When Hawermann reached his sister's house, Mrs. Nüssler hastened to meet him as fast as her stoutness would allow: "Charles," she exclaimed. "Bless me, Charles! Here you are at last! How much more cheerful you look, and so well too! What has happened, brother Charles? Anything good?"--"Yes, dear, yes, but I'll tell you afterwards. Where's Joseph?"--"Joseph? Good gracious, that's a difficult question to answer. No one knows where he is. Now-a-days he comes and goes like a bird upon a branch. Ever since it was settled that Rudolph and Mina are to be married next week, on Friday--of course you'll come to the wedding?--he has had no rest either day or night. He sometimes goes out to see how the farm's getting on, sometimes he goes to find out that the spring sowing's all right, or perhaps he walks about the fields and comes in late in the evening quite worn out. It really seems as if he were trying to get through all the work in the last eight days before the marriage, that he had neglected to do during the whole five and twenty years in which he has idled away his time."--"Ah, well, leave him alone, there's no harm in that."--"That's just what I say, but Rudolph is angry with him for poking his nose into everything."--"Things will soon right themselves, never fear. Are all your people quiet?"--"Oh yes, and if Joseph hadn't wanted to make a speech about the geese, we should hardly have known that there was such a thing as disaffection in the neighbourhood, but from what I hear matters look badly at Gürlitz and Pümpelhagen."--"At Pümpelhagen too?"--"Yes, indeed. Neither of them confesses it; he doesn't say so, nor does she; but everyone knows that there may be an explosion there any day. He is terribly in debt, and the labourers want their wages, which he has allowed to mount up I suppose. The wisest thing he could do would be to get you to go back to him as bailiff."--"Pshaw! That last is nonsense."--"I said so too. I told Mrs. von Rambow that you could never go back there."--"What?" asked Hawermann quickly, "have you been to see her lately?"--"Yes, didn't Bräsig tell you that we intended to go?"--"He said that you spoke of going, but I didn't know that you had really gone."--"You see, Charles, this was the way of it. Triddelfitz brought all kinds of firearms here, which he told us he was going to use against the people, so I said to Joseph that we ought to go and see Mr. and Mrs. von Rambow. They had rather held aloof from us before, and so we needn't have gone; but, Charles, these are hard times. I wouldn't give much for neighbours who won't do each other a kindness in such times as these. Well we drove over to Pümpelhagen. Joseph saw the squire, and what passed between them will of course never be known to any human being.--'Joseph,' I asked, 'what did he say to you?'--'Nothing,' he answered.--'What did you say to each other?' I asked again.--'What was the good of talking much?' he said.--'What was the last thing he said to you?' I asked.--'He said good-bye,' he answered, 'but, mother,' he added, 'I'll never go there again. One either grows mad or foolish there.'"--"And how did she receive you?" asked Hawermann.--"Ah me, Charles, I believe that if she had shown what she felt, she would have thrown her arms round my neck, and would have wept tears of blood. She made me go into her morning-room and looked so kind and friendly, that I told her, that as her neighbour I felt drawn to come and see her, and ask if I could be of any use to her in the present state of affairs. She looked up in my face quietly and trustfully, and asked: 'What is your brother doing just now?' When I told her as, thank God, I could, that you were getting on pretty well, she asked after Louisa, and as I could also give a good account of her, I did so, and she looked pleased. She then told me how she managed her household, but she didn't dwell upon it as a woman in my position would have done; still I could see that she understood how to practise economy. Poor thing, necessity may have taught that. Then, Charles, I called up all my courage, rose and taking her hand in both of mine, said: She must not repulse me; no one could tell what might happen in these days; she might be in need of help some time or other--of course she had many friends, but they might be too far away to be appealed to--and I only wanted to assure her, that if ever she wanted me, I was ready to go to her, and that as I was her neighbour, I was, as Mrs. Behrens would say, 'the nearest' to her, I would do anything I could for her. Well, Charles, her eyes filled with tears. She turned her face from me to wipe them away, and when she looked at me again it was with an affectionate smile, and taking my hand she said she would thank me in the best way she knew. She then took me into another room, and lifting her little child in her arms, she held it towards me, telling it to give me a kiss. What a little darling it is, to be sure!"--"Yes," said Hawermann, "I saw the child this morning. But didn't she complain to you of anything?"--"No, Charles, not a word. She said nothing about him, or her position, and when we came home we were no wiser than when we set out; at least, I can only speak for myself, for Joseph told me nothing of what had passed between him and Mr. von Rambow, if indeed they did say anything to each other."--"Well, that doesn't matter, dear. All the world knows that Mr. von Rambow is in great want of money: Pomuchelskopp sent him notice to pay up the mortgage he holds on the estate on S. Anthony's day, and as the squire failed to do so, he has now entered into arrangements for going to law with him. Moses wants his money at midsummer, and he won't get it either, for it would be impossible for Mr. von Rambow to raise the money by that time, the country is in such a state. I fear the place will have to be sold to pay the creditors and that Pomuchelskopp will buy it. But if the times should change for the better, and the estate were only well managed, it might be made to weather the storm in spite of all that's come and gone. You will do what you can to help Mrs. von Rambow, and so will I. If the squire will only consent to have the farming matters put into good hands, I'll give him all my savings willingly. Still that's not enough. You might do something too, and I would speak seriously to Moses. Matters will indeed have come to a pretty pass if honest men can't beat a rogue in the long run. Pomuchelskopp thinks he has muddied the water sufficiently to enable him to land his fish."--"Ah, Charles, if he'd only take to farming properly and get you to go back there as bailiff, then ....."--"No, dear," said Hawermann decidedly, "I'll never go back there. But that doesn't matter. Thank God there's no lack of good farmers in the country, and he can easily get another bailiff. It's only possible to help him on the express condition that he puts the entire management of his property into the hands of a responsible person."--"That's all very well. We have now to provide Mina's outfit. Kurz might do more than he does for his only son, but he always croaks about poverty--and we want to settle matters out and out with Rudolph. Besides that we have to make arrangements for our own old age, and our money is mostly laid out in mortgages."--"Moses will help you to arrange that. Look here, Sis, you told the poor lady that you would help her, and I know that you really meant what you said--the time has come for you to keep your promise."--"Yes, Charles, but Joseph--what will Joseph say?"--"Oh, Joseph has obeyed you for five and twenty years, and he won't refuse to do your bidding now."--"You're right, Charles, he must do this.--I've always acted for the best, and now he's beginning to set himself up against me. He makes so many difficulties about everything that I can hardly manage him," and as she spoke, Mrs. Nüssler sprang from her chair, and struck the table vehemently with her clenched hand in front of her brother as if he were Joseph.--"You've succeeded in doing many a kind good action in the years that are past, Dorothea, and I'm sure that you won't fail now. God keep you, dear, and now, good-bye." He then kissed his sister and went away.
How he enjoyed that walk! The anxiety that had oppressed him the day before and early that morning had quite left him now, and his heart was full of hope. The blue sky and the green earth seemed to participate in the rest and peace that had taken up their abode in his soul, and when he reached home he smiled so cheerfully in answer to his daughter's scolding, and to Mrs. Behrens loudly expressed astonishment at his not having come in to dinner, that Zachariah Bräsig stared at him blankly, and thought: "Charles must have discovered some new piece of evidence," for he had learnt a good deal that was new to him of the nature of evidence that morning. So he began to make frightful grimaces at his friend, which Hawermann at last interpreted as signs that he should go upstairs and have a talk with him.
When they were safely in Hawermann's room, the old bailiff exclaimed excitedly: "Is there anything new Bräsig? Have they found out anything more?"--"Charles," said Bräsig, sticking a long pipe in his mouth and beginning to put on a pair of leggings, which he perhaps found rather uncomfortable, for he never wore them except on this one occasion: "do you see nothing different from usual in my appearance?"--"Yes," answered Hawermann, "these new leggings, and also that you seem to be pleased about something or other."--"Oh that's nothing. Higher up if you please!"--"Nay, then I can't tell."--"Charles," said Bräsig, standing upright before his friend, "as sure as you see me here, I've been appointed assessor in the criminal court, and shall have four pence an hour whenever I have to appear in my place there."--"Ah never mind that just now; tell me how my case is getting on." Bräsig looked his friend full in the face, winked at him solemnly and said: "I mustn't tell you, Charles, and I won't. His worship the mayor expressly forbad me to speak of what I knew to anyone in our town, or even to you, for he says it would only trouble you needlessly. We must have better evidence, he told me, before we can make out a case. The greatest secrecy is necessary the mayor says, in order to unravel this cursed mystery, and if the whole town were to know what we were about, the band of plotters would be warned to hide any remaining traces of their villainy. This much I can tell you; they've been telling no end of lies, and they're sure to go on lying, till they get themselves into such a fix, that they can't get out of it again."
There was a knock at the door. A postman came in and gave Hawermann a letter; "from Paris," he said as he went away. "Bless me, Charles, what grand acquaintances you've got," said Bräsig, "from Paris, indeed!"--"It's from Frank," answered Hawermann opening the letter hastily, and his hand trembled as he did so. He often heard from Frank, and yet a vague uneasiness always came over him when he got the letters, for he never could make up his mind whether he should tell Louisa about them. He read. The letter was full of the old friendliness and affection. Every word recalled the remembrance of earlier days, but there was not a single allusion to his love for Louisa. Frank concluded by saying that he intended to remain in Paris until midsummer, when he would go home. Hawermann told Bräsig the last bit of news, and then put the letter in his pocket. Meanwhile Bräsig had been walking up and down the room thoughtfully, and Hawermann might have heard what he was muttering to himself: "Marvellous! It's really like a sign of God's favour! The mayor can have nothing to say against this plan. Paris has nothing to do with the evidence for or against, and this is quite a private matter--Charles," he at last asked aloud, going up to Hawermann, and looking at him as he had that morning seen the mayor look at the weaver: "Tell me the truth, and the whole truth. Does your young Mr. von Rambow, I mean your old pupil, know that I know what you and Mrs. Behrens know of what passed between him and Louisa, and which no one is to know?"--"I can't tell, Bräsig ...."--"All right, Charles, I see that I hav'n't expressed myself clearly. I mean, does he think like you and Mrs. Behrens that I wish him success in his love for Louisa. That's what I wanted to say, so tell me your opinion."--"Yes, Bräsig, he knows that you know about it, and that you wish him well; but what's the good of talking of it?"--"All right, Charles, I understand. But I must go now; I have invited David Berger, his trumpetting angels and all the male members of the choir to drink punch with me at Grammelin's this evening, and so I must have everything ready. Good-bye," and then he went away, but returned immediately to say: "Charles, will you tell Mrs. Behrens that I shan't come home to supper this evening. If I were to tell her about the punch she would make some spiritual remarks about the wickedness of my conduct. Don't be alarmed if I am rather late, I've got a latch key." A few minutes afterwards he once more came back to say: "What can be done, Charles, shall be done."--"I believe you," said Hawermann, for he thought of the punch, "you'll do your best." Bräsig nodded to him as much as to say that he might trust to him, and then went away.
Hawermann sat still, and taking his letter out of his pocket read it again. Who can blame him if he allowed all kinds of hopeful fancies to blossom in his heart? The warm affection that showed itself in every line of Frank's letter cheered him in the same way as the bright spring weather had done that morning, and sounded as pleasant to his ear as the happy songs the birds had sung to him during his walk. Was his hope to be again destroyed? Time would show! Ah Time, and Hope! They are often as much opposed to each other as light and darkness. What man, who after watching through a long night, ventures to admit a ray of hope into his trembling heart, and sees the first glimmer of light showing itself on the dark sky, does not long for time to pass quickly and let the sun shine out in all its glory.
CHAPTER X.
Next morning when Zachariah Bräsig got up, he put both hands up to his head, and said: "You may be glad, Charles, that my headache isn't worse than it is, for otherwise who could act as assessor to-day? If I had allowed Grammelin to make the punch after his confounded receipt I should have had neither more nor less than a frightful buzzing in my head. As it was, I made the punch myself."--"I suppose," said Hawermann, "that you never missed your turn."--"Well certainly the younger ones didn't. I kept rather back. I sat beside David Berger, and--oh Charles--what that fellow can get through! I suppose it's because of his business, but he drank one glass after another without a pause! It was only quite at the end that he grew what is called sentimental, and, seizing my arm, said with tears in his eyes, that his earnings were so small in these times of political agitation, that both I and Mr. Süssmann--Kurz's shopman--would be sorry for him if we knew it. Mr. Süssmann then proposed that a fraternity ball should be got up for David Berger's benefit, that's to say, a political ball at which all classes; nobles, squires, tenant-farmers, and towns-folk should meet, shake hands and dance together, indeed they might even kiss each other if they liked for all that I care. The motion was at once carried, and next Sunday week is the day chosen for the ball. Mr. Süssmann has prepared a list, and I have secured tickets for you and me, Mrs. Behrens and Louisa."--"Bräsig! What could you have been thinking of? How can Mrs. Behrens or Louisa go to a ball, or I either, for that matter."--"You must go. It's for a noble purpose."--"You won't be able to go either Bräsig, for Mina is to be married on Friday week, and on the following Sunday, she's to go to church in state. What would my sister say if you were not to be at Rexow because of a stupid ball?"--"Of course that's a good reason for changing my mind about the ball, so good-bye for the present, Charles, I must go and see Mr. Süssmann at once about this alteration, and then I have to be at the town hall--you understand? Four pence an hour."
On leaving home Bräsig went straight to Kurz's shop, but Mr. Süssmann was not there. Kurz was fussing about, opening drawers and shuting them again with a bang. "Good morning, Kurz, where's your young gentleman?"--"I have no young gentleman. I'm master here."--"Take care, Kurz, remember that we are living in a democratic age, and that ...."--"What do you mean? Take care, do you say? I think very little of democracy when it makes my shopman lie in bed till this hour of the morning and spend the night in drinking punch. Old people should be ashamed ...."--"Stop, Kurz, don't begin to make me flattering speeches again like those of last Sunday, I won't allow it because of my position in the law courts. Now good-bye, Kurz, I'm sorry for you. You've got inflorenza and ought to go to bed, you have pains in all your bones, and if you were to feel your glands you would find that you were in for a regular sore throat." He then went away, leaving Kurz in a worse humour than that in which he had found him. The latter knocked about the things in the shop, abusing everything and everybody, till at last when the shopman appeared, Mrs. Kurz came to the rescue, and carrying off her worthy husband made him go to bed, and so kept him quiet for the time being.
After this little scene Bräsig went to the town-hall, where he earned one and eight pence without any trouble to himself, for the sitting of the justices lasted five hours. When he came home dinner was over, and so he had to content himself with something that had been kept hot for him, and Mrs. Behrens grumbled about irregular hours, saying that Bräsig had not come in until two o'clock that morning, and now he wanted to have dinner at two in the afternoon. The old bailiff listened to her scolding with a broad self-satisfied grin on his face, as much as to say: if you only knew what hard work I've been doing, and how useful I've been, you would pat me and stroke me, kiss me and pet me as you've never done before. When he had finished dinner, he rose and said solemnly: "It'll all come to light, Mrs. Behrens, as his worship, the mayor, would say," and winking at Hawermann, he continued: "Bonus! as Mr. Rein says." Then going to Louisa, he took her in his arms and kissed her, saying: "Louie, dear, will you give me a sheet of your best writing paper? I want to send a small--piece of evidence let me call it--so that it may carry well, it has a long way to go." As he left the room with the sheet of paper he turned round again, and said: "As I told you before, Charles, what can be done shall be done." He came back once more to say: "I shall be at home in good time for supper, Mrs. Behrens."
He went to the post-office. The post-master was at home, but he was always at home. He had allowed himself to be confined in a regular bird-cage of a room, which he dignified by the name of an office, for the salary of twenty two pounds ten a year. When he was not occupied with any postal business, he amused himself by whistling and singing like a canary-bird. He was thus employed when Bräsig came in, and said: "Good morning, post-master. You are a man of honour, so I do not hesitate to speak to you about an affair of great delicacy. You needn't be told what it is exactly, for it is a secret, and you must promise not to breathe a word of what I am at liberty to tell you. I am going to write to Paris."--"To Paris? Confound you, what have you got to do writing to Paris?"--"To Paris," repeated Bräsig, drawing himself up.--"What the devil's the matter now! One bailiff gets a letter from Paris, and another wants to send one there. Well, I'll look and see how much the postage will cost." He looked it up in his book, and said at last: "I can't find it here. But it'll cost a pretty penny, it can't be less than sixteen pence."--"That doesn't matter. I earned one and eight pence this morning at the town-hall."--"Who are you going to write to?"--"To young Mr. Frank von Rambow."--"Do you know his address, the place where he lives?"--"Why, Paris!"--"But Paris is a large place. You must know the name of the street and the number of his house."--"God bless my soul!" cried Bräsig. "What a fuss to make about such a small matter! I don't know either."--"Can't you ask Hawermann?"--"But you see that's impossible. I don't want him to know anything about it."--"Then the only thing I can think of, is to send the letter to Dr. Ürtlingen at the Mecklenburg Embassy, perhaps he may find out where he lives."--"Of course he must," said Bräsig, "for the letter is one of great importance, and he's paid for doing such things. But I was going to ask, if I might write here in your house, as I don't want Hawermann to know anything about the letter?"--"Oh, certainly," replied the post-master, "come in here that my wife mayn't see you, for though properly speaking this is only a waiting room, she won't allow anyone under the rank of a count to enter it. I'm afraid that I must lock you in."--Bräsig consented, so there he sat from three in the afternoon till dusk of evening writing his letter. In the office in front of him was the post-master whistling merrily. The post-mistress tried to get into her best parlour, but all in vain did she rattle at the door, her husband had the key in his pocket, and went on whistling and singing as if he had nothing to do with it. Bräsig wrote and wrote. At last the letter was finished. He read it over and we may now see what he had written, it was as follows: