"I need not be thinking of you. For you are my other self."
It was a clear, mild, winter day when, accompanied by Joseph and Richard, I drove to the neighboring town in which the meeting was to be held. It was Richard's intention to return to the University at the close of the meeting.
Rothfuss had fully recovered. Displaying his new stockings, and wearing his forester's coat, he sat up on the driver's box, while he managed the bays. Although he entertained a deep contempt for mankind in general, and for that portion of it that lived in our neighborhood in particular, he was always willing to take part in anything that was done in my honor.
He often remarked that the people did not deserve that one should walk three steps for their sake. He would never forget the way in which they had treated the chieftains of 1848; or that a man like Ludwig, to whom he always accorded most generous praise, was obliged to leave his home, while no one had a thought for him, or for the one who had suffered himself to be imprisoned for his sake.
The road led through the valley, and was cheerful with the sound of the sleigh-bells. Rothfuss cracked his whip, and soon distanced all the other drivers.
Here and there, sleighs might be seen coming down the hillside. At the village taverns, teams were resting, and from every window, as well as from passers on the highway, came respectful greetings, and at times even enthusiastic cheers.
In token of his thanks, Rothfuss cracked his whip still more loudly.
He would look around from time to time, as if noting how much pleasure these tokens of respect afforded me. But once he said to Richard, "It is all very well, Mr. Professor; but if the weather were to change, all these cheers would freeze in the mouths that are now uttering them. We have known something of that kind already."
I must admit, however, that these attentions did my heart good. There is nothing in the associations of home that is more grateful than to be able to say to one's self, "I live in the midst of my voters. I do my duty without fear or favor, and without my asking for office, my fellow-citizens select me as their representative in the councils of the nation."
Like the breath of the woods such homage has a fragrance peculiarly its own. I cannot believe in the sincerity of one who, from so-called modesty, or affected indifference to the opinions of his fellow-citizens, would refuse office when thus offered to him. I frankly admit that it is not so unpleasant to me to find that others think at least as well, or even better of me, than I do.