Seed-time and Harvest: A Novel

by Fritz Reuter

CHAPTER XLII.

The Sunday after the wedding the young Frau von Rambow was busy in the morning with her housekeeping, and wrote down her expenses in her account book, and then sat in deep thought, till she was wholly disheartened with vague distress and anxiety, for she felt certain that things were going badly with Axel; but she had no idea of the desperate condition at which they had really arrived, through his unwise management, for her worst suspicions and anxieties fell far short of the truth. She merely inferred from his unsteady, hasty demeanor, and the restlessness which drove him hither and thither, that he was in great difficulty. That it was the most extreme difficulty, that the knife was at his throat, and a slight accident, a little maliciousness, might finish the business, she truly did not dream. He had told her nothing; he had ordered horses to be put to the carriage that morning, and had gone off for three days. Where? Why? Those were questions that no longer passed her lips, for why should she knock at a door from which issued only falsehood and evasion? She closed her account book with a sigh, and said to herself, "What is the use? A woman's hands cannot prop up a falling house." And as she saw Fritz Triddelsitz, through the window, strolling wearily and sleepily across the yard, she let her hands fall in her lap, saying, "And all the management depends on him; and it is fortunate too, for he is honest, and has been brought up by Habermann. Ah, Habermann! Habermann!" she cried, and mournful and remorseful thoughts overcame her, and enclosed her in their grasp. Who has not, some time in his life, passed such an hour, when one thought crowds upon the heels of another, like the ghosts of by-gone days, and all point with their fingers to the weak places in our hearts? They will not stir nor move, they stand like wall and mortar, ever pointing to the place, and connecting our present trouble with that place, and calling in our ears, this is the consequence, why hast thou acted thus? And what she had done, had been only out of love; but the ghosts did not turn any for that,--what does a ghost know of love?

As she sat there, Daniel Sadenwater came in, and announced the Herr Proprietor Pomuchelskopp. The Herr was not at home, Frida said. He had told him so, said Daniel, but the Herr Pomuchelskopp had said expressly, he wished to speak with the gracious Frau. "I will come directly," said Frida. She would not have said that usually, but at the moment she was glad to escape from her gloomy thoughts; she had a great aversion to Pomuchelskopp, but still he was a flesh and blood man, he was none of her grisly ghosts.

But she would not have done it, if she had known what awaited her. Pomuchel had previously, and at last on that very morning, held wise counsel with David and Slusuhr, and they were agreed in this conclusion: that it would be best for him to buy the estate of Axel, at private sale; "For" said Pomuchelskopp, "if it comes to an auction, they will put it up too high for me. Ah, how they would drive it up! the old nobility would come together, and some of them have a great deal of money,--and they stick to each other, like burs,--and they would pay his debts, if it came to the hammer, or buy it in for him."

"You must look out for them," said Slusuhr.

"No! no!" cried Pomuchelskopp. "If I can get it quietly, that is the best way. He is as mellow, as mellow as a rotten apple, and I know him, he never looks over the fence, he only reaches after the nearest thing, and if I offer him a good bit of money, enough to pay his debts and have a little left over, he will take it."

"You forget one thing," said the notary, "she is there still."

"Oh, she knows nothing about it," said Muchel. "Fortunate for us, else it would not have gone so far. She looked at me once,--when they had that fuss about the stolen money,--with a pair of eyes that I shall never forget, so long as I live."

"Well," said David, "what of that? she is a woman,--not such a woman as Frau Pomuchelskopp, for she is a dreadfully clever woman,--she is a noble lady, she knows a great deal about some things, and nothing at all about others. If he is mellow, well, she must be made mellow too."

David's advice prevailed; yes, when the poor lady should learn all, blow upon blow, then she must become pliable in their hands, then she would not oppose the sale of the estate; and it was decided that Pomuchelskopp should make a beginning, and the others should follow him, that very morning; they knew that Axel was not at home.

When the Frau von Rambow went down to Pomuchelskopp, he looked as gentle and compassionate as if he were a clergyman, come to condole with her upon her mother's death; he stretched out both hands with a cordial gesture, as if he would take her hand in his, and press it warmly. Not getting her hand, however, he folded his own together, and regarded her with such a fatherly expression, in his old fat eyes, as a crocodile assumes when he is just ready to cry.

He had come, he said, as an old friend, as a true neighbor, to speak with the Herr von Rambow; the business was very pressing, and since the young Herr was not at home, it was necessary that he should speak with the gracious lady. It would be a great grief to him, if he, as a neighbor, could not help, when there was such a misfortune in prospect as the public auction sale of Pumpelhagen.

Frida started back, exclaiming, "Sale of Pumpelhagen!"

And now Pomuchelskopp looked like an unfortunate, innocent mother, who has overlaid her child in sleep; "God bless me!" he cried, "what have I done! I believed, gracious Frau, that you knew already----"

"I know nothing," said Frida, pale, but firm, and looking at the old sinner as if she would look him through; "I know nothing, but I wish to know all. Why should Pumpelhagen be sold?"

"Gracious lady," said the Herr Proprietor, almost wringing his hands, "the many debts----"

"Whom is my husband indebted to?"

"I believe, to many people."

"To yourself, also?"

And now it seemed as if a sluice were drawn up in Pomuchelskopp's heart, and the streams of friendliness, which had been accumulating for long years, were poured out at once upon the house of Pumpelhagen. Yes, he said, he had also demands upon him, but the money which he had loaned had been given out of friendship, and so it should remain. He had merely come over, this morning, to give the young Herr good advice, how the business might be managed, and if possible to help him out of his difficulties. So far as he knew, it was Moses who insisted on the sale, and if his mouth could be stopped everything might be settled. And as he took leave, he said, very kindly, with such a dignified shaking of the head, and much blinking of the eyes, as if to repress tears, if he had known that the gracious lady knew nothing about it, he would rather have pulled out his tongue than have uttered a word on the subject.

If it had been a matter with which she was less nearly connected, she must have perceived the falseness of Pomuchelskopp's behavior; but she had only a vague feeling of it, for distress and terror prevented her from seeing clearly. She felt as if the house had been shaken by an earthquake, as if the walls, which had hitherto protected from the storm, were ready to fall upon her and her child, and bury, beneath themselves, the little happiness she still hoped for in the future, she must get out into the open air, into the garden; and there she walked up and down in the cool shade, thinking and thinking, and it seemed to her as if the very shadows cast by the trees were hers no longer, or even the flowers blooming at her feet, which she herself had planted. She sat down on the same bench where her father-in-law, the old Kammerrath, had sat, when he told Habermann of his troubles; Habermann had helped then,--where was Habermann now? The same tree shadowed her, which she had first seen from the distance when Axel had so proudly pointed out to her his fair estate; where was this pride? where was the estate? To whom did this tree belong?

She sat there for a moment, as she thought, but the moment lasted two hours. She heard steps approaching on the Gurlitz pathway, and started to go; but before she could get away the notary and David stood before her. Slusuhr was a little startled, coming unawares upon the woman whom he was about to put to the torture; but David grinned like a monkey, into whose hand an apple had fallen unexpectedly. The notary went up to the gracious lady with great respect, and with a low bow inquired if they could speak with the gracious Herr.

"He is away from home," said Frida.

"It is very necessary that we should see him," said David. Slusuhr looked at David over his shoulder, as if to say, "Will you hold your stupid tongue?" but he repeated the same words:

"Yes, gracious lady, it is necessary that we should see him."

"Then you must come again on Wednesday; Herr von Rambow is coming back on Tuesday," and she turned to go.

The notary stepped before her, saying, "The business is not so much ours, as the Herr von Rambow's; perhaps a messenger might be sent after him. It is really a very pressing case. We know of a purchaser for Pumpelhagen, a thoroughly safe man, who wishes, however, a definite answer, within three days, whether Herr von Rambow will dispose of the estate at private sale, or let it come to an auction, at the end of the term. The Herr, here, is the son of Moses, who has given notice of his money for St. John's day, and through me, as his man of business, urges the private sale."

Of course this was all a tissue of lies. The fair young Frau stood still and looked at the two rascals; her first fright was over, and all the pride of her innocent soul rose against this undeserved misfortune.

"Gracious lady," said David, after he had fumbled at his watch-chain a while, in great embarrassment under her steady gaze, "bethink yourself; there is my father with the seven thousand thalers,--with the interest and costs, it amounts to eight,--there is Herr Pomuchelskopp's eight thousand thalers, there are the trades-people at Rahnstadt,--we have the accounts by us,--three thousand, then there are the bills of exchange, and, here and there, ten thousand more, owing,--well, what do I know? perhaps to Israel at Schwerin. If you should sell, now, to a safe man, and you could sell the furniture, and the beds, and the linen, you would have ten thousand thalers over, or perhaps eleven, or, for all I know, even twelve thousand. And then, if you should move to Rahnstadt, and rent a house there, you would have nothing to do, and could live like a countess."

Frida said nothing, but bowed coldly to the two companions, and went into the house. Nothing drives a high spirit to defend itself and to present a brave front to the world, like the rude intrusion of the world into one's private affairs. Then the foot advances to tread upon the head of the adder, and pride and honor and a good conscience turn out all other emotions which have restlessly worked in the heart, and there is no longer strife, there is calm repose; but it is like the repose of death.

"There she goes, like a princess!" said David.

"You blockhead, you!" cried Slusuhr. "Well, I will never, in my life, go on any business again with such a dunce."

"Why, what is the matter?" asked David. "Didn't we do just that way with the peasant at Kanin, and the matter was settled at once?"

"Yes, with a peasant. But did you come into the world yesterday, that you don't know that a noble lady is no peasant? We wanted to make her mellow and pliable--well, much good may it do you! we have only stiffened her neck. If it had come over him in that way, he would have said yes to everything; but," he added, rather to himself than to David, "there are men,--yes, and women, truly,--who are really strong, for the first time, under misfortune."

As they returned to the Herr Proprietor, and he learned how the young Frau had received them, he was greatly enraged.

"Good heavens!" said he to David, "how is it possible you could go about such a critical business in such a rough way? You should merely have bored and pricked and teased her, instead of setting her whole future life before her. God bless me! I had it all so nicely in train; and now, you shall see, when he comes home she will stiffen his back up as well, and the end will be, it will come to an auction."

"Then you can buy it," said Slusuhr.

"No, no! They will drive it up too high for me, and it joins so finely to my estate!" So the worthy Herr complained and disputed with the others, and consulted what should be done, and how they could manage it.

In another part of Gurlitz, there were also consultations going on. In weaver Ruhrdanz's room, day-laborers and day-laborers wives were sitting together, and the talk that went round was not hasty and reckless, but thoughtful and deliberate, though venomous.

"Well, what do you say, brother?"

"Eh, what should one say? He must be got rid of, he is a regular skinner! Well, now you, Ruhrdanz?"

"You are right there, I say so, too; he must be got rid of! But, friends, you should see, they would send him back to us again. If we only had papers about it, so that he dare not come back."

"Oh, your stupid papers!" cried a great rough woman, from behind the stove, "when you come home, in the evenings, from the city, with your heads full of brandy, you are ready to do great things, and afterwards you flop together, like a dish-cloth. What? Must I send my children about the country, begging? I have had no bread, for three days, but such as the children have brought home."

"Things are a little better than they were, though," said old father Brinkman.

"Yes," cried Willgans, "but from fear, not from kindness. We will go up to the court, each with a good staff, and there we will teach him to know the Lord, and then we will lead him over the boundary, and give him a start on the way: 'There! now travel!'"

"What?" cried Kapphingst, "and that Satan of a woman, who almost killed my girl about an old chicken, will you let her stay?"

"And the old girls," cried a young woman, "who tormented us so, when we were servants at the court, and seemed like merciful angels in the parlor, when there was company, and knocked us round in the kitchen, like regular devils,--shall they stay too?"

"We must get rid of the whole concern," said Willgans.

"No, children, no!" said old Brinkman. "Do not meddle with the innocent children!"

"Yes," said Ruhrdanz's old wife, who sat by herself, peeling potatoes for dinner, "you are right, Brinkman, and Gustaving must stay too; I saw him bringing old Schultz a measure of potatoes, secretly; and when he measures the land for potatoes and flax, he always gives a couple of rods more than he does; and, Willgans, see! your oldest boy wears a pair of his outgrown breeches, at this moment. He cannot do as he would, the old man looks after him too closely. No, against Gustaving and the little ones, nobody must lift a hand."

"Mother, I say so, too," said Ruhrdanz. "And, let me tell you something, we must do everything regularly! The others are not here now; this evening we will talk about it again. He will not be at home; Johann Jochen had to get the glass coach ready, they are going to the ball, in the city, this evening; then we can talk it over."

"Yes," cried the great rough woman, "yes, talk and talk! You drink your heads full of brandy, and we are starving. If you don't get rid of these people, we shall do it, for we can do as other women have done, all over the country; thorn-bushes and nettle-stalks are not far to seek." With that, she went out of the door, and the company dispersed.

"Bernhard," said Ruhrdanz's wife to him, "the matter may turn out badly."

"So I say, mother, and you are quite right; but if the business is only conducted with regularity, the grand-duke can have nothing against it. The only trouble is that we have no proper papers to show; but if he should have to show his papers, fine papers they would be."

Ruhrdanz was right; as for the grand-duke, I don't know about that; but he was right about the glass coach, and Pomuchelskopp's journey to the ball; for towards evening the Herr Proprietor sat in the coach, in his blue dress-coat, and his brave, old Häuning sat by him, looking, in her yellow-brown silk, like one of her own cookies, with all sorts of scalloped flourishes, though the soapy flavor was lacking; she was as dry and tough as a leather strap, and her bones clattered over the rough roads, like a bunch of hazelnuts, hung in the chimney-corner. Opposite sat the two fair daughters, sumptuously arrayed; but greatly vexed, because their father positively insisted upon taking them to this ball, a burgher ball. To punish him for it, they made no effort to amuse him, and talked of the burghers as canaille, and also wrought vengeance upon his shins, by the way, by means of the new hoops in their crinoline, which the wheelwright had put in freshly, that morning, of stout hazel stock. Gustaving sat by the coachman, Johann Jochen, on the box.

I cannot think of dancing, this evening, with my pretty readers, at the fraternity ball, I am too old, and besides, it is only three days since Rudolph's wedding, where I did my utmost. I will merely go as a spectator, and enjoy the pleasant summer evening, on the bench before Grammelin's door; I can look into the hall for a few moments, later in the evening, and drink a glass of punch, and fraternize a little, like the rest.

There were great doings at Grammelin's. All the grandees of Rahnstadt were there, the burghers, head and tail and neck and crop, a few proprietors, Pomuchelskopp at the head, a few noblemen and their sons,--their wives were not there, they were all troubled with corns that afternoon, and the daughters were absent from home,--the pächters in the neighborhood, and the young country people came in crowds. Very few of our friends were to be seen, for it was church-going with Jochen Nüssler's family, and the Frau Pastorin and Habermann and Louise had gone out there, and Rector Baldrian and Kurz, with their wives and Bräsig, had also gone, but had returned in time to go to the ball. Kurz did not go, however, for he had been so provoked over Jochen's stout relations, that his wife put him to bed, which was a good thing, not only for himself, but for Herr Süssmann and the ball, for the young Herr could manage his affairs as dance-director without disturbance. He had got himself a new pair of trousers, and had put so much lard on his hair, that there was plenty to spare to grease his joints with. The little assessor went with her parents, and Fritz Triddelsitz, who was aware that she was coming, appeared as a proprietor of the highest rank, connected with the nobility. The little pupil, whose groschens were all gone, and who had discovered that Bräsig's niece would not be there, sat just across the street from Grammelin's, before a forlorn old piano, which he belabored, while he sung:

"Mich fliehen alle Freuden, ich sterb vor Ungeduld,"

and so forth, only he mispronounced, in his distress, and said:

"Mich freuen alle Fliegen!"

Rector Baldrian came, with his wife, and Bräsig with Schultz the carpenter, and Slusuhr and David. David had on two gold rings more than usual, which had been given him in pawn, and chewed cinnamon bark, to counteract the odor of the produce business.

And when they were all there, and they were ready to begin, David Berger played the "Mamsell jäs"--as the dyer Meinswegens called the thing,--and Herr Süssmann sang out, quite loud:

"Allons enfant de la partie!"

At first, all seemed very good-natured, but, as a whole, there wasn't much fraternity. On one side it was all right, the young gentlemen among the grandees, and those from the country, were very brotherly towards the pretty little burghers' daughters; but the young ladies from the country, and the grandees' daughters, were positively determined not to fraternize with the burghers' sons, and the first open quarrel began with Malchen Pomuchelskopp. The shoemaker, the wit of the Reformverein, who was a burgher's son in Rahnstadt, asked her to dance, and she thanked him, but she was engaged; and then she sat there, and waited for Fritz Triddelsitz or Herr Süssmann, or some other helping angel, whom providence might send to dance the next hop waltz with her. But there were no angels of the kind ready, and she remained sitting. The rogue of a shoemaker cracked his jokes over it, and at last said, quite aloud, that if the distinguished ladies would not dance with them, they ought not to let the distinguished gentlemen dance with their women-folks, for they had not come there to look at each other. And then the storm broke upon the poor, pretty, innocent, little burghers' daughters, and their brothers and lovers attacked them: "Fika, don't you dance any more with that long-legged apothecary's son!" and "Dürt, wait, I shall tell mother!" and "Stine, another dance with the advocate, and we are parted!" So it went through the hall, and at last it came to Father Pomuchelskopp's ears, how the trouble originated, and it disturbed him so much that he went to Malchen, and represented to her in the most pathetic terms the mischief she had done. The shoemaker, he said, was a very worthy young man, he was counted equal to any ten in the Reformverein, on account of his terrible wit, and it must be made up, and in spite of all her opposition Father Pomuchelskopp took his educated daughter upon his arm, and led her through the hall to the shoemaker, and said it was a great mistake, his daughter would consider it a special honor to dance with such a distinguished member of the Reformverein. And, behold! the shoemaker and Malchen were dancing together!

Father Pomuchel had now, so to speak, sacrificed his first born upon the altar of fraternity, but it did not avail much, the discordant elements would not harmonize. Uncle Bräsig was doing his utmost, on the other side, he puffed about in his brown dress-coat, introduced Herr von So and So to the wife of Thiel the joiner, and compelled himself to walk arm-in-arm, about the hall, with his worst enemy in the Reformverein, the tailor Wimmersdorf, and at last, before everybody, gave the wife of Johann Meinswegens, the dyer, a couple of fraternity kisses on her red face; but it was a hopeless task, what could one man accomplish, though with the best will in the world? "Herr Schultz," he said, at last, quite worn out with his labors, "when it comes to the eating and drinking, I hope we may be a little more brotherly; the dancing only seems to bring us farther apart."

But even the eating and drinking did not help the matter; the people of rank sat at one end of the table, the burghers at the other; at one end they drank champagne, at the other a frightful tipple, which Grammelin sold, with the greatest impudence, as fine red wine, at twelve shillings the bottle. The shoemaker, indeed, was invited by Pomuchelskopp to be his guest at table, he sat by Malchen, and Father Pomuchel filled his glass assiduously; the dyer, Meinswegens, had sat down with his wife between two proprietors, and ordered "Panschamber," for he had filled his pocket with four-groschen pieces; but when he went to pay he became aware that he had made a mistake, in the twilight, for he brought out a handful of dyer's tickets. Bräsig had seated himself between a couple of the dearest little burghers' daughters, whom he treated in such a fatherly way that the Frau Pastorin, if she had seen it, would not have given him a good word for a week, and Gottlieb would certainly have preached him a sermon; but what good did it all do? Grammelin's sour wine did not suit well with his champagne, and so at supper they were farther asunder than ever.

"Herr Schultz," said Bräsig to his old friend, who sat opposite, "now it is time to play our last trump, you speak to Herr Süssmann, I will tell David Berger."

Herr Schultz went round to Herr Süssmann. "Have you your song-books ready?"

"Oh, yes."

"Go ahead, then! Now is the time!"

Herr Süssmann distributed the songbooks, while Bräsig went up to David Berger, and inquired:

"Herr Berger, do you know that air of Schiller's:

"'Schwester mit das Leinwand mieder,
Bruder in das Ordensband?'"

"Yes, indeed," said David.

"Well, go ahead, then! Begin!" And suddenly resounded through the hall:

"Freude, schöner Gutter funken,"

but fewer and fewer voices joined the chorus, weaker and weaker grew the song, till, at last, old Uncle Bräsig stood there, with the book before his nose, and the tears running down his cheeks, and sung:

"Seid umschlungen Millionen,
Untergang der Lügenbrut!"

That was too strong, they couldn't stand that. "Lying brood!" No, that was too much; they all lied, to be sure, but only when it was necessary. The company rose from table, very much out of humor. Bräsig sat down in a corner and began to grumble, he was vexed to his inmost heart; the young people began to dance again, and David and Slusuhr sat in an adjoining room, drinking champagne, and cracking their jokes over Uncle Bräsig.

"Herr Inspector," said the carpenter Schultz to Bräsig, after a while, "there are some people sitting in No. 3, and the notary and David are poking fun at you, because you bring your politics into everything, and the notary said, if the French should get no king after Louis Philippe, then you might become King of France; you had nothing to do, and might like the situation."

"Did he say that?" asked Uncle Bräsig, rising from the corner, with great energy.

"Yes, he said that, and the others laughed at it."

"And he is sitting in Grammelin's No. 3?"

"Yes, he is sitting there."

"Come with me, Herr Schultz."

Bräsig was angry, as I have said, he was exceedingly angry; the fine fraternity fête, from which he had hoped so much for mankind, was hopelessly ruined; he felt like the patriarch Abraham, when he offered up his darling child, he would have nothing more to do with it, he would go home; then providence sent him this scapegoat, upon whom he could express his anger, and so much the better, since he was the friend and tool of Pomuchelskopp.

"Come along, Herr Schultz," said he, crossing the hall with great strides to the dressing room, where he had left his hat and buckthorn walking-stick. The hat he left there, but the stick he took with him to No. 3.

There were many guests sitting here, over their bottles, and laughing at the jokes of the Herr Notary. All at once a great silence fell upon the merry company, as they saw a face among them which frightened them out of their laughter. That was Bräsig's, which looked, in a very singular way, first at his buckthorn stick, and then at the notary, so that the company, with a suspicion of what might possibly happen, hastened to withdraw from the table.

"What rascal wanted to make me King of France?" cried Bräsig, in such a voice that the plastering fell from the ceiling, and his stick seemed like a live thing in his hand: "I will not be made King of France!"--whack! came the buckthorn, between the notary's shoulder-blades. "Oh Lord!"--"I will not be made King of France!" and a second time the buckthorn did its work, and Uncle Bräsig and his stick alternated in the assurance that they had no ambition for the French crown. Candlesticks, lamps and bottles entered actively into the battle-royal, and David got under the table, that is to say, he crept there for refuge. The notary shrieked for help, but no one stood by him; only when the affair was over, David plucked up courage, under the table, to inquire: "Begging your pardon, Herr Inspector, is this what you call fraternity?"

"Yes!" cried Bräsig, "you miserable scamp! Between a man and a dog, blows are the best fraternity."

"Out! out!" said Herr Schultz and he grappled David, under the table, and dragged him to light.

"Gentlemen," cried Slusuhr, "you are witnesses how I have been treated, I shall enter a complaint."

"I have seen nothing," said one.

"I know nothing about it," said another.

"I was looking out of the window," said a third, although it was pitch dark.

"Herr Schultz," said Bräsig, "you are my witness that I have treated the Herr Notary Slusuhr with the greatest forbearance," and with that, he left the room, got his hat, and went home.

The blows which Slusuhr had received in No. 3 had echoed by this time through the hall, and in no way tended to harmonize the existing discords. The two Herrs von So and So with their sons had taken leave long before, and some of the grandees had also quietly retreated. The little assessor had her hat on, and her cloak wrapped around her, though Fritz Triddelsitz was almost on his knees before her, begging for one more, just one more little Schottische.

Pomuchelskopp also prepared for departure; he had an indefinite, but just, premonition that something was going to happen to him that evening, so he went to his family and told them it was time they were starting for home. His family afforded a sad picture of the whole entertainment, for they were quite divided. Gustaving was still hopping about, contentedly, with tailor Wimmersdorf's youngest daughter, Salchen was standing a little aside with Herr Süssmann, listening attentively while he related how merely by way of joke he had taken the stupid situation at Kurz's shop, but he should remain there no longer than till he could decide which of the places to accept, which were offered to him in Hamburg, Lübeck or Stettin, or possibly he might conclude to establish himself in Rostock, for he had a rich uncle there, who was constantly urging him to get married and come and live with him. Malchen sat in a sofa-corner, crying with vexation over her shoemaker. Klücking, our brave old Häuning, sat there stiff as a stake; however agitated by the events of the evening she may have been, she gave no sign, she remained steadfast, even the shoemaker had not moved her out of her composure, and when Muchel proposed that they should go she merely said, in a very friendly way, "Pöking, will you not invite your friend, the shoemaker, to ride with us? You might also invite one of your noble acquaintances. And then, if you ask weaver Ruhrdanz, and Willgans, and your other brothers of the Reformverein, the company will be complete."

And with this matrimonial sting in his great fraternal heart, our friend set off on his homeward journey.