"One bright afternoon I stood to look
Into the depths of a silver brook,
And there I saw little fishes swim,
One of them was grey, I look'd at him.
He was swimming, swimming and swimming
And with delight seemed overbrimming;
I never saw such a thing in my life
As the little grey fish seeking a wife."

Lina struggled hard to regain her composure, and then, in spite of the Bible and the Christian requirements demanded of her, she started up and rushed out of the arbour. On her way to the house she passed Mina who was coming out to join her with her sewing. Godfrey followed Lina with long slow steps, and looked as much put out as the clergyman who was interrupted in a very long sermon by the beadle placing the church key on the reading desk and saying that he might lock up the church himself when he had done, for he, the beadle, must go home to dinner. Indeed he was in much the same position as that clergyman. Like him he had wished to preach a very fine sermon, and now he was left alone in his empty church.

Mina was an inexperienced little thing, for she was the youngest of the family, but still she was quick-witted enough to guess something of what had taken place. She asked herself whether she would cry if the same thing were to happen to her, and what it would be advisable for her to do under the circumstances. She seated herself quietly in the arbour, and began to unroll her work, sighing a little as she did so at the thought of the uncertainty of her own fate, and the impossibility of doing anything but wait patiently.--"Bless me!" said Bräsig to himself as he lay hidden in the tree. "This little round-head has come now, and I've lost all feeling in my body. It's a horribly slow affair!"--But the situation was soon to become more interesting, for shortly after Mina had taken her seat a handsome young man came round the corner of the arbour with an fishing rod over his shoulder and a fish basket on his back.--"I'm so glad to find you here, Mina," he exclaimed, "of course you've all finished dinner."--"You need hardly ask, Rudolph. It has just struck two."--"Ah well," he said, "I suppose that my aunt is very angry with me again."--"You may be certain of that, and she was displeased with you already, you know, even without your being late for dinner. I'm afraid, however, that your own stomach will punish you more severely than my mother's anger could do, you've neglected it so much to-day."--"All the better for you to-night. I really couldn't come sooner, the fish were biting so splendidly. I went to the black pool to-day, though Bräsig always advised me not to go there, and now I know why. It's his larder. When he can't catch anything elsewhere he's sure of a bite in the black pool. It's cram full of tench. Just look, did you ever see such beauties?" and he opened the lid of his basket as he spoke, and showed his spoil, adding: "I've done old Bräsig this time at any rate!"--"The young rascal!" groaned Bräsig as he poked his nose through the cherry-leaves, making it appear like a huge pickled capsicum such as Mrs. Nüssler was in the habit of preserving in cherry-leaves for winter use. "The young rascal to go and catch my tench! Bless me! what monsters the rogue has caught!"--"Give them to me, Rudolph," said Mina. "I will take them into the house, and will bring you something to eat out here."--"Oh no, never mind."--"But you mustn't starve," she said.--"Very well then--anything will do. A bit of bread and butter will be quite enough, Mina."--The girl went away, and Rudolph seated himself in the arbour.--"The devil take it!" muttered Bräsig, stretching his legs softly, and twisting and turning, in the vain endeavour to find a part of his body which was not aching from his cramped position. "The wretch is sitting there now! I never saw such goings on!"

Rudolph sat buried in thought, a very unusual circumstance with him. He was easy-going by nature, and never troubled himself beforehand about vexations that might come to him. He was not in the habit of brooding over his worries, but on the contrary always tried to forget them. He was tall and strongly made, and his mischievous brown eyes had sometimes a look of imperious audacity which was in perfect keeping with the scar on his sunburnt cheek that bore witness that he had not devoted his whole time and energy to the study of dogmatic Theology. "Yes," he said to himself as he sat there waiting for his cousin, "I must get myself out of this difficulty! I could bear it as long as it was far off, for there was always plenty of time to come to a decision, but two things must be settled to-day beyond recall. My father is coming this afternoon. I only hope that my mother won't take it into her head to come too, or I should never have courage to do it. I'm as well suited to be a clergyman as a donkey is to play the guitar, or as Godfrey is to be colonel of a cavalry-regiment. If Bräsig were only here, he'd stand by me I know--And then Mina--I wish it were all settled with her."--At this moment Mina appeared carrying a plate of bread and butter--Rudolph sprang up, exclaiming: "What a dear good little girl you are, Mina!" and he threw his arm round her waist as he spoke.--Mina freed herself from him, saying: "Don't do that. Ah, how could you have been so wicked? My mother is very angry with you."--"You mean about the sermon," he answered, "well yes, it was a stupid trick."--"No," said Mina quickly, "it was a wicked trick. You made game of holy things."--"Not a bit of it," he replied. "These trial sermons are not holy things, even when they are preached by our pious cousin Godfrey."--"But, Rudolph, it was in church!"--"Ah, Mina, I confess that it was a silly joke. I didn't think sufficiently of what I was doing. I only thought of the sheepish look of amazement Godfrey's face would wear, and that tickled me so much that I was mad enough to play the trick. Now don't let us talk any more about it, Mina," he said coaxingly, as he slipped his arm round her waist again.--"No, I won't allow that," said Mina. "And," she went on, "the parson said that if he were to make the story known, you'd never get a living all your life."--"Then I hope that he'll tell everyone what I did and it'll end all the bother."--"What do you mean?" asked Mina, pushing him from her and staring at him in perplexity. "Are you in earnest?"--"Never more so in my life. I've entered the pulpit for the first and last time."--"Rudolph!" cried Mina in astonishment.--"What's the use of trying to make me a clergyman," said Rudolph quickly. "Look at Godfrey and then look at me. Do you think I should make a good parson. And then, there's another thing, even if I were so well up in theology that I could puzzle the learned professors themselves, they would never pass me in the examination. All that they care about is having men who can adopt all their cant phrases. If I were the apostle Paul himself they'd refuse to pass me, if they caught sight of this little scar upon my cheek."--"What are you going to do then?" asked Mina anxiously, and laying her hand upon his arm, she added: "Oh, don't be a soldier!"--"I should think not! No, I want to be a farmer."--"The confounded young rascal!" muttered Bräsig.--"Yes, my own dear little Mina," continued Rudolph, drawing her to his side on the bench, "I intend to be a farmer; a real good hard-working farmer, and you, dear Mina, must help me to become one."--"What!" said Bräsig to himself, "is she to teach him to plough and harrow?"--"I, Rudolph?" asked Mina.--"Yes, my sweet child," he answered, stroking her smooth hair and soft cheeks; then taking her chin in his hand, he raised her face towards him, and looking into her blue eyes, went on: "If I could only be certain that you'd consent to be my little wife as soon as I'd a home to offer you, it would make everything easy to me, and I should be sure of learning to be a good farmer. Will you, Mina, will you?"--Mina began to cry softly, and Rudolph kissed away the tears as they rolled down her cheeks, and then she laid her little round-head on his shoulder. Rudolph gave her time to recover her composure, and after a few minutes she told him in a low whisper that she would do as he asked, so he kissed her again and again.--Bräsig seeing this exclaimed half aloud: "The devil take him! Stop that!"--Rudolph found time to tell her in the midst of his kissing that he intended to speak to his father that afternoon, and said amongst other things that it was a pity, Bräsig was not there, as he was sure he would have helped him to make his explanation to his father, who, he knew, thought a great deal of Bräsig's advice.--"The young rascal to catch my fish!" muttered Bräsig.--Then Mina said: "Bräsig was here this morning and dined with us. I daresay he is enjoying an after dinner sleep now."--"Just listen to little round-head," said Bräsig to himself. "An after dinner sleep indeed! But everything is settled now, and I needn't cramp my bones up here any longer."--And while Rudolph was saying that he would like to see the old man before he went into the house, Bräsig slipped out of his hiding-place in the cherry-tree, and clinging with both hands to the lowest branch, let his legs dangle in the air, and shouted: "Here he is!"--Bump! He came down on the ground, and stood before the lovers with an expression on his red face which seemed to say that he considered himself a competent judge on even the most delicate points of feeling.

The two young people were not a little startled. Mina hid her face in her hands as Lina had done, but she did not cry; and she would have run away like Lina if she and uncle Bräsig had not always been on the most confidential terms with each other. She threw herself into uncle Bräsig's arms, and in her desire to hide her blushing face, she tried to burrow her little round-head into his waistcoat-pocket, exclaiming: "Uncle Bräsig, uncle Bräsig, you're a very naughty old man!"--"Oh!" said Bräsig, "you think so, do you?"--"Yes," answered Rudolph, who had mounted his high horse, "you ought to be ashamed of listening to what you were not intended to hear."--"Moshoo Rudolph," said the old bailiff stiffly, "I may as well tell you once for all, that shame is a thing that must never be mentioned in connection with me, and if you think that your grand airs will have any effect upon me, you're very much mistaken."--Rudolph saw clearly that such was the case, and as he did not want to quarrel with the old man for Mina's sake, he relented a little, and said more gently that he would think nothing more of what had occurred, if Bräsig could assure him that he had got into the tree by accident, but still he considered that Bräsig ought to have coughed, or done something to make his presence known, instead of sitting still and listening to the whole story from A to Z.--"Oh," said Bräsig, "I ought to have coughed, you say, but I groaned loud enough, I can tell you, and you couldn't have helped hearing me if you hadn't been so much taken up with what you yourself were about. But you ought to be ashamed of yourself for having fallen in love with Mina without Mrs. Nüssler's leave."--Rudolph replied that that was his own affair, that no one had a right to meddle, and that Bräsig understood nothing about such things.--"What!" said Bräsig. "Have you ever been engaged to three girls at once? I have, Sir, and quite openly too, and yet you say that I know nothing about such things! But sneaks are all alike. First of all you catch my fish secretly in the black pool, and then you catch little Mina in the arbour before my very eyes. No, no, let him be, Mina. He shall not hurt you."--"Ah, uncle Bräsig!" entreated Mina, "do help us, we love each other so dearly."--"Yes, let him be, Mina, you're my little god-child; you'll soon get over it."--"No, Mr. Bräsig," cried Rudolph, laying his hand on the old man's shoulder, "no, dear good uncle Bräsig, we'll never get over it; it'll last as long as we live. I want to be a farmer, and if I have the hope before me of gaining Mina for my wife some day, and if," he added slyly, "you will help me with your advice, I can't help becoming a good one."--"What a young rascal!" said Bräsig to himself, then aloud: "Ah, yes, I know you! You'd be a latin farmer like Pistorius, and Prætorius, and Trebonius. You'd sit on the edge of a ditch and read the book written by the fellow with the long string of titles of honour, I mean the book about oxygen, nitrogen and organisms, whilst the farm-boys spread the manure over your rye-field in lumps as big as your hat. Oh, I know you! I've only known one man who took to farming after going through all the classes at the High-school, who turned out well. I mean young Mr. von Rambow, Hawermann's pupil."--"Oh, uncle Bräsig," said Mina, raising her head slowly and stroking the old man's cheek, "Rudolph can do as well as Frank."--"No, Mina, he can't. And shall I tell you why? Because he's only a grey-hound, while the other is a man"--"Uncle Bräsig," said Rudolph, "I suppose you are referring to that silly trick that I played about the sermon, but you don't know how Godfrey plagued me in his zeal for converting me. I really couldn't resist playing him a trick."--"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Bräsig. "No, I didn't mean that, I was very much amused at that. So he wanted to convert you, and perhaps induce you to give up fishing? He tried his hand at converting again this afternoon, but Lina ran away from him; however that doesn't matter, it's all right."--"With Lina and Godfrey?" asked Mina anxiously. "And did you hear all that passed on that occasion too?"--"Of course I did. It was for her sake entirely that I hid myself in that confounded cherry-tree. But now come here, Moshoo Rudolph. Do you promise never to enter a pulpit again, or to preach another sermon?"--"Never again."--"Do you promise to get up at three o'clock in the morning in summer, and give out the feeds for the horses?"--"Punctually."--"Do you promise to learn how to plough, harrow, mow and bind properly? I mean to bind with a wisp, there's no art in doing it with a rope."--"Yes," said Rudolph,--"Do you promise when coming home from market never to sit in an inn over a punch-bowl while your carts go on before, so that you are obliged to reel after them?"--"I promise never to do so," said Rudolph.--"Do you promise--Mina, do you see that pretty flower over there, the blue one I mean, will you bring it to me, I want to smell it--do you promise," he repeated as soon as Mina was out of hearing, "never to flirt with any of those confounded farm-girls?"--"Oh, Mr. Bräsig, do you take me for a scoundrel?" asked Rudolph, turning away angrily.--"No, no," answered Bräsig, "but I want you to understand clearly from the very beginning that I will strangle you if ever you cause my little god-child to shed a tear." And as he spoke he looked so determined, that one might have thought he was going to begin the operation at once. "Thank you, Mina," he said, taking the flower from her, and after smelling it putting it in his button-hole. "And now come here, Mina, and I will give you my blessing. Nay, you needn't go down on your knees, for I'm not one of your parents, I'm only your god-father. And, Moshoo Rudolph, I promise to take your part this afternoon when your father comes, and to help you to free yourself from being bound to a profession you don't like. Come away both of you, we must go in now. But, Rudolph, remember you mustn't sit on the grass and read, but must see to the proper manuring of your fields yourself. Look this is the way the farm-lads ought to hold their pitch-forks, not like that. Bang! and tumble off all that is on it; no, they must shake the fork gently three or four times, breaking and spreading the manure as they do so. When a bit of ground is properly spread it ought to look as smooth and clean as a velvet table-cover."--He then went into the house accompanied by the two young people.

CHAPTER VI.

Towards the middle of the afternoon Kurz, the general-merchant, and Baldrian, the rector of the academy, set out for Rexow. Kurz very soon repented having asked the rector to accompany him, for it is an extremely uncomfortable thing for a short man to have a long-legged friend as companion in a walk. As they went along the road, the rector said jestingly that their way of walking made a capital verse of the kind the Romans loved, and which they called a dactyle, for they went long, short short; long, short short. This witticism made Kurz angry, for he regarded it as a reflection on his legs, and on his power of walking, so he tried hard to lengthen his steps.--"Now we are making a spondee," said the rector.--"Do me the favour, brother-in-law," said Kurz angrily, and gasping for breath, "not to thrust your learning down my throat; I'm too hot to bear it"--Then he passed his handkerchief over his heated face, took off his coat and hung it over his walking-stick. Kurz's principal trade was that of druggist, but he also dealt in drapery and other goods, and as in this latter branch of trade there were always remnants left of various materials, he found his short stature very convenient in using up any odd pieces of cloth that might be left on his hands. About a year and a half before this when clearing his shop of old and useless goods, he found a remnant of stuff that had once been in fashion for ladies' cloaks, the pattern of which was a giraffe browsing on a tall palm-tree. He considered the piece of cloth too good to throw away, and as he could not induce any one to buy it, he had it made into a summer-coat for himself. And now he walked along the Rexow road carrying it like a banner, as if he were the youngest ensign in the army of a small German prince, whose coat of arms was a giraffe and a palm-tree. Rector Baldrian stalked on by his side in a yellow nankin-coat, and looked as if he were the leader of the right wing of the same prince's bodyguard, always supposing that the said prince had chosen to dress his body-guard in yellow nankin for a little change.

"Bless me!" said Mrs. Nüssler, who was in the parlour, "Kurz is bringing the rector with him."--"So he is," answered Bräsig, "but he won't be much in our way this afternoon, for I intend to interrupt him whenever I see fit."--They were both afraid, and not unreasonably so, of Baldrian's love of making long speeches.

The two visitors now came into the room, and the rector began to talk about his pleasure in seeing his old friends again, and told them how he had embraced the opportunity of Kurz's going to Rexow to accompany him as he could not have a better excuse. Bräsig answered shortly that his long legs were the best excuse he could have for the walk, and then turned away from him. As Mrs. Nüssler was busy talking to Kurz the rector had to content himself with addressing the rest of his remarks to Joseph, who listened to the stream of words with the most praiseworthy attention, and when it ceased, merely said: "How-d'ye-do, brother-in-law; won't you sit down."--Kurz was in a bad humour. Firstly, because he wanted to give his son a scolding; secondly, because Baldrian had nearly walked him off his legs; and thirdly, because he had got a slight chill from taking off his coat, and was suffering from hiccough. His bad temper, however, was nothing unusual, for he had almost always something to displease him. He was a radical, not with regard to the affairs of the state, for such people were then unknown in Mecklenburg, but as far as the municipal government of the town in which he lived was concerned. He had long made it the task of his life to get the charge of the town-jail out of the hands of the long-nosed baker who was so shamefully favoured by the mayor. He gasped and hiccoughed, and his heated face crowned with stubbly grey hair might, without too great a stretch of imagination, be likened to a freshly cut spiced ham that had been thickly strewed with pepper and salt on the top. The resemblance was incomplete in one particular, for there was no knife to be seen, but Bräsig took care to put that right. He went to the knife-basket, took a sharp dinner-knife out of it, and going up to the spiced ham, said: "Come, Kurz, sit down there for a moment."--"What do you want?" asked Kurz.--"To show my sympathy for your hiccough. Now, Keep your eyes fixed on the sharp edge of the knife. I shall bring the edge of the knife nearer and nearer to you, so; but you must be frightened or it will do no good. Nearer--and--nearer, as if I wanted to stab you on the nose. Nearer and--nearer till I almost touch your eyes."--"Hang it!" cried Kurz, springing to his feet "Do you mean to put out my eyes?"--"Capital!" said Bräsig. "Capital! I've given you a fright, and that ought to have cured you."--It really had the effect of sending away his hiccough, but did not lessen his ill-humour.--"Where's my son?" he asked. "I've got a crow to pick with him. Ah, brother-in-law," he went on, turning to Joseph, "I've had enough to anger me. There's my son here; then at the court-house about the management of the jail; at home with my wife because of that silly affair of the sermon; in the shop with a stupid apprentice, who when asked for a penny-weight of black silk-thread gave the customer half an ounce instead! And again on the road here with the rector's long legs."--"Mother," said young Joseph, pushing a coffee-cup nearer his wife, "give Kurz some coffee."--"Oh, brother-in-law," said Mrs. Nüssler, "there's plenty of time for all that. Let us talk over the matter quietly first, and don't speak to the boy about what he did until your anger has cooled a little, or you will only be pouring oil on the flames."--"I'll ...." began Kurz passionately, but he got no further, for at the same moment the door opened, and Godfrey came in.

Godfrey looked unusually solemn as he went up to his father and wished him good-day. His pompous manner, and the severe gravity of his deportment were enough to make one imagine, that his patron saint had taken care to clothe him in unapproachable dignity, that he might the more easily keep himself unspotted from the world.--"How-d'ye-do, papa. I hope you are well," he said giving his father a kiss in the hollow of his cheek, which the latter returned by making a kiss in the air thereby reminding one of a carp when he puts his head out of the water. "How is mama just now?" the son continued, for Godfrey had been taught to say "papa and mama" from his earliest years, because though the rector thought it quite right and proper for tradesmen's children to call their parents "father and mother," he did not consider it seemly that the children of well educated people should do so. Kurz was always indignant at "such affectation," for his son of course said "father and mother"--"How-d'ye-do, uncle," continued Godfrey addressing Kurz, "and how are you, Mr. bailiff Bräsig," then turning to his father he went on: "I am particularly glad that you have come to-day, for I want to speak to you about a matter of the deepest interest to myself."--"Aha!" said Bräsig to himself. "He's making a good beginning."