Seed-time and Harvest: A Novel

by Fritz Reuter

"Good, Habermann, good! He is a good man. Though he has had some experience of the hard times, he is yet a good man; he does no business with me, but he is a good man, for all that. Blümchen!" he cried at the door, "Herr Habermann is here. Bring in two cups of coffee!" and as Habermann would have declined the coffee, he added, "Allow me, Herr Habermann, allow me! When I was young, and went about the country with my pack, and it was cold weather, your mother has often given me a hot cup of coffee; when you were inspector you have given me many a ride for nothing. No, we are all human beings. Drink! Herr Habermann, drink!"

So this business also came out right, and as Habermann went back to Bräsig that evening his heart was lighter, much lighter; and, as he that evening in bed thought over the events of the day, the thought came to him whether a beloved voice had not prayed for him, up above, and whether a beloved hand had not smoothed out the tangled skein of his future, that it might run henceforth with a clear thread.

The next morning he reported himself at Pumpelhagen; and when the Kammerrath and his little son rode away, two days after, he found himself already acquainted with his new duties, and in full activity. And so he remained in quiet content for many years. Grief had withdrawn, and the joy he had was of the kind that a man does not enjoy alone, which he must share with his fellow-men.

CHAPTER IV.

In the field by the mill there was wheat again this year, as in the year in which Habermann took charge of the estate. The property was divided into eleven fields; and eleven years had passed since that time. The inspector came out of the church, for it was Sunday, and he had been to hear the Pastor's sermon, and to visit his little daughter. He went on foot along the path from the church, for the way was short, and the day was fine, the finest of midsummer weather; he went through his wheat-field, and one of the purest joys came over him, this, that one sees the visible blessing of God on what in human hope, but also in human uncertainty, his hands have sown. He was not enriched by the blessing,--that belonged to his master; but the joy was his, and it made his heart light and his mind clear, and in the clear mind, joyous thoughts darted, like fish in a limpid brook. He whistled a merry tune to himself, and almost laughed when he heard his own whistling, for such an outburst of mirth rarely happened to him.

"So," said he, "this is the eleventh year I have been over that field, and the worst is over; yet once more! then the overseeing shall be done by other eyes."

He took the way through the garden, which lay on high ground, and joined a little grove of oaks and beeches, where the drive and foot-path had been freshly cleared and raked out, for the Kammerrath and his family were coming to-day, and had sent word that they might be expected by the middle of the afternoon. As he came up the ascent he stood still and looked back over the wheat-field, and laughed to himself. "Yes, it doesn't look much as it did eleven years ago, when I let them mow it. This is something like! This time we have had a better year. What will the old Herr say? Between now and harvest, there is some time yet, but the rape is now as good as sure. If he only hasn't sold it all beforehand, again!" sighed he. "The cuckoo knows!" and he recalled the sums which had been borrowed during these eleven long years. "The old Herr will go no farther, and will go no farther; but, God bless him, there are his five daughters, and two sons-in-law who drain him, and then the gracious lady, who believes because money is round that it must run away, and then the son--it must be very expensive in the Prussian cuirassiers! Yes, the times are better than they were in my day; but if a man once gets into a tight place--it is hard, and he looks too old altogether."

He had time to spare. To-day they were waiting dinner for the Herr Kammerrath, although he had not given orders to that effect. "It was proper to do so," Habermann had said. "Yes," said he once more, and seated himself in the cool shade, "he will rejoice over the wheat, and it will be a help to him, for it is worth something, and times are better than they were."

Yes, the times were tight again, for what are "the times," for the North German people, and for all mankind, but long, long threads stretched far out over England and America and all the world, and knotted at the ends, and so managed that they lie sometimes quite slack, and whatever is fastened to them--and that is for our people almost the whole country--cannot move itself; and then again they are stretched tight, so that everything dances merrily back and forth, and all are shifted about, even in the remotest corners.

In this little corner of the world also, the thread was stretched tight, and young Jochen's porcelain pipe-bowl, and leaden tinder box, and his blue-painted corner-cupboard, and the waxed sofa, were all cleared out of the house, and the old crazy yellow coach out of the carriage-house; and in their place he had a meerschaum pipe adorned with silver, and a mahogany secretary, and an immense creature of a divan, in the living-room, and in the carriage-house there was a vehicle which Bräsig always called the "phantom," because in looking at the bill he had taken an "e" for an "n," and an "n" for an "m:" and he was not far wrong, for the thing was almost of the kind one sees in a dream.