"Softly! softly!" said Kummas, "or you will wake up my little rogue. Yes, I assure you, a whole night's playing on the violincello is a mere joke, compared with the watching all night by the bed of a sick child. I now see how much a mother has to do for her children, and how well founded are her claims to their gratitude."
"Therefore you are an old ass," said Schubert, quite angrily. "Shake yourself free of the child again."
"No!" answered Kummas firmly. "Some one must act the part of a mother to the poor thing, or it would perish, and that would be a sin. But after all, I must say, that my cares, my self-denial, and watchings are over-balanced by the pleasure I find in the child. When the little rascal smiles in my face, pinches my cheeks, or plays with my hair, all my trouble is forgotten. Nothing delights him so much as when I play a tune on the violin. Then is he all life; beats with his feet and claps his hands. He must be a musician, but a proper one. Not a miserable beer-fiddler, like you and me."
"I beg to decline the compliment," said the flute-player displeased. "You have become a fool about the child. I have only now to ask whether you are coming to play on Sunday along with us?"
"Since I know, from experience," replied Kummas, "how great is the trouble of bringing up a child, I cannot lend my aid by playing at dances, to destroy, perhaps, in one night the many years incessant labour of conscientious parents."
"What have we to do with that?" asked Schubert.
"Much, as I now perceive," replied the old man. "Yet I will not promise never to play again, were it only for the sake of Christlieb. But as long as I find some other kind of employment, and until the child is older, I will not."
"Do as you like, you old fool!" said Schubert in a passion, and went away.
Kummas comforted himself with the knowledge that he was doing right. "What! you young monkey; are you awake, and smiling? Oh! yes, I see you want your meat. So come away, and you shall have it directly."
CHAPTER IV.