"Again to meet! again to meet!
Till then I fain would sleep;
My longings and my thoughts to steep
In Lethe's waters dark and deep.
My loved one I again shall see,
There's rapture in the thought!
In the hope to-morrow of thee,
My darling, I fear nought.
("The beginning is by myself, the middle part by Schiller, and the end by a certain person called Anonymous who writes a great deal of poetry, but I have altered his lines to suit the present case.)
"In an agony of longing to see you,
Ever Thine."
"No!" cried little Mrs. Behrens when she had read the letter. "This is really too much of a good thing! Ah, my dear sister, I'm sorry for you! Well, it's high time for other people to interfere, and I think that being his aunt, I am the proper person to do so. And I will do it," she exclaimed aloud, stamping her foot emphatically, "and I should like to see who'd dare to prevent me!"
"I promise not to interfere with you, Mrs. Behrens," said Bräsig, coming from behind the bee-hives.
"Have you been listening, Bräsig?" asked Mrs. Behrens rather sharply.--"'Listening!' I never listen! I only keep my ears open, and then I hear what's going on; and I keep my eyes open, and see what passes before me. For instance, I see that you are very cross."--"Yes, but it's enough to drive an angel wild."--"Ah, Mrs. Behrens, the angels are wild enough already in all conscience, but we don't need to speak of them just now, for I believe that the devil himself is going about Pümpelhagen."--"Goodness gracious me! Has Fred ....?"--"No," answered Bräsig, "I don't know what it is, but certainly there's something up."--"How?"--"Mrs. Behrens, Hawermann is in a bad humour, and that is enough to show you that something unpleasant is going on. When I went to Pümpelhagen last week I found him busy with the hay and rape-harvest, and said: 'Good-morning,' I said.--'Good-morning,' said he.--'Charles,' I began, and was going to have said something when he interrupted me by asking: 'Have you seen Triddelfitz anywhere?'--'Yes,' I answered.--'Where?' he asked.--'Sitting in the large ditch,' I said.--'Did you see young Mr. von Rambow?' he asked.--'He's sitting in the next ditch close behind Fred,' I replied.--'What are they doing?' he asked.---'Playing,' I said.--'You don't give me much comfort,' he said, 'playing, when there's so much to be done!'--'Yes, Charles,' I said, 'and I played with them.'--'What were you playing at?' he asked.--'We had a game at "I spy," Charles. You must understand that your grey-hound was peeping over the edge of the ditch towards Gürlitz, and your young nobleman was watching the grey-hound, so I hid myself in the marl-pit, and watched them both. When ever one of them turned the others ducked, so there we sat peeping and ducking till at last I found it a very tiresome amusement, and, leaving my hiding-place, went to join Mr. von Rambow.' 'Good-day,' I said.--'Good-day,' he replied.--'Pardon me,' I said, 'but which of your farming-operations is it that is occupying your attention just now?'--'I,' he stammered, 'w--wanted to see how the peas were getting on!'--'H'm!' I said. 'Ah!' I said. 'I understand.' Then I bade him 'good-bye,' and went to have a look at the grey-hound. Don't be angry, Mrs. Behrens, but that's what I always call your nephew."--"Not at all, not at all!" cried the little lady, though her own name for him was different.--Then Bräsig continued: "'Good-day,' I said, 'may I ask what you are doing here?'--'Oh, nothing in particular,' he said, looking rather foolish, 'I'm only looking at the peas.'--'Now, Charles,' I said, 'if you can get the peas staked by setting those two lads to look at them, why all that I can say is that you're a deuced lucky fellow.'--'The devil take it!' he said, 'they're both up to some folly. Mr. von Rambow is quite changed this summer, he isn't like the same person. He goes about in a dream, forgets all that I tell him, and so I can't rely on him as I used to do. And as for that other stupid dolt, he's worse than ever.'--Now, Mrs. Behrens, pray don't be angry with Hawermann for calling your nephew a 'stupid dolt.'"--"Certainly not," replied Mrs. Behrens, "for that's just what he is."--"Well, you see that all happened a week ago, but this morning I went out early with my fishing-rod to try whether I couldn't catch a few trout, when just as I was coming in this direction I caught sight of your nephew, the greyhound. He slipped cautiously into the garden, and after remaining there for a few minutes, came out again. Meanwhile I perceived that the young nobleman was watching him from amongst the thorn-bushes by the side of the ditch; but what was my astonishment when I saw that my good old friend Charles Hawermann was following them on the hill-side. I brought up the rear, and so we all went on in single file quite round the village, and I couldn't help laughing when I thought that each of us only knew of the presence of the game he was stalking, and was totally unaware that he himself was being stalked in his turn. We're all to be at it again to-morrow I believe, for Hawermann, who has followed them twice already, is determined to get to the bottom of the mystery; so if either you or the parson has a fancy to join us in the hunt, you can follow me."--"Thanks very much," said Mrs. Behrens, "but I've got my part to play already. Bräsig, can you keep a secret?"--"Like a safe when the padlock is on," he answered.--"No, no. Do be serious. Can you be silent?"--"I beg your pardon," he said gravely, and clapped his hand on his mouth in token of shame at his ill-timed jesting, though had anyone else done it, he would have given him a black eye for his pains.--"Why well then, listen," said Mrs. Behrens, who now proceeded to relate all that she knew of the affair.--"Wheugh!" whistled Bräsig, "what a fool that nephew of yours is."--Mrs. Behrens then read him the letters she had found. "Hang it," cried Bräsig, "where did the young rascal get that grand way of expressing himself. Stupid as he is in other matters, he can write much better than one would expect."--When she came to the bit about the dragon Bräsig laughed heartily, and said: "That's you, Mrs. Behrens, that's you!"--"I know," she answered sharply, "but the ass in the third letter is intended for you, so neither of us need laugh at the other. But now, Bräsig, you see that it's quite necessary that I should get hold of the little wretch, and box his ears well for him."--"You're quite right, and it's easily managed. Listen. You and I must hide at the bottom of the garden at eight o'clock this evening; at half past eight, Louisa must take her place in the ditch, and you'll see that he'll come like a bear to wild honey; and then we'll spring out upon him, and take him prisoner before he knows where he is."--"That won't do at all, Bräsig. If I were going to act in that sort of way I shouldn't require your help. It would be a great misfortune if Louisa were ever to know anything about this, and I'd rather that neither Hawermann nor even my pastor should hear of it."--"H'm, h'm!" said Bräsig. "Then .... then .... Stop! I have it now. Mrs. Behrens, you must make yourself as thin as possible, put on Louisa's clothes, and go to the randyvoo in her stead. Then, as soon as he is seated by your side, and is on the point of kissing you, you must seize him by the scruff of the neck, and hold on till I come."--"Nay, Bräsig, that would never do!"--"Don't you think so, Mrs. Behrens? You understand that if he doesn't see his sweet-heart in the ditch, you'll never manage to inveigle him there; and if we don't nab him unexpectedly, we'll never succeed in catching him, for he's a long-legged, thin-flanked grey-hound, and if it came to a race, we'd be nowhere with our short legs and round bodies."--It was quite true; but no! she go to a rendezvous? And Bräsig was very stupid, how could she ever get into Louisa's gown?--But Bräsig would not be convinced; he maintained that it was the only way in which she could get the interview she wanted with her nephew, and assured her that all she had to do was to put on Louisa's shawl and Leghorn hat, and then go and sit on the edge of the ditch. "You must remember to sit down," he continued, "for if you remain standing he will see at once that you're a foot shorter, and at least a foot broader than Louisa."--At last--at last Mrs. Behrens allowed herself to be persuaded, and when she went out at the back-door about eight o'clock that evening, wearing Louisa's shawl and hat, the parson who was standing at his study-window thinking over his sermon, said to himself wonderingly: "What on earth is Regina doing with Louisa's hat and shawl? And there's Bräsig coming out of the arbour. He must want to speak to me about something--but it's a very odd thing altogether!"
Mrs. Behrens went down the garden path with Bräsig feeling ready for anything that might befall. She opened the garden-gate and went out alone, leaving Bräsig squatted under the hedge like a great toad, but no sooner was she by herself than her courage oozed away, and she said: "Come to the ditch with me, Bräsig, you're too far away there, and must be close at hand to help me when I've caught him."--"All right!" said Bräsig, and he accompanied her to the ditch.
Canal-like ditches such as this are no longer to be found in all the country-side, for the thorough system of drainage to which the land has been subjected has done away with their use; but every farmer will remember them in the old time. They were from fifteen to twenty feet wide at the top, but tapered away till quite narrow at the bottom, and were fringed with thorns and other bushwood. They were generally dry except in spring and autumn, when there was a foot or a foot and half of water in them, or in summer for a day or two after a thunder-storm. That was the case now.--"Bräsig hide yourself behind that thorn so that you may come to the rescue at once."--"Very well," said Bräsig.--"But, Mrs. Behrens," he continued after a pause, "you must think of a signal to call me to your help."--"Yes," she said. "Of course! But what shall it be? Wait! when I say; 'The Philistines be upon thee' spring upon him."--"I understand, Mrs. Behrens!"
"Goodness gracious me!" thought the clergyman's wife. "I feel as if I were quite a Delilah. Going to a rendezvous at half past eight in the evening! At my age too! Ah me, in my old age I'm going to do what I should have been ashamed of when I was a girl."--Then aloud. "Bräsig don't puff so loud anyone could hear you a mile off." Resuming her soliloquy: "And all for the sake of a boy, a mischievous wretch of a boy. Good gracious! If my pastor knew what I was about!"--Aloud. "What are you laughing at, Bräsig? I forbid you to laugh, it's very silly of you."--"I didn't laugh, Mrs. Behrens."--"Yes, you did, I heard you distinctly."--"I only yawned, Mrs. Behrens, it's such frightfully slow work lying here."--"You oughtn't to yawn at such a time. I'm trembling all over.--Oh, you little wretch, what misery you have caused me! I can't tell anyone what you've made me suffer, and must just bear it in silence. It was God who sent Bräsig to my help."--Suddenly Bräsig whispered in great excitement, his voice sounding like the distant cry of a corn-crake: "Mrs. Behrens, draw yourself out till you're as long as Lewerenz's child;[[15]] make yourself as thin as you possibly can, and put on a pretty air of confusion, for I see him coming over the crest of the hill. His figure stands out clearly against the sky."--Little Mrs. Behrens felt as if her heart had stopped beating, and her anger waxed hotter against the boy who had brought her into such a false position. She was so much ashamed of herself for being where she was, that she would most assuredly have run away if Bräsig had not laughed again, but as soon as she heard that laugh, she determined to stay and show him that he was engaged in a much more serious undertaking than he seemed to imagine.--