Soon afterwards Hawermann put his head into the room and said: "Will you leave the house door ajar, Mrs. Behrens, I have to go out, but will soon return," and before Mrs. Behrens could answer he was half way down the street leading to Moses' house.
CHAPTER XV.
Moses was now a very old man, but he was strong and healthy though he found it difficult to walk even a short distance, and did not sleep well at night. He had grown into the habit of sitting up till long after his old wife Flora was asleep. He used at such times to sit in a large arm chair with a pillow under his head thinking over old stories. He would have nothing to do with new things. David generally stretched himself on the sofa as he used to do, and told him anything he thought would interest him, and sometimes enjoyed a little nap between whiles. I must say in David's honour that he was no exception to the rest of his people, and that he was gentle with and careful of his father in his old age, indeed he showed an example in that respect that it would be well if many Christians were to follow. On this particular evening they were chatting together. "David," said his father, "have I not often told you that you ought not to have anything to do with Pömüffelskopp?"--"But, father, have I ever been taken in by him? Hav'n't I always made money by my transactions with him?"--"You have strewed ashes on your head, you have eaten dirt."--"Are Louis d'ors dirt?"--"There's always dirt sticking to Pömüffelskopp's money."--"If you like father, we can do a good stroke of business, Pömüffelskopp wants to sell Gürlitz."--"Why?"--"Because he wants to get rid of it."--"I'll tell you why, David. It's because he doesn't feel safe amongst his labourers, and fears lest they should burn his barns, or knock him on the head. I'll tell you even more than that. I shan't do the business, nor will you do it; but still it will be done, and by attorney Slus'uhr too, whom you account your friend; but he's too clever for you, David, and you're too young."--"Father, I ..."--"Hush, David, I've got something more to say to you. You want to get rich, and to get rich all at once. Now listen to me; a jar with a narrow neck half full of gold is before you. You put in your hand and try to bring it out again full, but you can't do it, if, however, you're content to take one coin at a time, you get as many as you need in the end."--"Did I fill my hand too full?"--"Hush, David, I hav'n't done yet. You see two people, one throws a Louis d'or into a clear brook, while the other throws a handful of them into the mire. You go into the cold water, and get wet in picking up the Louis d'or, but when you've got it, you find it bright and clean; or you go into the mire and pick up the handful of gold, and all men try to get out of your way because you stink in their nostrils. The money Pömüffelskopp has thrown you in the way of business, you have been obliged to pick out of the mire."--"Nay, father, it doesn't smell a bit worse than other gold."--"If men have not yet perceived its evil odour, its stink yet rises to heaven; but it is not true that men do not smell it, all honourable men know it to be what it is, while to Pömüffelskopp and the attorney it is as the sweet savour of myrrh and frankincense." Just as David was about to answer there came a knock at the front door. "What's that?" asked David. The old man was silent, and the knocking became louder. "Go and open the door, David."--"What, at this time of night?"--"Yes, David, open the door. When I was a lad, and used to go about the country with a pack on my back, I often knocked at the door of some man's house, and he let me in, and now that I am old I shall soon stand before another door, and when I knock at it the God of Abraham will say: let him in, he is a human being. Some human being is now knocking at my door, and shall I not let him in? Open the door, David." David obeyed, and Hawermann came in.
"Bless me!" cried the old man. "It's the bailiff!"--"Yes, Moses. Don't be angry with me, I can't help it, but my business is very important, and I must speak to you alone."--"David, you had better go away."--David made a face, but went,--"That doesn't help us much," said Moses, "for he's listening at the keyhole."--"It doesn't matter, Moses, I can't tell you here what I want you to know. Can't you come home with me?"--"I'm an old man now, Hawermann."--"I know that, but the air out of doors is quite warm, and the moon has risen. You can lean on my arm, and if you can't walk so far, I will carry you if you like."--"Why, what's the matter?"--"I can't tell you now, Moses; you must hear with your own ears, and see with your own eyes. You can do a good work if you come."--"Hawermann, you are an honest man, and have always been a friend to me from your youth up, I know that you will act rightly and justly. Call David."--Hawermann opened the door, and found him standing behind it.--"Mr. Hawermann, surely you won't take my father out tonight, he is an old man."--"Bring me my fur-boots, David," said his father.--"Don't go, father, or I will call my mother."--"Call your mother if you like, I'm going all the same."--"Why are you going?"--"On business, business of importance."--"Then I'll go with you."--"No, David, you're too young. Go and get me my fur-boots."--There was no help for it, David had to go and fetch the boots and put them on his father's feet. Hawermann then supported Moses with his arm, and the latter set off with his friend for Mrs. Behrens' house walking with great difficulty and keeping his hand in his left coat pocket all the time that he might hold up his trousers on that side, for he still continued to do without braces on his left side.
Hawermann did not manage to get old Moses over Mrs. Behrens' threshold noiselessly as he had hoped, for Moses tripped and nearly fell as he was going in. Naturally Mrs. Behrens heard the noise as distinctly as the others did.--"Ah!" she exclaimed, hastening to the door, "there's Hawermann come back with poor Mina," but when she put out her head expecting to see Mina's face, a little swollen it is true, she saw Moses in a flowing dressing gown, and fur-boots, and with his wrinkled old face and large black eyes turned full on her: "Good evening, Mrs. Behrens," he said.--Little Mrs. Behrens was so startled that she drew back, exclaiming: "Preserve us all! Hawermann is trying all sorts of magic and heathen incantations to-night, and now he has brought an old Jew into the house at midnight; what can Moses do to cure Mina's toothache?"--Mrs. Nüssler felt as if she were in her own kitchen at home frying fish, and had just got a fine large pike in the frying pan, when it caught her by the thumb and pressed its teeth gradually deeper and deeper into her flesh, so that she could not move for fear of losing her whole thumb. What business had Mrs. Nüssler to tell such a fib, and a fib that might be disproved at any moment.--"Why, Mrs. Behrens," said Bräsig, "it can only have been Moses' double that you saw, it can't have been himself, for when I went to see him the day before yesterday he told me that he couldn't walk in the streets any more."--"Oh," interrupted Louisa, "my father must have something very important to say to the old man, and my aunt knows all about it, and has only been trying to put us off with a story about Mina. It would be very unlike my father to play foolish tricks at this time of night."--The pike forced its teeth deeper into Mrs. Nüssler's flesh, but she shut her mouth tight and kept her own counsel a little longer: "Ah see!" she said. "You're frightfully clever, Louie! Clever children are a blessing to their parents; but," she could bear it no more, and pulling her thumb out of the pike's mouth, she went on, "I wish with all my heart that you were stupider. I'll tell you the truth, Mina isn't here at all, it's Mrs. von Rambow of Pümpelhagen who has something to arrange with Charles and Moses."--Little Mrs. Behrens was very angry when she heard this, partly because she had been kept in ignorance of the truth although it was her own house, and so she was most assuredly the nearest, and ought to have been told; and partly because it showed her how horribly and heathenishly her good old friend and neighbour, Mrs. Nüssler, could lie: "You told us such a circumstantial lie," she said.--"Yes, Mrs. Behrens," answered Mrs. Nüssler, trying to look as if she had done nothing wrong, "I did."--"Mrs. Nüssler," remonstrated her friend, looking as if the little black cloak of the late parson Behrens had fallen on her shoulders, "lying is an abominable unchristian sin."--"I know that," answered Mrs. Nüssler, "and I never lie for myself. Whenever I tell a lie it's for the sake of other people. I was so sorry for the poor lady, and feared lest she should be troubled with questions. As everyone thought it was Mina, I just said 'yes' and then invented a little story." And now it seemed as if an invisible hand had bound the Geneva bands worn by her late husband round the little lady's neck; she said gravely: "My love, I fear that you're in a very bad way, for you're deceiving yourself at this very moment, you look upon what is evil as if it were good, you tell a lie ...."--"Begging your pardon, Mrs. Behrens," interrupted Bräsig, taking his stand by the side of his old sweetheart, "for stopping you in the middle of your sermon; allow me to say that I quite agree with Mrs. Nüssler. Look you, last week the town-clerk's wife called me, and asked me very sweetly: 'Pray tell me, Mr. Bräsig, is it true that Mrs. Behrens once gave some one a randy-voo in a ditch ....'"--"Bräsig!" cried Mrs. Behrens, resuming her natural manner.--"Don't be afraid," said uncle Bräsig glancing at Louisa, "I know the prejudice that exists against such things.--'No, Ma'am,' I said, 'it's a confounded lie.' So you see, Mrs. Behrens, that I told a lie for your sake, and if I'm condemned to roast in hell for it, I hope that you'll take compassion on me in heaven, and bring me a little water to refresh me."--Mrs. Behrens was about to answer, when Hawermann looked in to say: "Will you come and speak to me for a moment, Bräsig?"--"Hawermann ...." began Mrs. Behrens.--"I shall return very soon, Mrs. Behrens."--Bräsig went away.
The conversation in the other parlour had been as eager as the one I have described, though quite different from it in every respect. When Hawermann came in with Moses, Mrs. von Rambow rose from her seat on the sofa with a pain at her heart, and Moses started back.--"Mrs. von Rambow," said Hawermann, and then turning to the lady, he added: "This is my old friend Moses, he is very tired after his walk. You will excuse us, will you not, Madam?" and so saying he led the old man up to the sofa and making him lie down, arranged the pillows under his head. As soon as his friend had recovered a little from his fatigue, Hawermann asked: "Do you know Mrs. von Rambow, Moses?"--"I've seen her driving past my house, and I've seen her walking on the road near Pümpelhagen; I touched my hat to her then and she returned the old Jew's greeting courteously."--"Moses, you know that Mr. von Rambow is in debt, deeply in debt."--"I know."--"You have demanded your money from him, principal and interest."--"I know."--"Moses, you must withdraw your demand; your money is safe."--"What do you call safe? Didn't I tell you my opinion on that head in spring. Just now land isn't good security, it's only on the man one can rely, and Mr. von Rambow is not a man whose security is good. He's a bad farmer, he's a fool about horses, he's a spend ....."--"Hush, remember that his wife is here."--"I will remember."--Frida was in an agony of silent misery. Then was not another word spoken for a few minutes, then Hawermann began again: "Supposing things were differently managed, and the estate were let on a lease of ...."--"Whoever would think of taking a lease of it in such bad times?" interrupted Moses.--"Or supposing that Mr. von Rambow decided on engaging a good, bailiff, and on leaving him alone to do his work in his own way ...."--"Hawermann," Moses once more interrupted, "you're an old man, and you're a wise man; you know the world and you know Mr. von Rambow, now let me ask you, did you ever see a master who could say, 'I won't be master any more, but will let another man be master'?"--Hawermann did not know how to meet this question, and looked enquiringly at Mrs. von Rambow, who cast down her eyes, and said: "I am afraid that Mr. Moses is right, I am afraid that my husband wouldn't do that."--Moses looked at her with a smile of commendation, and muttered: "She's a clever woman, and an honest woman."--Hawermann was in great perplexity, he sat thinking silently for some time; at last he said: "Well, Moses, I want to know whether you will give up your intention of foreclosing the mortgage, if Mrs. von Rambow, or I, or the pressure of circumstances should induce the squire to agree to this proposal, and to sign a legal document to the effect that he will give up farming himself, and will engage a good bailiff to manage the estate for him?"--"If he does that, I'll let him have the money for another year; or even two years, if you like."--"Well, you promise to leave your money as it is; but there are other debts that must be paid. There's Pomuchelskopp's £1200."--"I know," muttered Moses.--"Then there are the shopkeepers' and artisans' bills that have been running on for the last year, and which will come to at least £900."--"I know," said Moses.--"Then there's a debt of nearly two thousand pounds that must be paid in Schwerin."--"Why!" exclaimed Moses starting, "I know nothing of that debt."--"In addition to what I have told you," continued Hawermann without allowing himself to be turned from the main point, "we must have three or four hundred pounds to cover the outlay required to begin farming properly."--"That's enough, it's a bad business, a very bad business," said Moses, making a movement as though to get up from the sofa.--"Stop, Moses, I hav'n't done yet."--"Let me be, let me be! I'm an old man, and can't undertake such an affair as this," and he sat up on the sofa and prepared to go away.--"Listen to me, Moses. You're not expected to give the money which will come to £4650, other people, safe people are going to do that, and you are only required to raise it for them by the midsummer term."--"God of Abraham! And I am to raise four thousand six hundred and fifty pounds in a fortnight! Four thousand six hundred and fifty pounds! and that for fools who choose to throw away their money on a bad bit of business like this!"--"Well, Moses, we won't speak of that if you please. Just write down the names and sums of money as I dictate. You know Mrs. Behrens? Write down Mrs. Behrens' name for £750."--"Yes, I know her, she's a good woman and helps the poor; but why am I to write down her name?"--"Do as I have asked you."--Moses took a pocket-book out of the pocket of his dressing gown, wet the end of his pencil in his mouth and wrote: "There now," he said, "I've put her down for £750."--"You know Bräsig?"--"Who doesn't know, Bräsig? He's a good man, and a reliable man. He often came to see me when I was ill. He tried to make me a democrat, and to persuade me to make speeches at the Reform-club, but still he's a good man."--"Put him down for £900. You also know my brother-in-law, farmer Nüssler?"--"Have I not always bought his wool? He's a quiet man, and a good man. He smokes a great deal; but he isn't master, his wife is master."--"Very well, put my sister down for £1950."--"No, I won't do that. She's a woman, and a prudent woman, did she not stand out for two pence a stone more than I offered for the wool."--"You can write her name; my sister will tell you this very evening that it's all right. Now, then put me down for £1050, and that brings up the sum to £4650."--"Good God!" cried Moses. "He's going to give his hard earned money, the money he had saved for his old age, and for his only child. And to whom is he going to give it? To a young man who attacked him with a gun, who stole his honest name and who treated him like a dog."--"You've got nothing to do with that, Moses; it's my affair. We ...."--Mrs. von Rambow had hitherto remained silent, feeling the full bitterness of her misery, but now she could bear it no longer; she sprang to her feet, ran up to Hawermann and laying her hands on his shoulders, said: "No, no! It cannot be! These kind good people and you shall not be drawn into our misfortunes. It is our own fault and so we must bear our fate. I will bear it, and, oh, Alick would a thousand times rather bear it with all its misery and shame than ... but--but," here she wailed out in spite of herself, "those poor sisters of his."--Hawermann put his arm gently round her, led her back to her chair, and whispered: "Try to compose yourself. You promised to leave the affair in my hands, and I will conduct it to the end, the happy end."--The tears streamed from Frida's eyes.--"Good God!" thought Moses, laying his pencil within the pocket-book, "she's beginning to be generous now. This isn't business. This isn't business. But it's honest at any rate, and it's enough to bring tears into the eyes of an old man like me," at the same time wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his dressing gown. "Now, let me see how it stands with the Jew."
Meanwhile Hawermann had left the room to fetch Bräsig, and after telling him in the passage what had happened, came back into the room with him.--When Bräsig came in he looked quite scared and Hawermann could not help feeling impatient with him. He went straight to Moses and said: "Moses, I am ready to sign anything Charles Hawermann wants me to sign, whether it is that I'm to give the money down, or only to put my name to a bill; but I can't pay up till S. Anthony's day."--"Good," answered Moses, "you're a safe man and I'll get you the money."--Bräsig then went to Mrs. von Rambow, who was leaning her elbow on the table, and covering her eyes with her hand as though to shield them from the light. He made her a low bow and asked her how she was, and when she had murmured some almost inaudible answer, he asked: "And how is young Mr. von Rambow?"--Frida shivered, and Hawermann, who had intended to call in the others one by one, saw that it was time to interrupt his friend, lest Bräsig should ignorantly make the poor lady yet more wretched than she was already. "Zachariah," he said, "will you be so kind as to ask Mrs. Behrens and my sister to come here. Louisa may come with them."--"All right, Charles," he replied. Soon afterwards he returned with the three women.--Mrs. Behrens rushed up to Mrs. von Rambow, pressed her in her arms and then burst into tears, and Louisa stood beside her full of deep but silent sympathy.--"God of Abraham!" muttered Moses, "what a night it is! They say that they want to do business, and yet there they are weeping over each other, pressing each other's hands, embracing and showing themselves generous and loving to each other, while they leave an old man like me to sit here till morning. Miss Hawermann," he said aloud, "when you're quite done showing your kind feeling over there, will you be so good as to bring me a little wine, for I am an old man."--Louisa immediately brought a bottle of wine and a glass, and Bräsig said: "Bring me another glass, Louisa." He no doubt considered that it was an excellent opportunity to get up a little clinking of glasses with Moses, for seating himself opposite the old Jew, he began: "Your good health, Moses."--But he failed in his attempt to induce Moses to join him, for the Jew did not take the hint, and when Hawermann brought up his sister to where they were sitting, Moses wetted his pencil and wrote. After Mrs. Nüssler, Mrs. Behrens came, and Moses wrote down what she told him; Louisa meanwhile was talking to Mrs. von Rambow somewhat apart from the others. When he had finished writing, Moses stood up and said: "I have something to say to you. The four thousand six hundred and fifty pounds wanted are covered by the promises given me to-night; but this isn't business, generosity has run away with you all. Now you know the truth. I am a Jew, and it has also run away with me. I will get the money for you. But I am an old man, and a prudent man. If Mr. von Rambow will not place his affairs in the hands of a good bailiff, and make a legal arrangement that they should be so managed, the contract is broken, and I refuse to provide the money, for it will mean ruin. When they bury me under the fir-trees in the cemetery where I have bought a resting place, they shall never have just cause to say of me: He had a tomb built for himself, of oak wood too. Shortly before his death he brought several honest people to misery, merely that he might not lose any business. Mrs. Nüssler, Mrs. Behrens, Hawermann and Mr. Bräsig are ruined by him. I have been a business man from my youth up; I began with a pack on my back; then I became a wool stapler, and lastly a money lender. I shall die as I have lived a business man, but a prudent one. Come and help me home, Hawermann. Good night, Mrs. Nüssler, remember me to Mr. Joseph, and ask him to come and see me sometimes. Good night, Mr. bailiff Bräsig, come and see me too, but don't preach to me about the Reform-club, for I am an old man. Good night, Miss Hawermann, I hope that when you next pass my house, you'll nod to me as kindly as you did last time. Good night, Mrs. Behrens, when you go to bed, you can say to yourself, I've had a number of honourable people under my roof to-day, and even the old Jew was an honourable man." Then going to Frida, he said: "Good night, Madam, you have shed tears to-night because your heart was sore; but never fear, all will yet be well; you have gained a new friend in an old Jew; but the old Jew has wept for your sorrow and he will never forget that, for his tears do not flow easily now." He turned away, said "Good night" once more, but without looking round, and Hawermann led him out, while Louisa lighted them to the house door. Within the best parlour silence prevailed, each was busy with his or her own thoughts. The first to recover herself was Mrs. Nüssler, who called Christian, who was sound asleep in the front hall, and desired him to get the carriage ready. Christian was much more active than usual on this occasion, so that when Hawermann returned from seeing Moses home, he found Mrs. von Rambow and his sister already seated in the carriage. He had only time to say one or two kind hopeful words to Mrs. von Rambow, before Mrs. Nüssler said: "Good night, Charles, she wants to get home to her little child. To Pümpelhagen, Christian," and then they drove away.
Hawermann remained standing out in the street, lost in thought, and following the receding carriage with his eyes. Just as he was turning to go into the house again another carriage drawn by two horses came slowly down the street, distinctly visible in the bright moonlight. The old man was now standing in the door-way, his whole figure brought out clearly by the background of light from the lamp his daughter had put in the hall to enable him to see his way upstairs. He wanted to see who was driving through their quiet street at such a late, or rather at such an early hour in the morning; the carriage came nearer, and at last stopped. "Take the reins," cried a voice which seemed strangely familiar to him, and a man who was sitting on the front seat, threw the reins to the groom behind him, and then sprang out into the street. "Hawermann, Hawermann! Don't you know me?"--"Frank! Mr. von Rambow!"--"What's the matter?" asked Frank. "Why are you up so late?" pushing him a little away from him, "nothing wrong?"--"No--thank God!--nothing; I'll tell you all about it immediately." Then the young man threw his arms round Hawermann, pressed him to his heart, and kissed him. They were not unhappy, on the contrary, their joy was great, and yet in the sitting-room near them a girl might have been seen with pale cheeks and large distended eyes staring at the door. When she got up the floor seemed to rise to meet her, and she pressed her hands upon her heart to still its wild beating when she heard the voice she loved so well. She did not know it, could not see it at that moment, the shock of surprise had come so suddenly; but the modest flowers she had planted in the garden of her soul, and the shady bower from which she had so often gazed at the evening star of memory and where she had hidden away her inmost thoughts, were now lighted up by the sun of joy, the rays of which were so brilliant that she was fain to turn away her eyes; but she could not, and she saw new and wonderful flowers appearing whose existence she had never dreamt of. She saw rising from a bed of violets the loveliest red roses such as brides wear, and the whole air was full of the songs of nightingales, showing that spring had come, the spring of love. As Frank came in, her hands sank down by her side, and when he clasped her in his arms she no longer felt the ground tremble as it had seemed to do before. The storm had passed away and she was happy. They talked a great deal to each other: "Frank!"--"Louisa!" but none could understand their speech, and stood round them comprehending nothing, for it was long since they had heard such language. At last uncle Bräsig took compassion on the young people who were soaring away over the earth and the clouds, and brought them back to every day life with a little shock: "Mrs. Behrens," he said, "when I had three sweethearts at once, I ...."--"Fie, for shame, Bräsig!" exclaimed Mrs. Behrens in the midst of her tears. "You said the same to me, Mrs. Behrens, that time that I told you I had written to young Mr. von Rambow in Paris, through Dr. Ürtling, but I wasn't ashamed of myself then, and I won't be ashamed of myself now, indeed I have never been ashamed of myself all my life. You see, Mrs. Behrens," and he placed himself in front of the old lady with his feet even more in the first position than usual, and blew his nose to hide that he at the same time wiped his eyes. "You see, Mrs. Behrens, that in the last few years I have had many a randyvoo. The first of them was held in a meadow ditch ...."--"Bräsig!" cried Mrs. Behrens. "Never fear, Mrs. Behrens, I won't tell, and I'll even go so far as to tell a lie for your sake if I find it necessary. The second time was in a cherry tree with Godfrey and Lina; the third, Rudolph and Mina, again in a cherry tree; but you mustn't take it ill of me if I am perhaps a little too proud of having brought about a randyvoo between Paris and Rahnstädt, for in that also I have succeeded."--"Yes," said Frank, suddenly falling to the earth from the clouds at that precise moment, "you have, and I thank you for it with all my heart. Your letter was most delightful to me, and I have it here, I always carry it about with me."--"Hm!" said uncle Bräsig, "he carries it about with him, does he! I'm very much obliged! But now tell me frankly, and honestly: did you admire the letter so much that you keep it by you, because of the style in which it is written--for you know Charles, you can't deny that my style was thought better than yours, when parson Behrens used to teach us long ago--or did you keep it because the paper had belonged to Louisa?"--"For both reasons," answered Frank, with a merry laugh, "and also because of the good news contained in your letter.--Yes," he continued, going to Hawermann and throwing his arm round him, "now that all your troubles, your self-made troubles are over, there's no reason why this separation shouldn't end." Then going to Louisa he gave her a kiss, and this kiss was a very peculiar one, for it might have been divided by twelve and yet it was only one kiss in reality. "Bless me!" cried Mrs. Behrens, "Look, it's actually beginning to get light."--"Yes," answered Bräsig, "and here you are going about still. Remember that you're an old woman now, and go to bed."--"Bräsig is right," said Hawermann, "and you should go too, Louie."--"Come away, dear child," said Mrs. Behrens, putting her arm round Louisa's waist, "tomorrow will be another day, and a happy day too," and so saying she kissed the girl fondly. "Yes," she continued, "a happy life is beginning for you, and for me through you." They went away. "And now Mr. von Rambow," said Hawermann. "Why not Frank?" interrupted the young man. "Well then, Frank, my dear son, you may sleep in my bed in the same room as Bräsig, I ...."--"I can't sleep," interrupted Frank.--"Charles," said Bräsig, "I...."--"I can't sleep," interrupted Frank.--"Charles," said Bräsig, "I don't feel at all sleepy; my usual bed time, and power of lying still are both gone." He opened the window and looked out,--"Charles," he said, "it seems to me as if this was just the right sort of weather for the fish to bite. I must go out, for I don't feel comfortable in the house, so I'll take my rod, and see what I can get. I know a capital place to go to, I mean lake Lauban in the pine wood at Rexow, where I'm sure to catch a good dish of tench. Good morning, young Mr. von Rambow, good morning, Charles, have a good talk about everything with your future son-in-law." He then went away.
"Pray tell me, dear father," asked Frank, "why you're up and stirring at such an unusual hour? I left Paris as soon as I got Bräsig's letter, and have travelled night and day as far as my own home, where I arrived the day before yesterday. I found a good deal to attend to there, for my bailiff is going away to be married, and I couldn't get away again to come on here till yesterday morning. I had ordered horses to be in readiness for me at the various posting houses, and when I got to Rahnstädt--I may as well confess"--and he laughed rather consciously. "I couldn't help wishing to see the house where Louisa lived, and I found you all up."--"Ah," sighed Hawermann, "the cause of our being up was a sad one. It was about the affairs of Mr. von Rambow of Pümpelhagen, and his wife came herself to see me and tell me what was going on. She has had a terrible time of anxiety and sorrow; but no one could have saved her from that, and now everything is in process of being arranged. I wish to God that you--had arrived a little earlier, and then the business would have been done at once." Hawermann then proceeded to relate all that had happened with such feeling and sympathy, and such a visible desire that all should be put right, that Frank also began to wish to help, and the best of it was that he could do it. He had had the good fortune to have had wise guardians and honest bailiffs who understood their work, so that his wealth had increased in their hands, and afterwards in his own, for he had not made a ladder of his inheritance by means of which to descend into the abyss of dissipation and foolish extravagance; and on the other hand his good sense and warm heart had saved him from growing into a hard man. He could therefore act as generously as he wished.
Frank and Hawermann talked long and earnestly together, for both desired to help Alick, and after careful consideration they agreed that Frank should go and see Moses that very day. In spite of their frank open dealing with each other, each of them had a secret from the other. Hawermann did not say a word to the young man of Alick's debt to his sisters, for that was a secret Mrs. von Rambow had confided to him with a breaking heart; he felt that he had no right to tell such a thing as that, it was the property of another and did not belong to him. Frank had his secret also, but it must have been a pleasant one, his face looked so happy, and there was such thorough enjoyment in the way in which he first stretched out one leg on the sofa, and then drew the other after it. When Hawermann went on to tell him other things, he nodded smilingly, and went on nodding until he at last nodded himself to sleep. Youth and nature were no longer to be debarred from their rights. When he was asleep old Hawermann rose softly and gazed into his face on which a smile still lingered, reminding one of the way in which the last rays of the setting sun are sometimes to be seen flickering on the clear, calm, transparent waters of some inland lake. He spread a warm rug over the sleeper and then went out to the arbour in Mrs. Behrens back garden, the arbour he himself had made in the days of his sorrow, and seating himself looked up at the window of the room in which his daughter slept. But was she asleep? Who can sleep when the sun of joy is shining in his heart; who can sleep when every sound has become a song of love and happiness. The garden gate clicked softly, and a lovely girl came in dressed in a white morning gown. She raised her face to the sky and watched the rising sun, with her hands clasped, as though she did not fear to blind herself with its dazzling rays, and as she gazed tears ran down her rosy cheeks. Right, Louisa! The sun is God's sun, and happiness is also God's; when they shine in our eyes and threaten to blind us with their beauty tears are good, for they enable us to bear their brightness. She stooped down over a rose, and drank in its fragrance, but without plucking it. Right Louisa! Roses are earthly flowers, and joys are also earthly; they alike bloom for a time, so leave them to live out their life in peace. If you wish to enjoy them before their time, you will find a withered flower in your bosom, and a withered joy in your heart. She walked on slowly, and when she came to the arbour, she saw her father sitting there, and throwing herself on his breast, she cried: "Father, father!" Right Louisa! You are in your proper place, for God's sun is shining in your father's heart, and the roses of earth are blooming there.