Seed-time and Harvest: A Novel

by Fritz Reuter

"That would be barbarous!" said the carpenter, "the six notched beams would last ages, and the fairies might walk in as if they were born and bred there."

And the next day came the fairies, not, indeed, exactly as Herr Schultz had represented, no, they came, at that time, all in crinoline, that is to say, the half-grown, horse-hair variety, not with bells and springs and bee-hives, and steel bird-cages, as at present; but they were beginning, even then, and Auntie Klein, from Rostock, had put a regular barrel-hoop of tough oaken wood, into her petticoat, which grazed her sister's shins so unmercifully on the way, that the poor woman had to stand on one foot through the whole wedding. But the fairies came, and they had wreaths in their hair, of natural flowers, and not artificial, which was a pity, for towards the close of the wedding, when the feet were weary, and the lovely eyes drooped, and the bright clouds of hair were tumbled about as if a storm-wind had blown through them, then the weary flowers drooped their heads and whispered to each other, "I wish it were over; nothing gives one such a longing for the quiet night, as all this gaiety." How much better we do things at present! The artificial flowers stand up brisk and lively, and say, "Always ready! Our stems and strings hold out, and when this is over, they will lay us away in a box; and we shall get rested, and when another time comes we are always ready!" Ah, how the world has improved! If they could only keep fresh and bright the youthful limbs and the fresh lungs and the innocent hearts,--well, for all me, the whole pretty fairies themselves,--with their wires and threads and steel springs!

Bräsig distributed invitations for Frau Nüssler and Jochen with a free hand, and had selected from Rahnstadt and the vicinity a fine company of neat, willing and active dancers, and although there was now and then a crooked stick among the men, it was no matter, said Uncle Bräsig, for you could see a man's legs distinctly enough, and could beware of them. Besides the Rahnstadters and a few others in the region, Jochen Nüssler had, through Rudolph, invited all his relations, a very wide-spreading race. Not that they themselves were so wide-spreading, I only mean the relationship, and they were scattered widely over all Mecklenburg and Pommerania.

There sat uncle Luting, there Uncle Krischaning, there Uncle Hanning, and there Cousin Wilhelming,--"who is my own second cousin, and a very witty fellow, when it comes to eating and drinking," said Jochen,--and there sat Aunt Dining, and Aunt Stining, and Aunt Mining, and Aunt Lining, and Aunt Rining,--"and Aunt Zaphie is coming too," said Jochen, "who was an extremely fine woman in her day." "She has been here this great while," said Bräsig. And as one stately equipage after another drove up to the Rexow court, and the whole Nüssler family in a company stood around Jochen, welcoming each other, and inquiring how things had gone for the last sixteen or twenty years,--for it was as long as that since they had seen each other, and those who knew how to write never did,--Bräsig said to Frau Nüssler:

"A very constant race, these Nüsslers! Regular thorough-bred Nüsslers! Only Jochen is a little different from the rest, since he has grown so thin, and so talkative." And going into the "temple of art," as carpenter Schultz called his edifice, and finding the architect sitting there, absorbed in admiration of his work and a bottle of Bavarian beer, he said, "Schultz, you have done your part, and I have done mine; but, you shall see, Jochen will spoil the whole performance, with his stupid relations, so that it will turn out like a mess of sour porridge."

"I have nothing to say about it, being only a guest here," said Herr Schultz, "but if they are what you say, then, out with them!"

And Bräsig walked up and down the garden, like a tree-frog, not that he had on a green coat, for he wore his nice brown one, with the yellow vest, no, he was like a tree-frog only because he prophesied foul weather before night. All at once, he looked over the garden fence, and saw Jochen's own "phantom" approaching, not driven by Krischan, but by a day-laborer, and looking nearer he saw two women sitting in it, and when he looked nearer still, there sat his own sister the widow of the dairy-farmer Korthals, with her only daughter, who lived far away, in straitened circumstances, in a village in Pomerania.

"God preserve us!" he cried, "my own sister! And her little Lotting, too! This is her doing!" and running through the kitchen to the hall, he met Frau Nüssler, and cried, "You have done this for me! Oh, you are----"

Just then two ladies entered the hall, very simply dressed, but both of them lovely as pictures; the older, with tears of emotion and gratitude running down her friendly, true-hearted face, the younger, with her fresh, innocent soul shining out of great blue eyes, under a cloud of golden hair, and asking, "Where is my dear, good Uncle Zachary?" for it was long years since she had seen him.

"Here! here!" he cried, and pulled and pushed his dear relations through the hall, till he got them up to Frau Nüssler, and said, "There she is; now thank her!" And when the two had expressed their gratitude, and turned round again to look for him, he was gone. Like a miller, who has started his mill, and poured the corn into the hopper, he had crowded his way through the stout meal-bags of the Nüssler family, and now sat in the arbor, in the garden, blowing and trumpeting at his nose, until Schultz the carpenter decamped with his beer-bottle from the temple of art, believing that the musicians had arrived.