one of painful dependence; till now he had occupied a free and equal position with regard to him, but now he had received favors, received a gift of money, and had lost his independence.
His mother listened patiently to the end, and then asked,—
"Do you hesitate to accept this gift because it comes from Herr Sonnenkamp? Why not as readily or as reluctantly as from any one else, from Clodwig, for instance?"
She put the question eagerly, thinking she perceived that Eric, as well is herself, was aware of Sonnenkamp's past life; but she was soon assured that he had no suspicion of it, by his replying,—
"Friendship gives differently, and makes it seem hardly a gift; from a friend like Clodwig, I could accept anything."
His mother told him he should consider that the money came from Roland, whose coming of age was only anticipated. But that idea troubled Eric too: it made him feel that he was sent away, paid off; the account was squared between them. His mother reminded him, for his consolation, that no outward pay could compensate for the labor, the burning cheek, the trembling nerves, the planning and thinking by day and by night, which the education of a human being requires. Finally, Eric confessed that it mortified him to have to accept presents before Pranken, and Manna too, the daughter of the house.
"Pranken and Manna are one," answered his mother, "she is his betrothed. But take comfort; look back over the past year, and you will see that you have developed in your pupil a character which nothing can undermine."
This thought finally enabled Eric to rise above all his depression, and when he left his mother's house he had spirit enough to exclaim:—
"Look at Eric, old Father Rhine; he is become an independent man, and can live upon his interest till he is seventy-seven years old!"
He met Roland and the Major returning from their round of visits. It was not for nothing that the Major carried always two watches about with him, one of which he called his galloper because it was always fast; the only difficulty was, he could never tell whether he had put the galloper in his right or left pocket; however, he was on hand again punctually at dinner-time.
Roland sat at the richly furnished table, but tasted scarcely a morsel.
"I am so full," he said to Eric, "so full of the great happiness I have given to-day. And you—are you not happy too?"
Eric could truly say he was.
There was some discussion as to who should propose the customary toast for Roland; whether it was for Eric or Pranken to do.
Both at length urged the duty upon the Major, who rose and said,—
"Gentlemen and ladies!"
"Bravo!" cried Pranken.
"Thank you," said the Major, "Interrupt me as often as you will; I have learned to take flying leaps, and every obstacle gives me a chance for a higher bound. Once more, ladies and gentlemen! the human race is divided into male and female."
General laughter, which delighted the Major.
"Here you behold a pair in the garden of Eden—"
"Perhaps you would like this to complete your picture?" said Pranken, handing the Major an apple.
Roland was indignant with Pranken for interfering so often, and begged the Major not to let himself be confused by it.
"Be easy, my boy," said the Major in a low voice; "I can stand fire."
Then he continued aloud:—
"So we have here two children, the daughter of the house and the son of the house; and the children have us. They have their parents; they have a grandmother and an aunt by election, and here,"—giving himself a ringing blow on his chest,—"here they have an uncle. We love them as if they were our own blood, and they love us, do they not, children?"
"Yes!" cried Roland, and Manna nodded.
"So then, if I had a son—no, I don't mean that—if I had a teacher for this son of mine—no, I did not mean that either—So, then, our wild rover there—see, he has already a growth upon his face—may the Architect of the universe bless him, and let him grow to be a man who shall understand what is true happiness for himself, for others, for his brethren of all faiths, for all the descendants of man upon the earth."
Amen, he was about to say, but corrected himself, and cried:—"His health, again and again, his health."
The Major sat down, and unbuttoned several buttons behind his napkin.
Sonnenkamp spoke next, and in happily chosen language proposed a toast to Eric, his mother, and his aunt.
"You must speak too; you must speak too," the Major kept urging upon Eric.
Eric rose, and with a light and cheerful tone began:—
"Two things may be particularly noticed, which the Old World has given to the New World of America—the horse and wine. The horse is not a native of America, neither is wine. Germans first planted vineyards in the New World. Two natural objects, therefore, which enlarge the scope of human strength and intellect, we have presented to the New World. I leave out of consideration the kingdom of ideas. My toast is this: May our Roland, who comes to us from the New World, be borne onward and animated by the rich powers beyond himself, to great and noble ends!" He raised his glass with enthusiasm, the sunlight sparkled in the wine, and pointing to it he continued:
"The sun of to-day greets the sun of a past age. What we drink is the offspring of departed days, and what we receive into our soul has ripened in the sun of eternity. Each one of us should be a fruit that shall ripen and live on in the sun of eternity, as God lives in humanity, and in the stars, and in the trees and plants. Holy is the world, and holy should we make ourselves. We are not our own, and what we have is not our own. What we are and what we have belong to the Eternal. My Roland, the bright, smiling, sunny light of this day which is gilding the earth will be turned to the fire of the wine, which after resting and ripening in well sealed casks, in the cool earth, shall presently be carried to strangers through all the lands, to animate and penetrate them with its sunlight. So shall the sun of to-day become fire in our souls, which shall burn brightly through the cold and desolate days that may be in store. May that ripen in you, my Roland, which shall quicken your soul, and rejoice mankind, and convert all life into the free and beautiful temple of God."
Eric's eye encountered a glance from Manna's, as he sat down. She beheld him as it were for the first time. His face wore an expression of ideality, of spirituality, which seemed to subdue all passion, and a look of such manly decision as made her feel, If, in danger, I had this man by my side, I should have an all-sufficient help. But she needed no help.
Sonnenkamp and Pranken shrugged their shoulders at the conclusion of Eric's speech, and had to repress a laugh which was provoked by Sonnenkamp's whispering to his neighbor,—
"The man almost seems to believe what he says."
A diversion was here made by the arrival of the Doctor, and of the Justice's Lina, who was eager to greet her friend upon her "return to life," as she called it. All arose from the table in excellent spirits.