Lenz turned round, and Petrowitsch, for the first time in his life, laid his hand on his nephew's shoulder, who seemed moved by this action, and still more by the words Petrowitsch uttered with considerable emotion.
"I should like not to have lived entirely in vain for those who belong to me. I will give you what many men would have given their lives to have had, if given to them in time—good advice. Lenz, when a man is overheated and excited, he must not venture to drink, for he may cause his death; and he who dashes the glass out of his hand does him a service. There is, however, a different kind of excitement, when a man must equally avoid drinking; that is, doing anything which is to affect the whole course of his life. He may thus also incur death—a low, lingering sickness. You ought not to decide on any marriage at present, even if you had not chosen Annele. You are overheated; pause till you have recovered your breath, and six months hence talk over the matter with yourself. Let me go to the Landlord, and break off the affair for you. They may abuse me as much as they like—I don't care. Will you take my advice, and put an end to the thing? If not, you will bring on a chronic disease, which no doctor can ever cure."
"I am betrothed. It is too late now for advice," answered Lenz.
The cold perspiration stood on his forehead when he left his uncle's house.
"But this is only the way of old bachelors—their hearts get hard. Pilgrim and my uncle are very much alike. One thing is diverting! Pilgrim thinks the father the only honest one among them, and my uncle says the same of Annele. I suppose the third person I speak to on the subject, will tell me the old woman is the best of the lot. They may one and all go to the deuce! I need no one to back me; I am quite man enough to act for myself. I must put an end to every one interfering in this manner with my concerns. An hour hence I hope to be accepted as a member of a highly considered family."
An hour had not elapsed when Lenz was accepted. Pilgrim's speeches, and those of his uncle, had no influence over him; but that was their own fault. When he went straight to Annele's father, unshaken by all remonstrances, to ask for Annele's hand, he hoped inwardly that she would be aware of this, and thank him for having stood firm in spite of every dissuasion.
Annele held her muslin apron to her eyes with one hand, and clasped Lenz's hand with the other, when pledges were exchanged. The Landlord walked up and down the room, his new boots creaking loudly. The Landlady imagined that she was shedding real tears, and exclaimed: "Good heavens! must I give my last child away? When I go to rest, or when I rise in the morning, I shall feel utterly helpless. Where is my Annele? But one thing I distinctly say now, I won't hear of the marriage for a year to come. We don't need to tell you, Lenz, that you are dear to us, when we are bestowing our last child on you! Oh, if your mother had only lived to see this day! But she will rejoice over it in heaven!"
These words were so touching, that Lenz shed tears. If the Landlord's boots involuntarily creaked as an accompaniment to his wife's speech, they now creaked louder and quicker than ever. At last the Landlord's boots were silent, and his lips began.
"Enough for the present. Let us be men, Lenz;—compose yourself;—quite right. Now tell me what portion you expect with your wife."
"I never asked about her portion; she is your child, and you will do all you can. I am not rich, my profession is my chief source of income, but I have my parents to thank, for having provided against any evil day. There is no lack: we can have our daily bread, and to spare."