Seed-time and Harvest: A Novel

by Fritz Reuter

CHAPTER IV.

In the field by the mill there was wheat again this year, as in the year in which Habermann took charge of the estate. The property was divided into eleven fields; and eleven years had passed since that time. The inspector came out of the church, for it was Sunday, and he had been to hear the Pastor's sermon, and to visit his little daughter. He went on foot along the path from the church, for the way was short, and the day was fine, the finest of midsummer weather; he went through his wheat-field, and one of the purest joys came over him, this, that one sees the visible blessing of God on what in human hope, but also in human uncertainty, his hands have sown. He was not enriched by the blessing,--that belonged to his master; but the joy was his, and it made his heart light and his mind clear, and in the clear mind, joyous thoughts darted, like fish in a limpid brook. He whistled a merry tune to himself, and almost laughed when he heard his own whistling, for such an outburst of mirth rarely happened to him.

"So," said he, "this is the eleventh year I have been over that field, and the worst is over; yet once more! then the overseeing shall be done by other eyes."

He took the way through the garden, which lay on high ground, and joined a little grove of oaks and beeches, where the drive and foot-path had been freshly cleared and raked out, for the Kammerrath and his family were coming to-day, and had sent word that they might be expected by the middle of the afternoon. As he came up the ascent he stood still and looked back over the wheat-field, and laughed to himself. "Yes, it doesn't look much as it did eleven years ago, when I let them mow it. This is something like! This time we have had a better year. What will the old Herr say? Between now and harvest, there is some time yet, but the rape is now as good as sure. If he only hasn't sold it all beforehand, again!" sighed he. "The cuckoo knows!" and he recalled the sums which had been borrowed during these eleven long years. "The old Herr will go no farther, and will go no farther; but, God bless him, there are his five daughters, and two sons-in-law who drain him, and then the gracious lady, who believes because money is round that it must run away, and then the son--it must be very expensive in the Prussian cuirassiers! Yes, the times are better than they were in my day; but if a man once gets into a tight place--it is hard, and he looks too old altogether."

He had time to spare. To-day they were waiting dinner for the Herr Kammerrath, although he had not given orders to that effect. "It was proper to do so," Habermann had said. "Yes," said he once more, and seated himself in the cool shade, "he will rejoice over the wheat, and it will be a help to him, for it is worth something, and times are better than they were."

Yes, the times were tight again, for what are "the times," for the North German people, and for all mankind, but long, long threads stretched far out over England and America and all the world, and knotted at the ends, and so managed that they lie sometimes quite slack, and whatever is fastened to them--and that is for our people almost the whole country--cannot move itself; and then again they are stretched tight, so that everything dances merrily back and forth, and all are shifted about, even in the remotest corners.

In this little corner of the world also, the thread was stretched tight, and young Jochen's porcelain pipe-bowl, and leaden tinder box, and his blue-painted corner-cupboard, and the waxed sofa, were all cleared out of the house, and the old crazy yellow coach out of the carriage-house; and in their place he had a meerschaum pipe adorned with silver, and a mahogany secretary, and an immense creature of a divan, in the living-room, and in the carriage-house there was a vehicle which Bräsig always called the "phantom," because in looking at the bill he had taken an "e" for an "n," and an "n" for an "m:" and he was not far wrong, for the thing was almost of the kind one sees in a dream.

And the same thread had also guided the hand of Bräsig's Herr Count, so that finally, after almost twenty years, he had given him in writing the desired permission to marry, and also a bond promising "a suitable pension for his old age."

And upon this thread, when it was slack, the little Frau Pastorin had caught herself, like a top which the boys rig up, and now that it was stretched she buzzed about her Pastor, and hummed daily in his ears; when the minister's meadow should be rented again, it would bring as good as double. And as Moses, at the close of the last year, added up his sum-total, and wrote underneath a little one and four great ciphers, the thread caught him by the arm, and the four ciphers changed to six. "David, lay the book away," said he, "it balances."

But while these threads, as to how far apart the knots are, and how lightly they are stretched, are governed a good deal by human instrumentality,--even although the Lord is above, and superintends the whole, so that the slack-lying and the tight-stretching happen in moderation, and mankind are not left to lie still on a hillock and stick there, or get tangled and run wildly together, as when a sack full of peas is shaken about,--a single human being has as much volition on these threads as the chafer has on his, when the children play with it; it can buzz about, here and there. Another thread, however, governs the world: it reaches from the highest to the lowest, and God himself has fastened the ends; no chafers buzz on it, nor is it in any sense a game. This thread was twisted a little, and Zachary Bräsig got a touch of the gout. It was stretched a little tighter, and the two old Nüsslers lay on their last couch; and then the knots at their end of the thread were cut, and they were buried.

Zachary Bräsig, indeed, scolded and fretted terribly when he felt the twitching, and in his ignorance did not understand, but blamed the new fashion of sewed dress-boots, and the damp, cold spring, for what he should have laid to the account of his hearty dinners and his usual little drop of Kümmel. He was snappish as a horse-fly, and Habermann would rally him, whenever he visited him in such a temper, about the writing in his possession which he had received from the Herr Count, granting him permission to marry and a pension, and then Bräsig would be angry, terribly angry, and would say, "Now just think, brother, in what an outrageous dilemma that paper of the gracious Count places me! If I want to marry, then says my gracious Count I am too young to need a pension, and if I ask for the pension, then I must say to myself, I am too old to marry! Oh! my gracious Count is not much better after all than a regular Jesuit; he says the words and you see them under your eyes, but virtually he has put all sorts of mocking paragraphs in the paper, that a man who for eight and twenty years has worn out his bones in his service cannot request a pension without depreciating himself personally, or that a man who could have had three brides twenty years ago, now that he is fifty years old cannot marry one. Oh, I laugh at the gracious paragraphs and at the gracious Count!"

One man's owl is another man's nightingale. Bräsig was spiteful over the twitching of the thread; but in young Jochen's house, after the knots were cut a guest entered, whom the young wife indeed had many times invited at the door, but who had never before crossed the threshold, and that was Peace. Now he had established himself comfortably on the new divan, and ruled over the whole establishment. The young woman cared for him, as if her nearest relative had come to the house, and the two little twin-apples did everything to please him, and young Jochen himself invited the guest in, and said it was all as true as leather, and did his duty as the head of the family. He continued to be monosyllabic, to be sure, and desired no other tobacco than Fleigen Markur, and did not trouble himself about the oversight of the farm. For, after the death of the old people, Habermann and Bräsig had taken the charge of out-door affairs quite out of his hands, and had changed the crops, and had introduced improvements, and because the old people had stowed away under the pillows, and in the stocking-box, and about the stove, and here and there in other places, many a bag of gold which they had forgotten to take with them, the business went very quickly and without much ceremony; and as it was all dispatched young Jochen said, "Yes, what shall I do about it?" and let things take their course.

But the comfort and prosperity which surrounded him roused him up a good deal, and his natural kind-heartedness, which had so long been repressed by the avarice of the old people, became evident; and, if he was a little rough about the head, it was no matter,--as the schoolmaster with the red vest said at the funeral: "It is no matter, Herr Pastor, since the heart is not bad!"

And how was it now with the Frau Pastorin and her Pastor? There the Lord had touched the thread very lightly; he had done like young Jochen, he had said: "What shall I do about it; let things take their course!" And if the Pastor now and then perceived a little light touch on his arm, and looked around, it was only his little friendly wife who stood behind him, always with her dusting cloth, and polished away at his arm-chair, and asked whether he would have the perch fried or boiled; and if his sermon happened to be about Peter's wonderful draught of fishes, or the evangelist's story of the meal of fish on the shore, then all sorts of foolish, unchristian thoughts would dart across his mind, of fried fish, and horse-radish, and butter to eat on it, so that he had some trouble in going on with his sermon, and sustaining the dignity of his office. But what were these little troubles, to which his Regina had accustomed him from the first, in comparison with his great joy?

God bless me! I have just received from my friend the gardener, Juhlke, of Erfurt, a beautiful lily-bulb; and now in the March sun the first leaves are sprouting, and my first thought in the morning is to see how much the leaves have sprouted during the night; and I give it a little pull to find out how the roots are striking, and I move it away from the cool window to the warm stove, and back from the dark stove to the light window, in the blessed sunshine, and it is as yet only a green shoot springing out of the earth, with no sign of a flower-bud, and it is but a plant, and not a human life, and yet how I rejoice over its sprouting and growth and greenness! And the pastor had received also a beautiful lily-bulb from his friend the Gardener, the Lord in heaven, and he and his little wife had tended and watched it, and now a flower-bud was growing, a human flower-bud, and the warm May sun shone upon it, and the Frau Pastorin ran to her darling the first thing in the morning, and buzzed about her at noon, and rejoiced over her healthy appetite, and heaped another spoonful on her plate; "For," said she, "life must have something to live on." And at evening, under the lindens before the door, she wrapped the little maiden under the same sheltering mantle with herself, on the side toward the warmth; and when it was bedtime, then she gave her a good-night kiss: "God bless you, my daughter; to-morrow morning early, at five o'clock, you must be up again!"

And the Pastor's first thought was also of her; and he watched and waited as leaf after leaf was growing green, and gave her a prop at her side, and bound her to it that she might grow right up toward heaven, and kept away all weeds and noxious insects. And when he went to bed at night he would say, as full of hope as a child, "Regina, she must blossom soon."

And so it came about, without the consciousness of the dear old people, or of the child herself, that she became the angel of the household, about whom everything turned, turned joyfully, without grumbling or snarling, without clashing or force. As she in her simple dress, with a little silk handkerchief tied around her neck, her fresh cheeks, and unbound, floating hair, went dancing up and down in her glee, she was a living spring of joy to the whole house; and when she sat still beside her foster-father, and learned, and looked at him with her great eyes, as if there must be something still more beautiful to come, and at last with a deep sigh closed the book, as if it were a pity that it was all done, and yet at the same time good that it was all done, because the little heart could hold no more,--then the Frau Pastorin stole up behind her, in stocking feet, with her dusting-cloth under her apron, and her slippers lying at the door. "For," said she, "teaching children is a different thing from making sermons; the old people are only affected now and then when one hits them right hard with hell-torments; but a child's soul,--one must touch that merely with a tulip-stalk, and not with a fence-pole!"

Habermann's little daughter was always fair, but she looked the fairest when, a step in advance, she held her father by the hand, and brought him into the parsonage yard, where the good people sat under the great linden; then shone out all the virtues which usually sleep quietly in the human heart, and only now and then come to the light of day,--love and gratitude, joy and pride,--from her sprightly face; and, if Habermann walked beside her silent and half-sad that he could do so little for his child, one could read in her eyes a sort of festal joy, as if she thought to discharge all the debt of gratitude which she owed her good foster-parents, by bringing to them her father. She was just entering her thirteenth year and her young heart took no reckoning of her feelings and actions, never in her life had she asked herself why her father was so dear to her. It was otherwise with the Pastor and his wife, there she was daily conscious how kind and good were their intentions toward her, and she had daily opportunities of repaying their love by little acts of duty and friendliness. But here--she knew merely it was her father; he spoke often to her words that must come from his heart, and he looked at her with such quiet, sad looks, that must go to her heart. Reckoning up all they had done, these good people had deserved more from her; but yet--the Lord must have knit these human threads very closely together, up above, they run into each other so, and cannot be separated.

To-day, as Habermann sat in the cool shade, it had been again a festival day for his child, and it was one for him also. He overlooked the whole region. The spring was over, the summer sun shone warm through the light, fleecy clouds; a light breeze cooled the air, and lifted the green corn into the sunlight, as if the earth were waving a green, silken banner before her commander, the sun. The regimental music, from the band of a thousand birds, had ceased with the spring, and only the cuckoo's cry and the call of the quail still echoed, as if a puff of wind bore with it out of the distance the sound of drums and cymbals. But instead of music and singing the wind brought over the fields a sweet odor which came indeed from a field of slaughter, where thousands and thousands of slain lay in rows and heaps, who knew nothing of bloody misery, however, and were a pleasure to mankind: the hay-harvest had begun, and Habermann sat on the hill in the cool arbor, and overlooked the fields, far and near. How beautiful is such a region, where the fields in a thousand green and yellow stripes and bands stretch to the summits of the hills, and shine far around like a many-colored garment which industry has woven for the earth! But it seems restless and anxious, when we tear the turf and the soil with digging and scratching, and every one has his own task, and troubles himself solely about the miserable profits he is to dig from his own little piece of earth,--and all these green and yellow bands and stripes only bear witness to our poverty. I know well it is not so, but it seems so. Here it is otherwise: far out to the blue forest extend the fields of one kind of grain; the rape fields stretch themselves out like a great sea in the golden morning sunlight; broad pastures and slopes harbor the bright-colored cattle, and over the green meadows stretch in an oblique direction the long rows of mowers in white shirt-sleeves; everything is of a piece, all works together; and wherever one casts his eyes, he sees rest and security as the result of riches. I know right well it is not so, but yet it seems so. But that is an afterthought. The eye sees merely the riches and the rest, and these, in the cool shade, with the humming of bees and the playing of butterflies, sink softly into the heart.

So was it to-day with Habermann; he was in such a quiet, happy mood, and thankfully he thought over the last eleven years. All was good and growing better. He had paid his debts to Bräsig and Moses, with his employer he stood on the best footing. His intercourse with him was almost confidential, for, although the Kammerrath was not at all in the habit of discussing his private affairs with every body, Habermann's behavior was so perfectly sure, he knew so exactly how to keep himself in his place, that the Kammerrath often talked over matters with him, which pertained more to himself than to the farm; of his family affairs, however, he had never spoken. It was to happen otherwise to-day.

When the inspector had been sitting a little while, he heard a couple of carriages drive up before the door. "Good heavens, they are coming!" he cried, and sprang up to go and receive the company.

The Kammerrath came with his wife and three daughters and his son; they were to stay six weeks on the estate, and enjoy the country air. "Dear Herr Habermann," said he, "we have come upon you a little sooner than you expected, but my business at Rostock was dispatched more quickly than I believed possible. How is it here? Is everything prepared for the ladies?"

"All is in readiness," said Habermann, "but I fear the dinner may be a little late."

"No misfortune! The ladies can be making their toilet meantime, and you can show me our wheat. And," turning to his son who stood at his side, a stately young man, in handsome uniform, "you can take your mother and sisters into the garden, by and by, for in matters of domestic economy," here he made a sickly attempt to laugh a little, "you take no interest."

"Dear father, I----" said the son, rather uneasily.

"No, let it go, my son," said the father, in a friendly tone. "Come, Herr Habermann, the wheat stands close behind the garden."

Habermann went with him. How old the man had become in so short a time! And it was not age merely which seemed to weigh upon him, he seemed oppressed by some other burden. As he caught sight of his wheat, he became a little enlivened, and cried, "Beautiful, beautiful! I never thought to have seen such wheat in Pumpelhagen."

That pleased Habermann, but, as is the way with these old inspectors, he did not let it be noticed, and because he was laughing inwardly, he scratched his head and said, "If we can make sure of this on the hill, and it will be worth a good deal, and that down there by the meadow, the devil may have his game with the rest."

"We cannot prevent what may still happen," said the Kammerrath. "It is a real pleasure that you have given me to-day, dear Herr Inspector. Ah," added he, after a little while, "why didn't we know each other twenty years ago? It would have been better for you and for me!"

Habermann no longer scratched his head; the trace of humor, which sometimes lightened his serious disposition, was gone, and he looked anxiously at his master. They had come to the boundary of Gurlitz. "The wheat over there doesn't look so well as ours," said the Kammerrath.

"No," said Habermann. "The soil is quite as good as ours, however; that is the Gurlitz Pastor's field, but he has not received his due for it."

"Apropos," went on the Kammerrath, "do you know that Gurlitz is sold? A few days ago it was sold in Rostock for 173,000 thalers. Farms are rising, isn't it so, Habermann, farms are rising considerably. If Gurlitz is worth 173,000 thalers, Pumpelhagen would be a good bargain at 240,000 thalers;" and with that, he looked impressively at Habermann.

"That it would, Herr Kammerrath; but the sale of Gurlitz means something else for you; by contract, the Pastor's field falls out of the estate, upon its sale, and it runs like a wedge into our land,--you must rent the Pastor's field!"

"Ah, dear Habermann, don't talk of my renting!" cried the Kammerrath, and turned about, and went slowly back, as if he might not look at the beautiful piece of land, "I have already too much on my shoulders. I have no desire for new trouble."

"You should have no trouble about it. If you will give me authority, I will arrange the matter with the Herr Pastor."

"No, no, Habermann, it won't do! The expenditure, the advance of rent, the increased inventory! I have besides so many expenditures, my hair stands on end!" and with that the man moved so wearily up the ascent, and stumbled so at every stone, that Habermann sprang toward him, and offered him his arm; close by the garden the Kammerrath had an attack of dizziness, so that Habermann was obliged to hold him up, and could scarcely get him into the arbor. Here, in the cool shade, he soon recovered from his attack; but his appearance was so altered that the inspector in this weak-spirited, broken man could hardly recognize his tranquil, decided friend of former years. The man became talkative, it seemed as if he must unburden his heart. "Dear Habermann," said he, and grasped his hand, "I have a favor to ask; my nephew Franz,--you used to know him,--has finished his studies, and is going to undertake the care of his two estates. He will follow my advice,--my deceased brother appointed me his guardian,--he means to become a practical farmer, and I have recommended you to him as his instructor. You must take the young man here, he is an intelligent youth,--he is a good fellow."

"Yes," said Habermann. That he would do gladly, and so far as in him lay it should not fail; he had known the young man from a child, he was always a dutiful boy.

"Ah," cried the Kammerrath, "if my own boy had gone the same way! Why was I weak enough to yield to my wife against my better judgment? Nothing would do but he must be a soldier. But now it comes, now it comes, my old friend, we have got into debt, deeper than I can tell, for I see by his oppressed and shy manner, that he has not confessed all to me. If he would only do so, then I could know where I stood, and I could save him out of the hands of usurers. And if I myself should fall into those hands!" he added gloomily, after a little, in a weak voice.

Habermann was frightened by the words and the tone, but still more by the appearance of his master. "It will not be so bad as that," he said, for he must say something, "and then the Herr will yet have the receipts from about fifteen hundred bushels of rape; for so I reckon the crop."

"And for seventeen hundred bushels, which I have sold, I have already received the money, and it is already paid out; but that is not the worst, we could get over that. Ah, what a torment!" cried he, as if he must shoulder his burden again. "My business at Rostock is not all wound up, as I said to you before my family; I have taken a debt for one of my sons-in-law, of seven thousand thalers, and cannot raise the money in Rostock, and in three days it must be paid. The money is promised to the purchaser of Gurlitz, and he is to pay the purchase money day after to-morrow. Give me your advice, old friend! You have been in similar circumstances, you know how you helped yourself--don't take it ill of me! you were always an honest man. But I cannot bear not to feel sure in my possessions or in my honourable name."

Yes, Habermann had been in such a condition, and he had failed for a couple of hundred thalers; and this was seven thousand.

"Have you spoken with the purchaser of Gurlitz?" he asked, after some thought.

"Yes," was the reply, "and I told him the plain truth about my difficulties."

"And what was the answer?" said Habermann. "But I can imagine, he was in pressing need of money himself."

"It was not that, as it seemed to me; but the man seemed to have a spite against me, he was too short and abrupt, and when he noticed my embarrassment his offers were too crafty, so that I broke off the negotiation, because I still hoped to procure the money elsewhere. But that is at an end, and I find myself more embarrassed than ever."

"I know of but one immediate resource," said Habermann, "you must go and see Moses, at Rahnstadt."

"The Jew money-lender?" asked the Kammerrath. "Never in the world!" cried he. "I could not bear to feel myself in such hands. No, I will rather bear the insolence of Herr Pomuchelskopp."

"Who?" shouted Habermann, as if a wasp had stung him.

"Why, the purchaser of Gurlitz, of whom we were speaking," said the Kammerrath, and stared at him as if he could not interpret his behavior.

"And he is a Pomeranian, from the region on the Peene, short and stout, with a full face?"

"Yes," said the Kammerrath.

"And he is going to be our neighbor? And you would enter into business relations with him? No, no, Herr Kammerrath, I beg, I implore you, don't allow yourself to get involved with that man! you most bear me witness that I have never made mention, for good or for evil, of the man who has ruined me; but now that you are in danger, now I hold it my duty,--this man is the cause of my misfortunes," and with that he had sprung up, and from his usually tranquil, friendly eyes shot such a flash of hatred, that even the Kammerrath, absorbed as he was in his own affairs, was terrified.

"Yes," cried the inspector, "yes! that man has driven me out of house and home, that man has heaped all sorts of tormenting anxieties upon me and my poor wife, and she has gone to her grave in consequence! No, no! Have nothing to do with that man!"

The warning was too impressive to be disregarded by the Kammerrath. "But who will help me?" asked he.

"Moses," said Habermann, quickly and decidedly. The Kammerrath would make objections, but Habermann placed himself before him, and said still more impressively, "Herr Kammerrath, Moses. After dinner we will ride over there, and if I know him, you will have no reason to repent."

The Kammerrath stood up, and took Habermann's arm; he leaned not merely upon that--no, evidently he was also sustained by the resolute advice of the inspector. For a quiet man, when he is once aroused from his repose, exercises a great influence upon another human being, even if he be not so ill and in such perplexity as the Kammerrath; and difference in rank goes down at the double-quick, in such an emergency, before personal merit.

The conversation at dinner was but feebly sustained,--every one was occupied with his own affairs; Habermann thought of his new, suspicious neighbor, the Kammerrath of his money affairs, and the lieutenant of cuirassiers looked as if he had lost himself in a calculation of compound interest, and could not find the way out; and if the gracious mama had not mounted her high horse a little, and talked of the visits she must make to people of rank in the neighborhood, and the young ladies had not revelled in the prospect of country delights and unlimited grass and flowers, it would have been as silent as a funeral.

After dinner the Kammerrath drove with his inspector to Rahnstadt. As they stopped at the door of Moses' house, the Kammerrath felt in much the same mood as if he had dropped a louis-d'or in the filth, and must stoop to pick it out with his clean hands. A musty odor met them, at the entrance, for a "produce business" does not smell like otto of roses, and the wool, when it has just left the mother-sheep's back, has quite a different smell from that which it has after it has been about the world a little, and got aired, and lies as a bright-colored carpet on a fine lady's parlor, sprinkled with perfume.

And how disorderly it was in the passage and in the room! For Blümchen was a very good wife, to be sure, but she did not understand how to ornament an entry and a counter with a cow's head and a heap of mutton-bones; for Moses said shortly, that belonged to the business, and David was constantly bringing in new treasures and turned the house into a real rat's paradise, for those pleasant little beasts run after the smell of a regular produce business, like doves after anise-seed oil.

In the room, the Kammerrath did not find himself more agreeably disposed, for Moses was orthodox, and on the Christian Sabbath, unless his business demanded the contrary, he wore his greasiest coat, in order to keep himself quite opposed to the customs of the dressed-up Gentiles; and as he now, with his grip at his left coat-pocket, sprang up and ran toward the Kammerrath,--"O heavens! the Herr Kammerrath! the honor!" and shouted to David, who was improving the Sunday-afternoon quiet in the "produce business" by napping a little on the sofa, "David, where are you sitting? Where are you lying? What are you lounging there for? Stand up! Let the Herr Kammerrath sit down," and as he now endeavoured to force the Kammerrath into the place already warmed by David, then would the Kammerrath gladly have left the louis-d'or lying in the dirt; but--he needed it quite too pressingly.

Habermann threw himself into the breach, and set a chair for the Kammerrath by the open window, and undertook the first introduction of the business; and as Moses observed what the talk was to be about, he hunted David about till he got him out of the room,--for although he let him do a good deal in the produce business, he did not consider him quite ripe, at six and thirty years, for the money business,--and when the air was free,--that is to say, of David,--he exclaimed once and again, what a great honor it was for him to have dealings with the Herr Kammerrath. "What have I always said, Herr Habermann? 'The Herr Kammerrath is a good man, the Herr Kammerrath is good.' What have I always said, Herr Kammerrath? 'The Herr Habermann is an honest man; he has toiled and moiled to pay me the last penny.'"

But as he perceived of what a sum they were speaking, he was startled, and held back, and made objections, and if he had not held Habermann in such high esteem, and read plainly in his looks that he seriously advised him to the business, then indeed nothing might have come of it. And who knows but the matter might still have fallen through, if it had not been mentioned casually that the money was to go for the purchase of Gurlitz, and that otherwise the Kammerrath must enter into negotiations with Pomuchelskopp. But as this name was uttered, Moses made a face, as if one had laid a piece of tainted meat on his plate, and he cried out, "With Pomuffelskopp!" for he pronounced the name in that way, "Do you know what sort of fellow he is? He is like that!" and with that he made a motion as if he would throw the bit of tainted meat over his shoulder. "'David,' said I, 'don't have anything to do with Pomuffelskopp!' But these young people,--David bought some wool of him. 'Well!' said I; 'you will see,' I told him. And what had he done? There he had smuggled in with the washed wool the tangles, the wool from dead animals, he had smuggled in dirty wool from slaughtered sheep, he had smuggled in two great field-stones. Two great field-stones had he smuggled in for me! When he came to get his money--'Good!' said I--I paid him in Prussian treasury notes, and I made little packets of a hundred thalers, and in the middle of each packet I smuggled in some that were no longer in circulation, or counterfeit, and in the last packet I laid in two played-out lottery-tickets--'Those are the two great field-stones,' said I. Oh, but didn't he make an uproar? When he came with the Notary Slusuhr,--he is such an one to look at,"--here he again threw the bit of tainted meat over his shoulder,--"like one of David's rats,--his ears stand out, and he lives so well, he lives just like the rats, feeds on rubbish and filth, and gnaws open other people's honest leather. Oh, but they made a disturbance, they would bring a lawsuit against me! 'What is a lawsuit?' said I; 'I don't have lawsuits. As the ware is, so is the money.' And do you know, gentlemen, what else I said? 'The Herr Notary, and the Herr Pomuffelskopp and I are three Jews, but four might be made of us if the two gentlemen could count for three.' Oh, they made an uproar! They abused me all over the city. But the Herr Burgomeister said to me, 'Moses, you do a great business, but you have never yet had a law-suit, let them work!' Herr Kammerrath, you shall have the money to-day, at your offer, of commission and interest, for you are a good man, and you treat your people well, and you have a good name in the land, and you shall not have to deal with Pomuffelskopp."

To borrow money is a hard piece of work, and he who writes this knows it by many years' experience, and can speak of it accordingly; but it makes a difference whether one appeals to the kindness of an old friend, or turns to a man who makes a business of this business. The Kammerrath had debts on his estate, quite a number of debts; but they were not significant bills of exchange, and his money affairs had usually been arranged by writing, or through the medium of lawyers or merchants; he was now for the first time not in a situation to raise money easily, in the old way, he had been obliged to go himself to a money-Jew--for so he called this sort of people; the repulsion which he felt for this course, the very different place, and manner, and disposition which he found here, the anxiety caused by the objections of Moses at the outset, and now at last the speedy help which relieved him from his pressing emergency, had overpowered the sick man; he turned pale and sank back in his chair, and Habermann called for a glass of water.

"Herr Kammerrath," cried Moses, "perhaps a little drop of wine, I can have half a pint brought from the merchant, in a moment."

"No, water! water!" cried Habermann, and Moses ran out of the door, and nearly upset David,--for David had been listening a little to the money business, in order that he might finally become ripe,--"David what are you doing, why don't you bring some water?"

And David came, and the Kammerrath drank water, and recovered himself, and Moses told out the louis-d'ors on the table, and the Kammerrath picked them out of the dirt, and looked at his hands, and they seemed quite as clean as before; and as he got into the carriage, and looked back from it into Moses' entry, it seemed to him as if among Moses' pelts and mutton bones, there was a great bundle, and that was his own trouble. And Moses stood in the door, and bowed and bowed, and looked round at his neighbors to find whether they saw that the Herr Kammerrath had been to him.

But for all the great honor, he did not sink under it. He held up his head, and got Habermann aside, and said, "Herr Inspector, you are an honest man; when I agreed to this business, I did not know the man was so sick. You must promise me that the money shall be secured on the estate. It is a matter of life and death. What am I doing with a sick man and a note!"

The Kammerrath was relieved from his embarrassment; his agitation subsided, his health improved, he looked at the world with quite different eyes; and as Habermann, a few days later, again mentioned the renting of the Pastor's field, he listened, and gave Habermann permission to talk with Pastor Behrens. He did so, and during the interview the little Frau Pastorin bustled about in the room, and it sounded in the ears of the Pastor and Habermann continually,--"A higher sum! A higher sum!"

"Yes," said Habermann, "that is understood. Frau Pastorin, the rent must be raised; times are better, but there will be no difficulty in the matter,--the advantage lies on both sides."

"Regina," said her Pastor, "it occurs to me that the flowers at the end of the garden have not been watered."

"Ah, my dear life!" cried the Pastorin, and bustled out of the door, "the flowers!"

"So," said the Pastor, "now we can soon settle it. I must confess to you, that I prefer to have a renter from outside, rather than one belonging to the place; there are so many little differences which spring from such immediate neighborhood, and make such a relation so doubtful and annoying, as it ought not to be between landlords and ministers. And the Kammerrath is personally much dearer to me than the new owner,--I have known him so many years. And you think I may demand a higher rent?"

"Yes, indeed, Herr Pastor, and I am authorized to offer you the half more. If I wished to rent the land myself, I could offer you still more; but----"

"We understand each other, dear Habermann," said the Pastor, "we are agreed in the matter."

And when the Frau Pastorin again bustled in with the little Louise, and cried out, "It was not necessary! Louise had already attended to the matter!" then was her Pastor's business all settled, and the dear little Louise hung around her father's neck: "Ah, father, father, that is so good!" Why should she hang about her father's neck? What had she to do with rent-contracts? Much, much! Her father would now be a little nearer to the Pastor's garden, ploughing and harvesting, and she should see him the oftener.

As Habermann went back through the church-yard, he met Zachary Bräsig, who had passed happily, out of his dreadfully unphilosophical stage of the gout, into the philosophical, as generally happened when his troubles were over. "Good-day, Karl," said he, "I have been in your quarters a while waiting for you. But the time seemed long, so I made my compliments, meanwhile, to the Herr Kammerrath. He was very glad to see me, and treated me with the greatest kindness; but how the man looks!"

Yes, said Habermann, his master had--God bless him--grown very old and weak, and he for his part feared he was soon to lose the friend he esteemed so highly.

"Yes," nodded Bräsig, "but what is life, Karl? What is human life? See here, Karl, turn it over and over, like a leather money-bag, and not a shilling falls out."

"Bräsig," said Habermann, "I don't know what other people think about it, but it seems to me as if life and labor were one and the same."

"Ho, ho, Karl! now I hear you run on; you got that sentence from Pastor Behrens. He has sometimes talked with me on this subject, and he has given me a description of human life, as if here below it was merely the manuring time, and the Christian belief was the sun and the rain, which made the seed grow, and there above, in the upper regions, came the harvest; but man must work, and take pains and do his part. But Karl, it don't agree, it goes against the Bible. The Bible tells about the lilies of the field; they toil not, and they spin not, and yet our Heavenly Father cares for them. And if our Lord takes care of them, then they live, and they don't labor, and when I have this infamous gout and do nothing,--nothing at all but hunt away the cursed, tormenting flies from my face,--is that labor? and yet I live under the good-for-nothing torture. And Karl," said he, and pointed to the right across the field, "see those two lilies, that are picking their way over here, your gracious Herr Lieutenant, and the youngest Fräulein, have you ever heard that the lieutenant of cuirassiers troubled himself with labor, or that the gracious Fräulein did any spinning? And yet they are both coming, with living bodies, over your rape-stubble."

"Will you wait a moment, Zachary?" said Habermann; "they are coming in this direction, possibly they wish to speak to us."

"For all me!" said Bräsig. "But just look at the Fräulein, how she wades through the rape-stubble with her long skirts and her thin shoes! No, Karl, life is trouble! And it begins always with the extremities, with the legs, and you may observe that with me from my confounded gout, and in the case of the Fräulein by the rape-stubble and her thin shoes. But what I was going to say, Karl--you have had your best time here, for when the Herr Kammerrath is dead, there look out! You will be astonished at the gracious lady, and the three unmarried daughters, and the Herr Lieutenant. Karl," he began again, after a little thought, "I would hold to the crown-prince."

"Eh, what! Bräsig, what are you talking about?" said Habermann, hastily, "I shall go right on my way."

"Yes, Karl, so should I, and so would every body who was not a Jesuit. But look at the gracious Fräulein once more! She goes right on her way too, but through the rape-stubble. Karl----" But the young people were too near, he could say no more; only in an aside he added, "A Jesuit? No! But he is a vocative."

"I thank you, Herr Habermann, that you have waited here for me," said Axel von Rambow, as they came up. "My sister and I are bound on two different expeditions; she is seeking corn-flowers, and I colts; she has found no corn-flowers, and I no colts."

"Gracious lady," said Bräsig, "if you mean by corn-flowers our common field blossoms,--but," he interrupted himself, "how this infamous stubble has ruined your pretty dress, all the flounces torn off!" and with that he bent down as if he would render the young lady the service of a maid.

"No matter!" cried the Fräulein, drawing back a little, "it is an old dress. But where are the corn-flowers?"

"I will show you,--it is a real pleasure,--here close by, near Gurlitz, corn-flowers, and scarlet-runners, and white-thorn, and thistle-blows,--in short, a whole plantation."

"That will do nicely, dear Fidelia," said the lieutenant. "You go with the Herr Inspector Bräsig for the corn-flowers, and I beg Herr Habermann to accompany me to see the colts. For, do you know," said he to Habermann, "my good old papa was in such a good humor this morning, that he has given me permission to select the best of the four-year-old colts for my own use.

"I will show you the animals with pleasure," said Habermann, "there are some fine fellows, among them."

So the two companies separated, and Habermann only heard further how Bräsig said to the Fräulein Fidelia he was very glad to make her acquaintance, because he had once had a dog which was also named, "Fidèle," and she was a famous rat-catcher!

Habermann went with the Herr Lieutenant toward the colt-paddock. They talked together, naturally about farming matters,--the lieutenant was a lively young fellow, and Habermann had known him from childhood,--but the man had learned nothing about them, all his views were too far beyond, and none of his questions were to the point, so that Habermann said to himself, "He is good natured, very good-natured, but he knows nothing, and yet--God bless him--when the old Herr is gone, he must take the estate, and make his living off it!"

As they were come to the paddock, and had mustered the colts, the lieutenant placed himself before Habermann, and asked, "Now, what do you say? which shall I take?"

"The brown," said Habermann.

"I would rather choose the black. Look at the beautiful neck, the fine head!"

"Herr von Rambow," said Habermann, "you don't ride on head and neck, you ride on back and legs; you want a horse for use, and the brown is worth three of the black."

"There seems to be English blood in the black."

"That is true, he is descended from Wildfire; but there is old Mecklenburg blood in the brown, and it is a shame that one should let that go,--that one should not value the good which the fatherland offers, and exchange them for English racers."

"That may be true," said Axel, "but in our regiment my comrades have only black horses,--I decide for the black."

That was a reason which Habermann did not rightly understand, so he was silent, and as they went back, the conversation was a little one-sided; but as they were near the house--right before the door, as if he had spared himself to the last moment--the lieutenant held back the inspector, and with a deep sigh, as if he would shake off a burden from his heart, he said, "Habermann, I have long wished to speak to you privately. Habermann, I have debts,--you must help me! It is nine hundred dollars that I must pay, I must have it."

That was a hard request for Habermann, but in truly serious business, age makes itself respected; he looked the young man of three-and-twenty full in the face, and said shortly, "Herr von Rambow, I cannot do it."

"Habermann, dear Habermann, I have such pressing need of the money."

"Then you must tell your father."

"My father? No, no! He has already paid debts for me, and now he is sick, it would vex him too much."

"Still you must tell him. Such business must not be done with strange people, it should be settled between father and son."

"Strange people?" asked Axel, and looked him so beseechingly and affectionately in the eye, "Habermann, am I then so strange to you?"

"No, Herr von Rambow, no!" cried Habermann, and grasped after the young man's hand, but did not reach it. "You are not strange to me. Anything that I could do for you, I would do quickly. The matter itself is a little thing, and if I could not do it alone, my friend Bräsig would help me out; but dear Herr von Rambow, your father is your natural helper, this step ought not to be delayed."

"I cannot tell my father," said Axel, plucking at a willow-bush.

"You must tell him," said Habermann as impressively as he could. "He suspects that you have concealed debts from him, and it troubles him."

"Has he spoken to you about it?"

"Yes, but only in consequence of his own great embarrassment, which is known to you."

"I know," said Axel, "and I know also the spring at which he has pumped. Well, what my father does, I can do also," added he coldly and shortly, and went in at the court-yard gate.

"Herr von Rambow," cried Habermann, and followed him hastily, "I beseech you, for heaven's sake, not to take this course; it will be in vain, or it will only plunge you into greater difficulty."

Axel did not listen.

A couple of hours later, the Lieutenant von Rambow stood with Moses among the woolsacks and the hides in the entry of the Jew's house,--where David had his pleasure among the mutton-bones, like a bug in a rug,--and was making apparently a last, despairing attack upon Moses' cautious money-bags; but Moses held firmly to the decision: "Really and truly, Herr Baron, I can not. Now, why not, then? Why should I not? I can still serve you, I can still serve you well in the business. See, Herr Baron, there stands David. David where are you, what are you staring at? Come here, David. You see, Herr Baron, there he stands,--he stands before you and he stands before me. I will not wink, I will not blink, I will go into the other room; now you may ask David." And with that, he shoved himself with his right suspender-shoulder, back into the room.

The poor lieutenant's business must stand a bad chance if he had to settle it with David, for if he looked in his shining uniform as if he were riding before the king's carriage, David's outside looked as shabby as if he had been in the marl and dirt-cart. But this business depended less on a stately outside, than on who could best get the cart out of the mud, and at that David was terribly expert. He had three things in and about himself which stood him in good stead; in the first place he had a particularly gorgeous Jew-lubber face, and as he stood there before the lieutenant, and chewed cinnamon-bark, which he stole out of his mother's pantry, on account of the evil odor of the business, and with his head askew, and his hands in his pockets, stared at him, he looked as impudent as if the spirits of all the dead and gone rats, through the long years of the produce business, had entered into him; and then, in the second place, his feelings were tough, much tougher than his father's, and they were not softened by his daily intercourse with the toughest business in the world, with wool, and hides, and flax; and, thirdly, he could make himself as repulsive as he pleased to any one, thanks to this same business.

With such a happily gifted being, the lieutenant could not pull at the same rope. He went very shortly, with a heavy heart, out of the door; and David was so rejoiced over his own style and manners, that he became really compassionate, and he gave him on his way the Christian advice that he should go to the Notary Slusuhr. "He has it," said he, "and he can do it."

Scarcely was the young man out of the door, when Moses sprang out of the room; "David, have you a conscience? I will tell you some news; you have none! How could you send that young man among those cut-throats?"

"I have only sent him to his own people," said David, churlishly; "if he is a soldier, he is a cut-throat himself. If the notary cuts his throat, what do you care? And if he cuts the notary's throat, what do I care?"

"David," said the old man, and shook his head, "I say, you have no conscience."

"What is a conscience?" muttered David to himself; "when you are doing business, you drive me away; when you won't do business, you call me in."

"David," said the old man, "you are still too young!" and went into the room.

"If I am too young now," said David spitefully, "I shall always be too young; but I know a place where I am not too young."

With that, he put on another coat, and went the same way that the lieutenant had gone, to the Notary Slusuhr's.

What he had to do there, and what else was done there, I know not. I know merely that the young Herr von Rambow, the same evening at Pumpelhagen, wrote a number of letters, and sealed up money in them; and that when he had finished, he sighed deeply, as if he had thrown off a burden. The first necessity was met; but he had done like the old woman in the story, he had heated water in the kneading-trough.