"Yes, that's so," replied Jochen, "but my sergeant in Berlin always said it was no vice."
Jochen Prebrow turned back to his horses. He had established the identity between his stately passenger and the slender playfellow of his childhood, upon which he had been reflecting all day, and was perfectly satisfied. Gotthold too was silent; it moved him deeply to think he could have travelled nearly all day with worthy Jochen, as if he had been a total stranger.
Jochen Prebrow, the son of the Dollan blacksmith! The pleasant days again rose before him when he left P. with Curt Wenhof for the holidays, which must always be spent in Dollan, and Jochen stood on the moor where the road branched off from the highway, waiting for them, and waving his cap; Jochen, who was well aware that his good times were coming with the pair, times of catching fish and snaring birds under the care of old Cousin Boslaf, to say nothing of a thousand wild, thoughtless pranks on land and sea for which Curt always undertook to be answerable to his good-natured father.
"And the young master is dead too," said Jochen Prebrow, again turning half-round on his seat, in token that having settled the principal matter, he was now ready to proceed to details.
Gotthold nodded.
"Drowned sailing on the Spree," continued Jochen, "and yet he was skilful as any sailor, and could swim like a fish; it was very queer, but he told me that he should come to such an end some day." He filled his pipe afresh.
"When did he tell you so?"
"He had come from Gr. to his sister's wedding, and afterwards was to go to Berlin and show whether he had learned his lessons, and he would probably have come off badly, for our young master was never fond of study. So he told me about it when we came back from P., where the wedding took place. I drove the carriage because old Christian was sick, and then we went at full speed to Dollan, where a great breakfast was served, and our young master had probably been drinking a little too much when he came out to the stable, threw himself down on the straw, and began to sob pitifully.
"What's the matter, young master?" said I.
"Ah! Jochen," he answered, "it's all up. I begged my father to let me be a farmer, for he would never make a lawyer of me; but he says we have nothing, nothing at all; he can't even pay my sister's dowry."