While she sat there a prey to sad thoughts, Daniel Sadenwater came in, and said that Mr. Pomuchelskopp had called. "Tell him that your master isn't at home," said Frida. Daniel replied that he had already told him so, but that Mr. Pomuchelskopp had expressly begged to see Mrs. von Rambow. "Very well, I'll go and see him in a few minutes," said Frida. She would not have said that if she had not wanted to escape for the moment from the torment her thoughts caused her, for Pomuchelskopp was hateful to her, but still he was a human being, and not a grizzly phantom.
She would never have sent that message at all if she had known what she would have to endure in that interview. Pomuchelskopp had for some time past, and on that morning also, taken council with David and Slus'uhr, and they had all three at last come to the conclusion, that his best plan would be to buy the estate from Alick as soon as possible, "for," as Pomuchelskopp himself said, "if the estate comes to the hammer I shall most likely have to pay more for it, or it may slip out of my hands altogether. These aristocrats stick to one another through thick and thin, and many of them are very rich men; they'll perhaps pay his debts beforehand, or if it comes to the hammer they'll buy it back for him."--"Catch them!" said Slus'uhr. "Ah but," cried Muchel, "the best plan would be to get hold of the place at once. He's ready for plucking, I know he is. He'll never get over this scrape, for he only thinks of tiding over the unpleasantness of the moment. If I were to offer him enough money to free himself from his most pressing liabilities and leave a small sum over, he would snatch at it eagerly although he knows that it would only increase the burden of his debts in the long run."--"You forget one thing," said the attorney, "his wife is there too."--"Ah, but she knows nothing about it," answered Muchel. "And that's just as well for you. If she had known you'd never have got him so much in your power. Once--when the mystery of the stolen money was talked about--she looked at me in such a way that I shall never forget it as long as I live."--"Well," said David, "what of that? She's a woman--not a woman like Mrs. Pomuchelskopp, who's a horribly clever woman--she's a noble lady, she knows a great many things, but she knows nothing, absolutely nothing of this. If he's ready for plucking, she must be made the same." David succeeded in convincing the others that if Mrs. von Rambow were told everything, the suddenness of the blow would paralyze her and make her consent to an immediate sale of the estate, and it was settled that Pomuchelskopp should begin the attack that very morning, and that his visit should be followed by that of the two other plotters. They all knew that Alick was away from home.
When Mrs. von Rambow joined Pomuchelskopp in the drawing room, the squire of Gürlitz looked as sad and compassionate as if he had been a parson and had come to condole with her after the death of her mother. He stretched out both hands to her as though he wanted to press her hand sympathetically between his. But as she only bowed, he contented himself with clasping his hands and gazing at her as paternally as a crocodile that is on the point of bursting into tears. He said that he had come to speak to her husband as an old friend and true-hearted neighbour. The matter was pressing, very pressing, and as the squire was not at home, he had asked to see her. It made him miserable to think that he had not been asked to help them before they determined on selling Pümpelhagen by auction. Frida started back, exclaiming: "Sell Pümpelhagen?" And now Pomuchelskopp's expression could be compared to nothing but that of a wretched mother who had accidentally overlain her child in her sleep: "God help me!" he cried. "What have I done! I thought you must have known ...."--"I know nothing," said Frida firmly, though she had turned deadly pale, and as she spoke, she gazed at the old sinner, as though she wanted to look him through and through: "I know nothing, but I wish to know all. Why is Pümpelhagen to be sold?"--"Madam," replied Muchel, speaking as though with a great effort, "the numerous debts ...."--"To whom does my husband owe money?"--"To a good many people, I believe."--"And you are one of the many, are you not?" At these words it seemed as if Pomuchelskopp raised the sluice which for years and years had dammed up all his human sympathies, that he might the more fully pour them out over Pümpelhagen. Yes, he said, he was one of the creditors; but the money he had lent, he had lent from friendly motives, and he could do without it for the present. He had only come that morning to give Mr. von Rambow the benefit of his advice as to how he could best turn and twist the matter so as to get out of his difficulties. From what he had heard, he believed it was Moses who insisted on the sale of the estate, and he thought that if the Jew's mouth could be shut for a short time, Pümpelhagen might yet be saved. When taking leave, he said with fervour, and at the same time winking hard as though to hide the tears that would come into his eyes, that if he had had any notion that Mrs. von Rambow was ignorant of what was going on, he would rather have torn out his tongue than have spoken to her about it.
If the matter had not touched her so nearly, she would have seen Pomuchelskopp's hypocrisy much more clearly, but as it was she had an instinctive distrust of the man. Her head was confused with the suddenness of the shock, and she felt as though the house which had so long sheltered her were shaking with an earthquake, and threatened to fall at any moment and bury her, her child and any happiness she had looked forward to in the future, under its ruins. She must go out, out into the fresh air. She went to the garden, and there she walked up and down in the sun, till at last she seated herself in the cool arbour and thought over what she had heard. She felt as if the trees which overshadowed her, were hers no more, and as if the very flowers which she had planted with her own hands had also passed away from her care. She was sitting on the selfsame bench on which her father-in-law had sat, when he confided his pressing difficulties to Hawermann. Hawermann had helped him then--where was Hawermann now? The same trees were now shading her, which she had first seen when Alick showed her his home so proudly. Where was that pride now? What of the home? To whom did these trees belong? She thought that she had only been sitting there for a few minutes, but she had been there for two hours. She heard footsteps on the path leading to Gürlitz Church, and was rising to go; but before she had time to move, Slus'uhr and David were standing before her.
Slus'uhr was rather taken aback when he saw himself so unexpectedly in Mrs. von Rambow's presence. He thought of how he was about to hurt and pain her. David chuckled like a monkey when an apple has suddenly fallen into its hands. Slus'uhr went up to Mrs. von Rambow respectfully, bowed low, and asked whether he could see the squire. Frida answered, that he was from home. "But we must see him," said David. Slus'uhr looked over his shoulder at David, as much as to say, how I wish you'd hold your stupid tongue; but still he repeated: "Yes, Madam, we must see him."--"Come back on Wednesday then; Mr. von Rambow returns on Tuesday," and she began to walk away. The attorney stepped forward as if to prevent her going, and said: "It isn't so much our business as Mr. von Rambow's that brings us here to-day. Perhaps a messenger might be sent after him. It's a matter of great importance. We've heard of a purchaser for Pümpelhagen. A very safe man too, but he insists on having an answer in three days, as to whether Mr. von Rambow intends to sell by private bargain, or whether he is going to wait and let it come to the hammer at the time the mortgage is due. This gentleman is the son of Moses, the Jew whose mortgage must be paid at midsummer, and who earnestly advises the sale of the estate through me, his man of business." It is needless to say that this was a lie. The beautiful young woman stood still looking the two rogues full in the face. As soon as she had conquered her first terror, her whole soul rose in arms against her unmerited misfortunes. "Madam," said David, who had felt uncomfortably awkward when he first met her eye, and who had therefore been reduced to pull his gold watch-chain for inspiration, "consider: My father has a mortgage on the estate amounting to one thousand and fifty pound sterling--or counting the interest to twelve hundred pounds--, then there's Mr. Pomuffelskopp's twelve hundred, then the bills owing to various tradesmen in Rahnstädt, which come to four hundred and fifty pounds--we have brought the accounts with us--besides these debts there are bills amounting to fifteen hundred pounds--or more, for all that I know--given to Israel in Schwerin. If you were to sell now to a safe man, to sell everything, including furniture, bedding and household linen, you might have a surplus of fifteen hundred, or sixteen hundred and fifty, or even eighteen hundred pounds after paying all the liabilities. And then, you know, you might rent a house in Rahnstädt, have nothing to do, and live like a countess."
Frida made no answer, bowed coldly to the confederates, and went into the house. Nothing makes a brave strong heart arm itself with cold dignity so much as discovering the pitiful meanness of its opponents. The foot that was at first raised to crush the adder, is then drawn back, and pride, honour, and a good conscience unite in thrusting all that had roused its indignation and misery out of the heart; when that is done there is no more inward strife; peace has come instead; but it is the peace of the grave.
"There she goes looking as haughty as a princess!" said David.--"What a fool you are!" said Slus'uhr. "I'll never do business with such an idiot again."--"What's the matter now?" asked David. "Didn't we do the same when we went to dun that yeoman at Kanin, and didn't he give in soon?"--"Yes, but he was a peasant! Are you a baby that you don't know the difference between a noble and a peasant? We wanted to tire her out and make her ready to fall into our hands at once, and instead of that, we've only made her more obstinately prejudiced against us than before. If we had treated him like that, he'd have said 'yes' to everything, but," he added more to himself than to David, "there are people--and truly--there are women even, who are only made the more firm and decided by misfortune."
When they arrived at Gürlitz and told their accomplice how Mrs. von Rambow had received them, Pomuchelskopp got into a great state of mind: "Bless me! How could you!" he said to David. "Whoever heard of anyone coming plump out with a thing like that? You ought to have told her the truth in such a round about way that she'd have been made wretched and anxious, instead of telling her everything plainly at once. Hang it! I'd got the affair into such good train, and now you'll see that she'll make him as obstinate as herself, and so the estate won't be sold till the term when Moses' money is due."--"And then of course you'll buy it," said Slus'uhr.--"No, no, it'll cost too much then, and yet it lies into my place so nicely!"--The worthy gentleman having made his moan, now proceeded to hold council with the two others, and they gave him very good advice as to how he should act so as to make sure of winning the game.
There was another meeting of council on the Gürlitz estate, and this time it was in the house of Rührdanz, the weaver. That morning a number of labourers and labourers' wives assembled in Rührdanz's kitchen where they talked neither passionately nor foolhardily, but thoughtfully and with deliberation, but at the same time with dangerous determination.--"What do you say, brother?" asked one.--"Nay, what can be said, but that he must go, he's a monster in human form. Well, Rührdanz, and you?"--"You're right, I quite agree with you. But, lads, you'll see that they'll bring him back to us. If we could only get papers from the government forbidding his return ...."--"Bother you and your stupid papers," cried a tall masculine looking woman who was sitting near the stove. "When you come home from Rahnstädt in the evening with your heads full of brandy, you think you'll get everything your own way, but very soon your courage melts away like the starch out of a bit of linen when you put it in the wash tub. What, I've got to send my little girls through the country side begging for food! I can tell you this, I've had no bread in the house for the last three days that hasn't been given the children out of charity."--"Things have grown a little better lately," remarked old father Brinkmann.--"Yes," answered Willgans, "but from fear, not from good will. Let's go up to the house each armed with a stout cudgel, and teach him the will of God in this matter, then let's lead him quietly over to the other side of the Gürlitz boundary, go a good bit along the road with him, and then tell him to be off."--"What?" cried Mrs. Kapphingst, "do you intend to let off that demon of a woman, his wife, who nearly beat my daughter to death because of the chicken that the hawk carried off?"--"And the two eldest daughters," said a young woman, "who plagued us out of our lives when we worked at the manor house; those girls looked like angels of mercy when they were in the parlour talking to their guests, but outside amongst us they were perfect devils, and yet you'd allow them to remain here?"--"The whole set must go," said Willgans.--"No, friends, no," remonstrated old father Brinkmann, "don't hurt the innocent little children."--"Yes," said Rührdanz's old wife, who was sitting apart from the rest peeling potatoes, "you're quite right, Brinkmann, and Gustavus must stay too, I saw him taking a quarter of potatoes to old Mrs. Schult. In measuring out the potato and flax land, he always gave a little extra, and then Willgans, he gave your eldest boy one of his old jackets. He can't do all that he would, his father looks after him too sharply for that. No, don't lift your hands against Gustavus or the little ones."--"That's just what I say, mother," answered Rührdanz. "And now, friends," he continued, "I've got something to say to you. Do everything decently and in order. The others ar'n't here just now, let us meet again this evening and talk it over. Mr. Pomuchelskopp won't be at home; John Joseph has had orders to get ready the glass coach to take them to a ball in the town, so we can meet quite easily and talk it over."--"Yes," cried the tall masculine looking woman who was sitting near the stove, "talk, talk! You all muddle your heads with brandy while we are starving. If you don't free us from those people, we'll take the matter into our own hands, and do as other women in the country have done already, a thorn bush and a bed of nettles ar'n't far off."--She then left the cottage, and the rest of the conspirators separated immediately afterwards. "Bernard," said Mrs. Rührdanz, "this may turn out an ugly business"--"That's just what I say, mother; but if we only do everything decently and in order the Grand Duke can't say anything against it. The only pity is that we have no papers to show for our actions, still, if he shows his papers, they'll see from them how the matter stands."
Rührdanz was right--I don't mean about the Grand Duke, for I don't understand such matters--but he was right in saying that Pomuchelskopp had ordered the glass coach to go to a ball, for towards evening the squire of Gürlitz might be seen seated in his carriage, dressed in his blue coat and brass buttons. By his side was his brave old wife in her yellow-brown silk gown, which reminded one both in colour and its pointed trimming of one of her own short-bread cakes, except that she was as dry and withered as a leather strap, and when she walked even on a level road, her joints rattled as much as if she had hidden a small bag of hazelnuts under her skirt. Exactly opposite were her two eldest daughters who were splendidly, very splendidly dressed, but who were also in a very bad humour because their father had insisted on their going to this ball, which was to be attended by tradesmen and their families; they had therefore determined to revenge themselves on their father by not amusing themselves, and by treating everyone as an inferior. Meanwhile they vented their wrath upon him by knocking the heavy hoops in their crinolines against his shins, and that was very cruel of them, for the wheelwright had made them new hoops that very morning of strong hazel wands.--Gustavus was seated on the box beside John Joseph the coachman.