"Don't be a goose, Triddelsitz," said the old man. "Have you been filling your head with love-stories?"
Maybe, said Fritz, maybe not; at all events, his old father-in-law should live with him, and one wing of the house should be set apart entirely for him, and if he wanted out-door exercise, either riding or driving, a pair of horses should always stand ready for his use. And then he got up, and walked about the room with great strides, flourishing with his hands, and Habermann, sitting in the sofa-corner, kept turning his head back and forth like a man with the palsy, to observe the singular behaviour of his apprentice. As he took leave that evening, Fritz pressed the old gentleman's hand with the deepest emotion, and as Habermann cordially returned the pressure, he felt a warm hand on his white hair, his head was bent gently back and a hot kiss was pressed upon his forehead, and, before he recovered from his astonishment, Fritz strode out of the room.
Fritz was a good fellow, he wanted to make everybody happy; his disposition was good, but his discretion was small. Go to Gurlitz again to see his aunt, he positively would not. He raged inwardly, and the grief which he endured, in his separation from Louise, was a bitter-sweet draught in which he indulged daily. But this bitter was mingled with another, as if one should add gall to quassia--a draught for the devil! and the gall was added by whom, of all persons in the world--Franz! Franz ran over to Gurlitz that spring whenever he had time, and when the three unmarried daughters came to Pumpelhagen, in the summer, Louise often came to visit them, and Franz, naturally, was not far away; but he--our poor Fritz--stood afar off, and could look on only from a distance, which was a doubtful gratification for him.
I would not say, and nobody who has read this book so far would say, that Fritz was that sort of a suspicious rascal who ferrets out something for his purposes from any kind of tokens, but he must have been a perfect idiot if he had not noticed that something was the matter with Franz. Even if this had not been the case, a young man in love must be jealous of somebody, it belongs to the business, and a young man who is in love, and has no rival, always reminds me of my neighbor Hamann, when he sits on horseback with only one spur. But it was the case; Franz was truly his rival, and Fritz treated him as such, and so before long he was as much vexed with Franz as with Marie Möller and his aunt, he scarcely spoke to him, and had friendly intercourse only with his good, old, future father-in-law.
The human heart can hold but a limited measure of woe, what is too much is too much; there must be some relief, and the only relief, for a lover, is intercourse with the beloved object. Fritz must contrive means to this end, and he went craftily to work; he lay in wait everywhere for Louise. Every hollow tree was a sentry-box, from whence he watched for his darling, every ditch on the Pumpelhagen estate was a trench, from which he besieged her, every hill was a look-out, where he stood on picket-guard, and behind every bush he lay in concealment.
Of course this could not last long without his attaining his desired end, and frightening Louise out of her wits, for at times when she was thinking of nothing at all, or perhaps--let us confess it--thinking of Franz, his long body would shoot out from behind a bush, or he would thrust up his head, like a seal, out of the green rye, or suddenly drop down before her feet, from a tree, where he had been lying in wait, like a lynx for a deer. At first, she soon recovered from her fright, for she took those for some of his stupid jokes, such as she knew of old; she laughed, then, and talked with him about ordinary matters; but she soon became aware that the young man was in an extraordinary condition. He was so solemn in his manner, he spoke of common things in such an uncommon tone, he rubbed his head as if the deepest thoughts were struggling for birth, he laid his hand on his heart, when she spoke of the weather, as if he were taken with a stitch in his side, he shook his head sadly, when she invited him to Gurlitz, and said his honor would not allow him to accept; when she spoke of her father, a stream flowed from his lips, as when one takes the tap from a barrel: that was an angel of an inspector, never was such an old man born before; his father was good, but this father was the father of all fathers; if she asked after Fräulein Fidelia, he said he did not trouble himself about the ladies, they were nearly all alike to him, and as she once, unfortunately, inquired after Franz, lightnings shot from his eyes, he cried "Ha!" laughed in a fearful manner, grasped her hand, thrust a paper into it, and darted headlong into the rye, in which he disappeared, and when she opened the paper she found the following effusion.
"To Her.
"When with tender, silvery light,
Through the clouds fair Luna beams,
When from vanquished shades of night,
Sunlight o'er the heaven gleams,
Where the whispering waters dance,
And the ivy leaves entwine,
Ah, bestow one loving glance
On a heart that beats for thine!
"Where thou goest with joyous tread,
Only truest love can be;
Spring flowers twine about thy head,
I, unseen, still follow thee;
Love is vanished, sweetest flowers
Bloom in vain, when thou art gone;
Ah, a youth has also hours,
Thou, alas! hast never known!
"But revenge will I enjoy,
I will lay my rival low!
I, who write this poetry,
Dream of vengeance only, now.