The little Barefoot

by Berthold Auerbach

In the mean time, Mariann was not forgotten, although it was very difficult to soften, and bring her round again. She said she would have nothing more to do with Barefoot, whose new master would not allow her to continue the intercourse with Mariann, especially to take the child there, fearing, as they said, “that the witch might do him an injury.” It needed great skill and patience, to overcome this aversion. But at last, it succeeded. Yes, little Barefoot knew how to bring it about, so that at last, Farmer Rodel visited Mariann many times. This was looked upon as a real miracle by the whole village. The visits were soon again stopped, for Mariann on one occasion said,—

“I am now near seventy years old, and have done very well, without the friendship of any great farmer. It is not worth while for me to change now.”

Dami also wished, very naturally, to be often with his sister; but this the young farmer would not suffer, for he said, not without justice,—

“That he should have to feed this big, growing youth. In such a house, he could not prevent the servants from sometimes giving him something to eat.” He also forbade his coming on Sunday afternoons to visit his sister. Dami had, in the mean time, anticipated the comfort of being in so well-stored a home, and his mouth watered to be there, if only as a servant. The stone-mason’s was a hungry life. Barefoot had much to overcome. “He must remember,” she said, “that this was his second craft, and that he must persevere; it was a mistake to think he would gain any thing by changing. If good fortune came, it would come where he was, or not at all.” Dami was for a time silenced, and so great was the influence of Amrie, and so natural the care she took of her brother, that he was always called, “Little Barefoot’s Dami,” as though he were her son, rather than her brother, although a whole head taller than his sister. Meantime, he did not appear to be subject to her. Indeed, he often fretted about it, that he was not esteemed as much as his sister, because he had not her tongue. This dissatisfaction with himself and his position, was always poured out first upon Amrie. She bore it patiently, and while he, outwardly and ostentatiously, showed that she must submit to him, she evidently gained still more respect and consideration. Every one said, “how good it was of Barefoot to do so much for her brother, and to put up with his bad treatment, while she worked for him as a mother would for her child.” In fact, she washed and sewed for him during the night, so that he was always the neatest-dressed boy in the village. The two pairs of welted shoes that she received every half-year, as a part of her wages, she exchanged with the shoemaker for a pair for Dami, and went barefoot herself. On Sunday, only, was she seen going to church with shoes. Barefoot was much grieved that Dami had become, they knew not how, the common centre for all the jokes and ridicule of the village. She blamed him severely, and told him he should not suffer it. But, he answered, “she might prevent it, he could not.” This was impossible, and it did not seriously displease Dami to be so treated. It wounded him, sometimes, when all in the village laughed at him, and those younger than himself took liberties with him, but it vexed him much more not to be noticed by any one, and this led him to make a fool of himself, and expose himself to perpetual ridicule.

With Barefoot, on the contrary, the danger was that she would become the Hermit that Mariann had always predicted she would be. She had once a solitary playmate and confidante, the daughter of Mathew the coal-burner; but this girl had for some years worked in a factory in Alsatia, and nothing more was heard of her. Barefoot lived so much within herself, that she was not reckoned among the young people of the village. She was friendly and talkative with those of her own age, but Brown Mariann was her only confidante. Thus because Amrie lived so apart from others, she had no influence upon the relation which Dami held to others, who, however much he was joked and laughed at, must always cling to companions, and could never bear to be alone like his sister.

At this time, Dami suddenly made himself quite free, and one pleasant Sunday showed his sister the earnest money he had received. He had hired himself as farm-servant to Scheckennarr of Hirlingen.

“Had you told me,” said Barefoot, “I had found a better service for you. I would have given you a letter to Farmer Landfried’s wife, of Allgäu, and they would have treated you like a son of the house.”

“Oh! say nothing about that,” said Dami. “It is now nearly thirteen years that she has owed me a pair of leather breeches she promised me. Don’t you recollect it,—when we were little, and thought if we knocked, father and mother would open the door? Do not speak of the farmer’s wife,—who knows whether reminded with a word, she would remember us? Who knows whether she is alive?”

“Yes, she lives yet. She is a relation of our family, and is often mentioned there. She has married all her children, except one son, who will have the farm.”

“Now, you would disgust me with my new service,” complained Dami, “and tell me I could have had a better. Is that right?” His voice trembled.