"It is enough to drive one crazy!" cried Kurz, "but I will save what I can," and he ran to the boundary of the field, and began tossing the lumps of manure over into his field with his stick, and worked away, until he was out of breath with exercise and rage, and then he threw his stick across the field, and panted out the words: "I will have nothing more to do with it! Why didn't I stay in bed! When I get home, and get hold of that rascal of a boy,--children, I beg you, hold me fast, or something dreadful will happen!"
"Rely upon me," said Bräsig, "I will hold you," and he caught him by the coat-collar at once.
"But what was the stick to blame for?" said Habermann, going to pick it up. Something stuck fast to the stick, Kurz had thrust it through, with his working, and thrown it away with the stick; the old man was going to shake it off, but as he looked at it, he stood still. Bräsig had been occupied with Kurz, and had not paid attention to his old friend, and he now called.
"Come, Karl, we are going! There is nothing to be made of this business."
He got no answer, and as he looked at his friend, he saw him standing, with something black in his hand, which he regarded with fixed attention, not turning nor moving.
"Good heavens, Karl, what have you there?" cried Zachary Bräsig, going towards him. Still he got no answer, Habermann, pale as death, was looking at that which he held in his hand, and which made his features quiver with agitation.
"Karl, Karl! What have you found, what is the matter?"
And at last the words burst from Habermann's struggling breast: "That packet! This is that packet!" and he held out to Bräsig a piece of waxed cloth.
"What? What sort of a packet?"
"Oh, I have held it in my hand, I have seen it for years, waking and dreaming! See, here is the von Rambow coat of arms, here are the marks on the cloth. It was put together like that, it was of that size! It was put up so, with the two thousand thalers in gold! This is the packet, which Regel was sent to Rostock with."