CHAPTER XI
Aunt Ursul sat at Catherine's bed in the room carefully noticing every motion of the young girl who lay there, pale, with closed eyes, half asleep as it appeared. She repeatedly felt her pulse, and renewed the cold cloths on her forehead. She then again bent over her, listened to her quiet breathing, then bowed satisfied and murmured: "There's nothing more to be done here now. We will now look after the young man."
She arose and retired, as quietly as her heavy boots would permit, from the chamber, her face expressing displeasure as the door creaked a little, though she shut it very softly. Lambert, who had been sitting at the hearth, raised his head and looked at her who was entering with anxious eye. Aunt Ursul sat down by his side, placed her feet firmly on the hearth, and said, in a tone intended to be a whisper, but on account of her deep, rough voice was a dull growl:
"No, Lambert, on that side"--she at the same time inclined her large head toward the chamber--"so far it goes quite well. The girl is a brave child, and will to-morrow again stand firm in her shoes. If we women should at once discover your stupidities we would have much to do."
Lambert seized the hand of the kind woman. Tears stood in his eyes. Aunt Ursul did not know how it happened, but her eyelashes also became moist. She breathed deeply two or three times, and said: "You ought to be ashamed, Lambert. You really have a heart like a young chicken, and now it occurs to me that I have eaten nothing the whole day. Give me a piece of bread and some ham, or whatever you have, and if there is yet a swallow of rum in the flask it won't do any hurt--but add to it two-thirds water. A well-behaved person will not otherwise drink the fiery stuff. And now we will once have a little rational talk, Lambert. We need not be in a hurry. The girl sleeps so soundly that she will not wake under six hours."
Lambert had taken what was wanted out of the cupboard. Aunt Ursul moved her chair to the table, and while she was eating heartily, said:
"Do you know, Lambert, that the girl is a treasure?"
Lambert bowed.
"And that neither you, nor Conrad, nor any man in this earthly vale of tears, is good enough for the maiden?"
Lambert's eyes said: "Yes."
"I have now for the first time carefully looked at her," said Aunt Ursul; "as she lay there, white and bloody, like the doves this morning. There is not one false or distorted line in her lovely face. Everything is entire purity and innocence, as though the Lord God had opened a window in heaven and sent her forth upon the earth. And now to think that such a lovely angel is destined to all the suffering and anguish which is our inheritance from our mother Eve--Good God, it is dreadful! Since, rightly considered, Lambert, you cannot help it, as you did not make the world, and are all in all a good man, Lambert--yes, a right good man--what Aunt Ursul can do to smooth the way to your happiness that she will do with all her heart. Yes, surely, Lambert, that she will."
"I thank you, aunt," replied Lambert. "I can truly say that I have always been persuaded of your good will, and have constantly reckoned on you, but I am afraid that now nobody can any longer help us. How shall I stand with her before God's altar when I know that my brother begrudges me my happiness? Even could I do so, Catherine could not bear the thought that it is she on whose account Conrad is irreconcilably angry. She knows how I have loved the young man--how I still love him. I could shed my blood for him, and how did he renounce us even now--even now?"
Lambert supported his forehead with his hand. On Aunt Ursul's rough face there also lay a deep, helpless sadness. She wished to say something comforting to Lambert, but found nothing to say. Lambert proceeded:
"I am not angry at him. How could I be? You know, aunt, that we were long uncertain whether he or I should go to New York, since he had less to keep him, and we thought it would do him good to get out among other people. Then he would have found Catherine, and he would surely have dealt just as I did; and who knows how everything would then have fitted itself in?"
Aunt Ursul shook her large head.
"Do not sin against yourself, Lambert," said she. "I have always found that, rightly weighed, everything had to come out just as it did come out, and with this we pause."
"I, also, cannot conceive how it could have been different," replied Lambert. "As far as I can see, my hand has been little in this, and yet I might even surrender her could I thus bring Conrad back."
"And I my two hands and my head in addition," said Aunt Ursul, "could I by that means bring it about that my four boys might enter the door alive. Lambert, Lambert! let me tell you, 'if' and 'but' are very fine things, but one must keep them away from him or he will get crazy over them. I have had experience of it in myself and in my old man."
"But Conrad is not dead," said Lambert, "so all hope cannot be lost. I had also lost my head. I did not know what I said or did. He was without this already unhappy enough. Alas, aunt, I am also to blame. I would gladly tell him that. I would like to talk right into his heart. He has hitherto always been willing to listen to me. What do you advise, aunt?"
"What should I advise?" said Aunt Ursul fretfully. "It is always the old story: First you set the world on its head, and then you come running and cry: 'What do you advise, aunt?' Am I God? Many times there seems to be need of it. No, Lambert, in that you are indeed right. Conrad is not yet dead, and so we need not throw away our guns into the grain-field. But it will not do to pour out the child with the water in which you have bathed it. To pour oil into the fire increases the blaze. Should you now go to Conrad it would not be well. You can't gather ripe figs from a thorn-bush. In due time one can pick roses, Lambert, in due time."
Aunt Ursul repeated her last words several times as though she would thus help her inability to advise.
"But time is pressing," said Lambert. "Who knows how soon we shall have the French here?--Perhaps to-morrow. My God! to-morrow should be our wedding day."
He told his aunt what arrangement he had made with the minister.
"Yes, yes; man proposes, but God disposes," said Aunt Ursul. "We can now say nothing about tomorrow. This thing will probably not get so far as that by to-morrow. What concerns the other I will make my care, Lambert. Whether the maiden comes to me, or I to her, will be about the same in the minister's eyes, to say nothing about God, who has something better to attend to than to trouble himself about such hocus-pocus. I am here beforehand. I would gladly have looked after my old man, who was today quite desperate and heathenish, but if it must be I too will stay. There must be some one to lead the regiment when it comes. Still there, Pluto! What does the beast mean? I believe the young men are coming already. You look after them, Lambert. I will meanwhile look after the girl; and Lambert, if they are there, keep them before the house. The night is warm and you can keep watch there. Whoever wishes to sleep can come in here and lie down on the hearth, but I want him to be as still as a mouse."
Aunt Ursul went into the room. Lambert stepped to the front door and quieted the growling Pluto. He listened, and now clearly heard the steps of his comrades. Soon their forms emerged out of the light fog which had spread over the fields near the creek, though the moon already stood at some height over the woods. There were three of them. Lambert's heart beat. He expected only Fritz Volz and Richard Herkimer. Was Conrad the third? Surely, surely it must be Conrad.
But out of Pluto's broad chest sounds like rolling thunder now broke forth. Did not the intelligent and faithful beast know her own master? Lambert with great eagerness went to meet those who were coming.
"God bless you, Lambert," said Richard Herkimer.
"God bless you, Lambert," said Fritz Volz.
The third one had remained a few steps behind.
"Who is the other one?" asked Lambert with trembling voice.
"Guess," said Richard laughing.
"The crazy fellow," said Fritz Volz.
"He would go with us, though Annie herself thought that he would not fire away his powder for nothing," said Richard.
"Is it Adam Bellinger?" asked Lambert.
"Now come up, you hare's foot," said Fritz Volz.
"Are you holding the dog?" asked Adam, with uncertain voice.
Richard and Fritz laughed, but Lambert could not join them, as he might have done at another time. Adam instead of Conrad! What could have moved the silly fellow to such night-wandering except the desire again to be near Catherine? What would his friends think of Catherine? What would not the talkative Adam have told them on the way.
"Come a little nearer," said Richard, having taken Lambert's arm as they were walking toward the house. "I want to say a few words to you. You must not be angry, Lambert, that we brought Adam along. He would not be set right. Heaven knows what has come into his calf's head. We could have made nothing out of his crazy talk, but the ladies lit the candle so that it shone bright enough. That you--Nay, Lambert, old boy, I wish you happiness with all my heart. And I can also tell you that by this a heavy stone is lifted from my heart. You know I have always liked Annie, and she has not been unkind to me; but old Bellinger had got his head set that you must become his third son-in-law--and nobody else. Now if you marry the stranger girl it will help us all. Therefore once more, happiness and blessing, Lambert Sternberg, with my whole heart."
"That I also wish you," said Lambert.
"I know it," said Richard; "but now we must also say good evening to your girl, Lambert. If she is half as handsome as Adam swears, she must be something truly wonderful. Is she in the house?"
They stood before the door. The two others were still some distance behind. Lambert drew his young friend beside him on the bench and briefly told him everything which sooner or later he would have unfolded more fully, but which now could no longer be kept secret.
"This is my situation, Richard," concluded he. "You can conceive how heavy my heart is."
"I can well conceive it," said Richard Herkimer, heartily pressing Lambert's hand. "Dear friend, this is an unhappy record. Conrad should be ashamed, especially at this time, to forsake you and leave the cart sticking in the mud, when even such fellows as John Mertens and Hans Haberkorn are pulling with us at the same rope."
"You see, Richard, it is that which grieves me most," said Lambert, "You know how they talked about us last year--that we held with the French; that Conrad spoke Indian better than German, and other scandalous stuff. What will they now say when they hear that, at the very moment when the danger breaks in upon us, Conrad is not to be found among us?"
"Let them say what they will," said Richard. "My father, the minister, and all who are reasonably intelligent, you have always had on your side; and they will also this time know what to think. Perhaps Conrad also will yet consider."
"God grant it!" said Lambert, with a deep sigh.
"Now," said Richard, rising, "I will give a wink to Fritz Volz; and then you must tell us what we are to do for the night."
Richard Herkimer went to the two others, who had remained standing at some distance, engaged, as it appeared, in a discussion. At the same moment Aunt Ursul came out of the door.
"Is that you, Lambert?"
"Yes, aunt."
"Who are the others?"
Lambert named the friends.
"What, then, does Adam want?" said Aunt Ursul.
"The fellow has become quite foolish. Nay, Lambert, that is your business; but to-morrow send off the awkward fellow. We don't want useless eaters here. This evening he may come in with the rest. Catherine is up again. She says it is not a time now to be sick. In that surely she is right. She is standing at the fire, boiling an evening soup for your people, as though nothing had happened--the noble girl! I am now going home; and, Lambert, the minister meant well in what he said to you, but under the circumstances it is senseless. You are an honorable man, and the girl is not trifling, and God knows what your duty is in the case."
Lambert went with Aunt Ursul into the house. Catherine came to meet him, looking pale and having a cloth wound about her head, but greeting him with a friendly smile. "You must not scold me," she said. "To please your aunt I acted as though I was asleep. I have heard everything. I could not remain quietly in bed while you have so many guests. I again feel quite well."
She leaned her head against his breast and whispered: "And you love me notwithstanding, Lambert; not so?"
Lambert held the dear girl fast in his arms as a loud ahem! was heard, and Aunt Ursul entered the door closely followed by the three young men.
"So, you young people," said Aunt Ursul, "come in and eat your supper--that is, if it is ready; and this is my Lambert's dear bride, and she is not standing there like Lot's pillar of salt. Adam Bellinger, you may as well shut your mouth. No roasted pigeons will fly into it. There is for this evening a soup, so that you must move your own hands to get it conveniently out of the bowl. So, Richard Herkimer, that is right that you at once offer your hand to the young lady. You are always polite, having learned it from your father. And now I'll be off. God protect you, Catherine, and you, Lambert, and you all. I shall come again to-morrow and perhaps with my old man. Now nobody needs to be farther concerned about me. Do you hear? Aunt Ursul can find her home alone."
While she thus spoke she took her rifle, kissed Catherine heartily, and shook hands with the young men one after the other. Then she walked out of the house into the windy night.
The three guests breathed more freely when austere Aunt Ursul had turned her broad back, and her heavy tread outside was heard. But it was some time before they began to look about them and to talk, though Catherine kindly invited them to take seats, and assured them that the soup would soon be ready.
Richard Herkimer said to Fritz Volz: "Better sit down, Fritz," though he himself remained standing. Fritz Volz pushed Adam Bellinger in the side and asked him if he did not see that he was standing in the way of the young lady. Then they rubbed their hands as if they were entirely frozen, though, at least on Adam's brow, clear sweat drops were impearled. And when they spoke it was in whispers, as though the steaming soup which Catherine now placed on the table was to be their last meal.
Adam Bellinger was not quite sure whether this would be the case with him. Fritz Volz had before told him that the chief business would be diligently to patrol against the enemy, and, since he had such a burning desire to measure himself against the French, he must make the beginning; that it was indeed no fun to walk about the woods in the night when there might be a Frenchman behind every tree; but that doubtless Adam would teach the fellows manners. Adam said that he had come to help defend the blockhouse against a possible attack, but not to let himself be shot by the French and scalped by the Indians in the woods in the night and fog. The contention about this, which had before been arrested, was now again taken up by the teasing Fritz, though with a little timidity. He wanted to know from Adam how he could distinguish between a tree-trunk and an Indian, in the night. Richard asked him how he would save himself if he were suddenly seized by his long, yellow hair from behind and jerked to the ground. By these and other similar questions of the two teasers, Adam was thrown into great distress. They laughed loud, while he came near crying, until Catherine interposed, saying that a courageous man would in danger hit upon the right thing, though he might not be able to tell beforehand what he would do.
"Yes, indeed," said Adam, "the young lady has more sense in her little finger than you have in your two heads. I shall doubtless know what I have to do."
He accompanied these brave words with such a thankful, tender look at Catherine, that both the merry rogues broke out in loud laughter, and a glimmer of mirthfulness passed over Lambert's earnest face.
"It is enough," said he. "Adam will do his duty as well as the rest of us. It is time that we assign the watch for the night; two for every two hours, and Adam and I will make the beginning. Good night, Catherine."
He gave his hand to Catherine. The others followed his example. As Lambert was leaving the house Fritz Volz and Richard Herkimer came out too.
"We will also rather stay outdoors," said Richard. "Fritz, as I know by experience, cannot do without snoring and that might disturb Catherine, who surely needs sleep."
Fritz Volz said he could do without snoring, but Richard could not stop talking, and that it was on the whole better that they should camp before the door.
"You kind young men," said Lambert.
"Is that kind?" said Richard eagerly. "I would stand all night on my head if I knew that Catherine would sleep better on that account."
"And I would lie there in the creek up to my neck in the water," said Fritz Volz.
Adam sighed, and looked at the moon which hung clear and large over the forest.
"Come, Adam," said Lambert, "we will go upon our round."
They set out, accompanied by Pluto. The others stretched themselves out upon the dry sand before the door, wrapped up in their blankets, their rifles in their arms. Fritz Volz did not snore. Richard Herkimer did not talk. Both looked up to the twinkling stars, lost in thoughts which happily remained concealed from Gussie and Annie Bellinger.
Never before had Catherine been so carefully guarded as during this night.