Seldwyla Folks: Three Singular Tales

by Gottfried Keller

For several years past he had not seen this spot so closely. For even while he still dwelt in the village itself he had been forbidden to approach the Marti farm, avoiding meeting the family with whom his father lived on terms of enmity. Therefore he was now full of wonder at what, just the same, he had had ample opportunity to observe in the case of his own father's property. Amazedly he stared at this once prosperous and well-cultivated farm now turned into a waste. For Marti had had one section after another of his property sequestrated by orders of the court, and now all that was left was the dwelling house itself and the space around it, with a bit of vegetable garden and a small field up above the river, which latter Marti had for some time been defending in a last desperate struggle with the judicial power.

There was, it is true, no longer any question of a rational cultivation of the soil which once had borne so plentifully and where the wheat had waved like a golden sea toward harvest time. Instead of that now there was a mixed crop sprouting: rye, turnips, wheat and potatoes, with some other "garden truck" intermingling, all from seed that had come from paper packages left over or purchased in small quantities at random, so that the whole cultivated space looked like a negligently tended vegetable bed, in which cabbage, parsley and turnips predominated. It was plainly to be seen that the owner of it, too lazy or indifferent to do his farmer's work properly, had mainly had in mind to raise such things as would enable him to live from day to day. Here a handful of carrots had been torn out, there a mess of cabbage or potatoes, and the rest had fared on for good or ill, and much of it lay rotting on the ground. Everybody, too, had been in the habit of treading around and in it all, just as he listed, and the one broad field now presented nearly the desolate appearance of the once ownerless field whence had grown all the mischief that had wrought havoc and brought the two neighbors of old down so low. About the house itself there was no visible sign at all of farm work. The stable stood vacant, its door hung loosely from the broken staples, and innumerable spider's webs, grown thick and large during the summer, were shimmering in the sunshine. Against the broad door of a barn, where once were housed the fruits of the field, hung untidy fishermen's nets and other sporting apparatus, in grim token of abandoned farming. In the farmyard was to be seen not a single chicken, pigeon or turkey, no dog or cat. The well only was the sole live thing. But even its clear water no longer flowed in a regular gush through the spout, but trickled through the broken tube, wasting itself on the ground and forming dark pools on the soggy earth, a perfect symbol of neglect. For while it would not have taken much time or trouble to mend the broken tube, now Vreni was forced to use the water she needed for her domestic tasks, for cooking and laundry work, from the tricklings that escaped. The house itself, too, was a sad thing to see. The window panes were all broken and pasted over with paper. Yet the windows, after all, were the most cheerful-looking objects, for Vreni kept them clean and shiny with soap and water, as shiny, in fact, as her own eyes, and the latter, too, had to make up for all lack of finery. And as the curly hair and the bright kerchiefs made amends for much in her, so the wild growths stretching up toward windows and along the jamb of the doorsills, and almost covering the very broken panes on the windows, gave a charm to this tumbledown homestead. A wilderness of scarlet bean blossoms, of portulac and sweet-scented flowers ran riot along the house front, and these in their vivid colors clambered along anything that would give them a hold, such as the handle of a rake, a stake or broken rod. Vreni's grandfather had left behind a rusty halberd or spontoon, such as were weapons much in vogue in his days, for he had fought as a mercenary abroad. Now this rusty implement had been stuck into the ground, and the willowy tendrils of the beanstalk embraced it tightly. More bean plants groped their way up a shattered ladder which had leaned against the house for ages, and thence their blossoms hung into the windows as Vreni's curls hung into her pretty face.

This farmyard, so much more picturesque than prosperous, lay somewhat apart from its neighbors, and therefore was not exposed so much to their inspection. But for the moment as Sali stared and watched nothing human at all was visible. Sali thus was undisturbed in his reflections as he leaned with his back against the barndoor, about thirty paces away, and studied with attentive mien the deserted yard. He had been doing this for some time when Vreni at last appeared under the housedoor and gazed calmly and thoughtfully before her as if thinking deeply of only one matter. Sali himself did not stir but contemplated her as he would have done a fine painting. But after a brief while her eyes traveled towards him, and she perceived him. Then she and he stood without motion and looked, looked just as if they did not see living beings but aerial phenomena. But at last Sali slowly stood upright, and just as slowly went across the farmyard and towards Vreni. When he was but a step or so from her, she stretched out her hands toward him and pronounced only the one word: "Sali!"

He seized her hands speechlessly, and then continued gazing into her face which had suddenly grown pale. Tears filled her eyes, and gradually under his gaze she flushed painfully, and at last she said in a very low voice: "What do you want here, Sali?"

"Only to see you," he replied. "Will we not become good friends again?"

"And our fathers, Sali?" asked Vreni, turning her weeping face aside, since her hands had been imprisoned by him.

"Must we bear the burden of what they have done and have become?" answered Sali. "It may be that we ourselves can redeem the evil they have wrought, if we only love each other well enough and stand together against the future."

"No, Sali, no good will ever come of it all," replied Vreni sobbingly; "therefore better go your ways, Sali, in God's name."

"Are you alone, Vreni?" he asked. "May I come in a minute?"

"Father has gone to town for a spell, as he told me before leaving," remarked Vreni, "to do your father a bad turn. But I cannot let you in here, because it may be that later on you would not be able to leave again without attracting notice. As yet everything around here is still and nobody about. Therefore, I beg of you, go before it is too late."