At last, George, the clergyman's man-servant, and Hawermann brought the sledge to the door, and then the two guests said good-bye. Hawermann's first action before driving away was silently to take off the sledge-bells, for the great bells in the church-tower were ringing out their message to the whole world, while the sledge-bells only kept up a merry tinkle for the high road. They drove through the village at a foot's pace, and as they passed along they heard a sweet Christmas Carol rising from many a labourer's hut and ascending to the quiet heavens where God had placed the lights of His great Christmas tree, under which the earth was stretched like a table covered with the pure white cloth of snow that winter had spread over it, and which spring, summer and autumn were in turn to deck with flowers and fruit in due season.
They drove slowly out of the village, and when they came to the turn of the road, Frank caught sight of Pomuchelkopp's manor house with its brilliantly lighted windows: "They are keeping Christmas there too," he said.--Yes, presents were given and received there, but Christmas was not kept.
Pomuchelskopp had bought everything in Rostock, nothing in Rahnstädt. "One should always do things in style!" he said, and then he told how much he had paid for Mally's and Sally's new dresses, and when Sally heard that Mally's had cost six shillings more than hers, she was jealous of her sister, and Mally thought herself much better than Sally. Then Phil and Tony quarrelled about a sugar doll, and when Pomuchelskopp decided the dispute in favour of his pet son Phil, Tony lost his temper and struck at Phil's head with his toy whip, but instead of striking his brother, he hit the large mirror so hard that it was broken in pieces; so Henny called order, and taking the tawse out of the cupboard, punished Tony first, because of his naughtiness, and then Phil, and lastly the other boys to keep them company. She did not call her husband, Pöking, once during the whole evening, no, not even when he gave her a new winter-bonnet trimmed with ostrich feathers, she only said, as she took it: "Do you want to make a guy of me, Kopp?"
When Frank went to bed that night he confessed to himself that he had never spent such a pleasant Christmas in his life before, and when he asked himself the reason, the sweet face of Louisa Hawermann appeared before his mind's eye, and he said to himself: "An innocent happy child like that makes a merry Christmas."
Something very unusual happened between Christmas and New-year's-day. Joseph Nüssler drove up to the farm at Pümpelhagen in the phaëton and wearing an enormous blue cloak with seven capes.--He could not get out of the carriage, he said, for he had been away from home for a good hour and a half, and had only called to say that the clergyman, and his family and Bräsig were coming to a party at his house on Sylvester's day, and that he wanted his brother-in-law to join them with his two young people, and he, for his part, would as host provide a good bowl of punch for the evening's entertainment. As soon as he had finished this long speech, he shut up completely, and when Hawermann had accepted his invitation, and Christian had begun to turn the carriage, he merely muttered something like: "Good-bye then, brother-in-law," from beneath the seven capes, so Christian turned his head round and called out: "The mistress told me to say that she expected you to come to coffee."
Frank wrote and told Fred, who was still in Rahnstädt with his mother, of the invitation, at the same time telling him that as his holiday was over he had better go straight to Rexow on the last day of the year, and then he could return to Pümpelhagen with Hawermann and him in the evening.
A regular thaw had set in before Sylvester's day, and when Hawermann and Frank arrived at the muddy farm-yard at Rexow, they saw Joseph Nüssler standing in the doorway with bent knees. He was dressed in the black coat and trousers that his wife had given him at Christmas, and as he had put on the red cap which Mina had crocheted for his Christmas present, he looked in the distance exactly like a stuffed dignitary of the church. Bräsig, however, pushed him out into the yard, saying: "Show yourself, Joseph. Do les honours properly, so that Charles' young nobleman may see that you know something of life."
As soon as Joseph had got over his labours of receiving the company, and Mr. and Mrs. Behrens had arrived and had spoken to the twins, Mrs. Nüssler took her brother aside and told him how the farm had been paying that year; Mr. Behrens entered into conversation with Mr. von Rambow; his wife talked to the little girl about their Christmas presents; Joseph seated himself in his old corner by the stove and said nothing, and Bräsig went about from one group to another, his feet and legs incased in seal-skin boots that came up as high as his waist, as though Christmas were come again and he were going to act Ruklas[[10]] to frighten the children.--The sun shone in at the window and gilded the steam that curled from the coffee-pot, and the thin cloud of smoke from the clergyman's pipe, reminding one of the light fleecy clouds which float upon the summer sky, but a black wintry storm-cloud rose from behind the stove, for Joseph was sitting there smoking as though for a wager.--Fortunately for those present, his wife had taken the precaution of emptying his tobacco-pouch of the twist he kept there, and of putting a very mild kind of tobacco in its place, but he had been so long accustomed to the hard work of smoking the coarse native tobacco he was in the habit of using, that he thought the same exertion was necessary with the mild foreign tobacco he had now in his pipe. Outside the house black clouds were gathering on the horizon, but no one in the cosy parlour was troubled by thoughts of a coming storm.
Mrs. Nüssler's parlour-maid now came in, and telling her mistress that a carter had just brought a box from the apothecary in Rahnstädt, asked where it was to be put.--"Good heavens!" cried Mrs. Behrens, "it will be Fred's clothes. My dear pastor, you will see that my brother-in-law has been so foolish as to let the boy ride again, and on that wild sorrel horse too that no one else has ever ridden!"--"You needn't be anxious, Mrs. Behrens," said Hawermann with a half laugh he could not suppress, "the sorrel isn't so bad as you think."--"Oh, but Hawermann, when he was riding to Pümpelhagen before, I saw how the horse stood still and refused to move."--"Ah," said Bräsig "the mere obstinacy shown by the beast is nothing, the danger is, that when the young rascal conquers, the horse generally starts forward suddenly, and then the rider is apt to lose his balance and tumble off."--But little Mrs. Behrens was not to be comforted by what Bräsig told her, she opened the window and asked the carter whether Fred was riding, and whether the horse was wild.--"As quiet as a lamb," was the answer, "and if he lets the horse alone, it'll let him alone. He isn't far off now."--That was a pleasant piece of news, and Mrs. Behrens seated herself on the sofa again with a sigh of relief, saying: "Ah me, I always tremble for my sister's sake when I see that boy. He's continually getting into some stupid scrape or other."--"You may depend upon that," said Bräsig.
They were both right. In the short time, between Christmas and New-year's-day, he had got into no end of scrapes, and all of them in his grand new clothes too, for in spite of the bad weather he wore his green hunting-coat, white leather breeches, and top-boots regularly every day, and sometimes even during the night; that is to say, that on one occasion when he had remained till a late hour at a supper-party composed of merry young farming apprentices as great dandies as himself, he was found lying on the top of his bed with his boots and spurs on by the servant when she took him his hot water in the morning.--Some people might be inclined to laugh and shrug their shoulders, but the fact of the matter is, that at this party, Fred had happened to meet his old friend Augustus Prebberow, who had been going about in top-boots for a year and a half longer than himself, and that the joy of seeing his old friend again, and the highly intellectual conversation in which he had taken part, had rather overcome him. Augustus Prebberow had taken the opportunity of giving him a great deal of good advice as to how he ought to behave to his "governor"--that was what he called Hawermann, and what was the best way of managing his governor, and then he had gone on to give him examples from his own experience, of the proper way to treat the bondager-lads, how to make them go head over heels, climb a greased pole, &c. &c. As soon as they had exhausted that branch of farming they had turned the conversation to horses. Fred had then told the whole of his experience with the sorrel. He had taken care to explain that the sorrel was a good horse, but that as his father, the apothecary, who had had him since he was a foal, loved him as the apple of his eye, he had never cared to cure him of his tricks, and now the horse had grown obstinate in his own opinion, and thought he knew better than anyone else; but that he, Fred, was determined to teach him better manners. His chief fault was that he absolutely refused to go a step further when he had taken it into his stupid old head that he had done enough, and that then neither working the bit, nor tche-tcheing, neither whip nor spur made the slightest impression on him.--"And you really allow that?" Augustus had asked. "Well, then I'll tell you what to do next time. Take a large jug of water with you, and ride on quietly till he comes to a stand-still and refuses to move--listen--pull at the bit, give him the spur, and fling the jug of water between his ears--all at the same time you understand--so that the crockery should break on his head and the water run into his eyes."