“God bless you, brother,” he said and held out his hand. “The fatherland has better luck than its citizens.”
Schimmelweis, who did not like the visits of kinsmen, returned the salutation with careful coolness. His features did not brighten until he heard that his brother-in-law was stopping at the Red Cock Inn. He asked what errand had brought Gottfried to the city.
“I must have a talk with you,” Nothafft replied.
They entered a room behind the shop and sat down. Jason Philip’s eyes harboured even now a definitely negative answer to any proposal that might cost him money or trouble. But he was to be agreeably disappointed.
“I want to tell you, brother,” Gottfried Nothafft said, “that I have put by three thousand taler during the nineteen years of my married life. And since I have the feeling that I am not long for this world, I have come to ask you to take charge of the money for Marian and the boy. It has been troublesome enough not to touch it in these evil times that have come. Marian knows nothing of it, and I don’t want her to know. She is a weak woman, and women do not understand money nor the worth and dignity it has when it has been earned so bitterly hard. In some hour of difficulty she would begin to use it, and presently it would be gone. But I want to ease Daniel’s entry into life, when his years of training and apprenticeship are over. He is twelve now. In another twelve years he will be, God willing, a man. You can help Marian with the interest, and all I ask of you is to be silent and to act a father’s part toward the boy when I shall be no more.”
Jason Philip Schimmelweis arose. He was moved and wrung Gottfried Nothafft’s hand. “You may rely upon me,” he said, “as you would on the Bank of England.”
“I thought that would be your answer, brother, and that is why I came.”
He put down on the table three thousand taler in bank notes of the realm, and Jason Philip wrote out a receipt. Then he urged him to stay that night at his house. But Gottfried Nothafft said that he must return home to his wife and child, and that a single night in the noisy city had been enough for him.
When they returned to the shop, they found Theresa sitting there. In her lap she held Philippina, her first-born, who was three years old. The child had a large head and homely features. Gottfried hardly stopped to answer his sister-in-law’s questions. Later Theresa asked her husband what Gottfried’s business had been. Jason Philip answered brusquely: “Nothing a woman would understand.”
Three days later Gottfried sent back the receipt. On the back of it he had written: “The paper is of no use; it might even betray my secret. I have your word and your hand. That is enough. With thanks for your friendship and your services, I am your faithful kinsman, Gottfried Nothafft.”