Seed-time and Harvest: A Novel

by Fritz Reuter

The wash-bowl full of water, which he had got over his head, and the banishment from his pantry-paradise, had exercised a damp, cold, hungry influence upon him, and as he had learned from his romances that every young man in love, when he quarrels with his loved one, has a right to hate all other women too, he made use of his right. He had not been at Gurlitz for a long time, because he wished to punish his aunt a little for the everlasting fault-finding in which she allowed herself toward him. Now, as he sat in the parsonage, feeding his hatred, and speaking to no one but the Pastor, the Frau Pastorin rejoiced over his serious behavior, and said to Louise, out in the kitchen, "Fritz is really quite sensible. Thank God! he is coming to years of discretion."

Louise said nothing, but she laughed, for though she had not much acquaintance with young people, she knew Fritz for the scapegrace that he was. In undertaking to represent a new character, he was like the donkey who attempted to play the guitar, and, however painful his efforts had been to assume a strange rôle,--as for example, to-day, that of a woman-hater,--it was not long before he stripped off the whole disguise, and appeared in his proper person, as Fritz Triddelsitz, much to the chagrin of his dear aunt. He had been but a little while in the society of Louise, before he threw overboard the whole cargo of hatred of the sex, and painful recollections of Marie Möller, the washbowl and pantry, and took in, beside the ballast of romantic ideas, "a fresh, budding love for Louise,"--as he described to himself his new lading,--and when he had stowed it away under the hatches of his heart, and taken in his cable and made everything clear, he set sail. At first he tacked and cruised about, and his aunt, standing on the shore, could not tell thither he was steering, but that did not last long, his course became more direct, and as he was now fairly out on the high sea of "his feelings," and hoisted his topsail, she saw to her dismay in what direction he was steering, and that her beloved sister's son was no better than a reckless sea-rover, pirate and corsair, who was pursuing, in a scandalous manner, the pretty little brig, in which all her motherly hopes were embarked.

She spoke the strange craft, and asked "whence?" and "whither?"--but the pirate paid no attention; she hung out signals of distress to her Pastor, but the matter seemed only to amuse him, probably because he foresaw no danger for the little brig; he sat there, and laughed to himself, though he shook his head a little, now and then.

The little Frau Pastorin was disgusted beyond measure, with the behavior of her nephew; "Stupid fellow, scape-grace, rascal!" she kept saying to herself,--and when the pirate began to bombard the little craft with honey-comb speeches, and bonbon verses, she put to sea herself, and grappled the pirate, and when she had him fast, she sailed away with him, out of the room. "Come with me, my son, come! I have something to tell you, Fritz! And take your hat, too!" And when she had got him into the pantry, she manœuvred him into a corner, from which, on account of the pots and pans, egress was difficult, and she seized a loaf of bread and cut off a thick slice, with the words, "You are hungry, Fritz, you have an empty stomach, my little son, and an empty stomach leads to all sorts of mischief, see I have spread butter on it, and here is cheese for you too, now eat!"

Fritz stood there, hardly knowing what had happened; he had designed to win a heart, and he had got a piece of bread and butter; he attempted to say something, but his aunt gave him no time: "I know, my boy, what you would say; never mind, my child! But here,--if you will do me the favor,--here is a bottle of beer,--Habermann is back of our garden, sowing peas in the Pastor's field, take it to him, come along! and greet him from me. I know he will be glad to get some of the Stauenhagen burgomeister's beer." And with that she had him through the kitchen, and out of the back-door, and before she shut the door, she called to him, through the crack, "You will be too busy, Fritz, to visit us much at present, for seed-time is coming,--no, never mind, my boy, it is no matter,--but when you do come again, perhaps in the autumn, Louise will be seventeen then, and you mustn't talk such nonsense to her as you did to-day, she will be too sensible for such folly. So, my son, now eat your bread and butter." And she shut the door, and Fritz stood there, in one hand a great slice of bread and butter, in the other a bottle of beer!

Fie! It was really infamous treatment on the part of his aunt! He was very angry, and at first had a great mind to throw the bread and butter through the kitchen-window, and send the beer-bottle after it, and he swore never to set foot in the parsonage again; but reflection is a man's best teacher, and he started at length, along the garden path, looking alternately at his bread and butter and his beer-bottle, and grumbling to himself: "The devil knows I am not hungry, and the old man is not on this side of the field. She only wanted to get rid of me. Just wait, though; you shall not succeed quite yet! I know when and where Louise goes out walking. She must be mine! Whatever opposes, she must be mine!"

Then he sat down on the garden fence, and planned out his new campaign; but how angry he would have been if he had known that Louise was watching him, that very minute, from her chamber window!

But he didn't know it, and as the bread and butter might have fallen into the dirt, if he had laid it down on the fence, he eat it up leisurely, and when he had finished it he said, "I laugh at my aunt, and I laugh at Marie Möller. Louise is an angel! She shall be mine! My relations do not approve of our love, it is evident. Good! Louise cannot be won without a struggle. I will--well, what shall I do?"

And before he did anything else, he preferred to drink up the beer so he did that, and when he had finished it he went on, with fresh courage, across the field, and with every step he stamped into the soft-ploughed-ground the firm resolve: "She shall be mine!" and when the seed had sprung up, the old peasants in the region often stopped on their way, to look, and to say to each other: "The devil has been sowing thorns and thistles in old Inspector Habermann's peas."

So Fritz was established in a new love, and it had one good effect; he became very dutiful toward the old inspector, since he looked upon him as his future father-in-law. He sat with the old man of evenings, and told him about his expectations from his father, and asked his advice whether he should rent or purchase a farm, or whether he would think it better for him to buy a nice little estate in Livonia or Hungary. The old man tried seriously to dissuade him from such ideas, which were a little too absurd, but he could not help wondering what had wrought such a change in his apprentice; formerly the youngster had talked of nothing but riding, dancing, and hunting, and now he talked entirely about serious matters, although in a foolish way. He wondered still more when Fritz, one evening when Franz had gone to Gurlitz, told him in confidence that if he remained in Mecklenburg, he should look out for a handsome residence to purchase or to rent, with a park attached,--"park," said he, "not garden,--for the latter he would be indebted to his future wife, and she should have a good one; her relations should be the same to him as his own," and with that he looked at the old inspector so touchingly that the latter had much ado not to laugh.