Weeping, she laid the picture into her hymn-book. It was the old story of what occurs in thousands of instances, in town and country, though often the colors are more blended and the contrasts not so harsh. Crescence loved Florian, and yet could not renounce the hope of a good establishment, such as she might expect to receive at the hands of the geometer: love drew her in one direction, interest in another. It would be strange if such discords did not lead to misery.
5.
FLORIAN DROPS A BUTTON OR TWO.
Florian remained in the village, and slaughtered first one heifer and then another. Though at first things looked prosperous, the run of good luck soon came to an end. The old butcher went around hawking out the meat which had not been sold at the shambles; but he generally spent not only the profit, but the cost besides. The competition of the Jewish butchers was not to be overcome even by Florian's superior skill; for the Jews can undersell Christians in the hindquarters of beef, because an opportune provision of the Bible forbids them to eat any thing but the fore-quarters. Moreover, it is almost impossible in a German village to support a household on mechanical labor alone, without some resort to agriculture. Florian had no opportunity, and still less inclination, to till the soil. He preferred to go into partnership with a Jewish butcher for a time; but this was also of short duration.
His next resource was to assist the Strasbourg butchers in purchasing oxen. This helped him to some good commissions, and enabled him to make his father the happiest of men. The old gentleman was restored to his favorite occupation of guessing at the weight of oxen. It quite made him young again. Florian was the leading young man in the village. Unfortunately, he made the squire his enemy. The latter, wishing to sell his oxen to some dealers passing through the village, invited Florian to come to his house. "They weigh fourteen hundred, and over," he asseverated. "What they weigh over eleven," said Florian, "I'll eat raw." This was foolish; for from that day the squire hated him cordially.
Florian cared but little for this, however: he played the fine gentleman every Sunday, played longest at ninepins, and was a fast man generally.
It is strange how soon the glory of the stranger in a village is consumed. The honor acquired merely by presenting an unusual appearance ceases the moment all eyes have become accustomed to it: the rainbow would be forgotten if it were always in the sky. Thus, Florian soon sunk into oblivion; and it required a special occurrence to attract attention to him again.
One evening he was standing, with his comrades, near the Eagle, while the squire sat on a bench before the house, talking to the geometer. Florian perceived that they were looking at him: he saw the squire pass his hand over his upper lip, while the geometer laughed immoderately and said something which sounded like "Samson." Florian did not understand what it all meant; but he was soon to have an explanation.
He received a summons next day to appear before the squire, who, as our renders may remember, had formerly been a non-commissioned officer. He now ordered Florian to "take the hair off his mouth," because he had never been a soldier, and none but soldiers were allowed to wear mustaches. Florian laughed at the squire, who took it in dudgeon; Florian answered his vituperations, and was marched off to prison.
It is a dangerous thing to arrest a man who is innocent of crime: it palls his feeling and his sense of moral responsibility for those occasions in which these qualities are particularly tried.