The Children of the World

by Paul Heyse

She remembered his sturdy figure and dark, honest face, with its black, bushy beard, so distinctly, that she could not help laughing, even at the moment when she secretly acknowledged her love. But she had a great respect for him on account of his trade of printer, which she supposed to be the most learned of all. Besides she knew through her brother that he composed all sorts of essays, which were very fine and always eagerly seized by the workmen. That such a clever and remarkable man should in her presence be as confused as a boy, not even daring to tell her he loved her, flattered her innocent and very modest self-consciousness not a little; nay it really touched her when she thought how dearly he must love her, that he did not seek some more distinguished and highly educated person. In return she meant to love him truly and faithfully and to learn a great deal, and thought it her duty, above all, to at least read Schiller, though she did not exactly understand the beautiful words. If he would sit beside her and read them aloud, it would be so much easier. She liked to listen to his voice, and her brother had often boasted what an orator he was. But as he did not appear, she could do nothing but try to read to herself. She had just opened the book and read the first lines of the "Melancholie an Laura," when a black shadow suddenly appeared between her and the light, and she started up with a low cry, letting the book fall on the floor.

The subject of her secret thoughts was standing before her, or rather kneeling at her feet to pick up the book, stammering out an apology for the sudden entrance which had startled her.

Her nerves were so strong that she instantly recovered her composure, as soon as she was assured that the vision was no ghost, but her own sun-burnt lover, for whom she had so ardently longed. She laughed at her own terror, grew as red as she had before been pale, and could not understand why he was gazing so intently at the written sheet that had fallen out of the little book and which he had unfolded and read. She did not think it exactly polite for him to forget her for such a scrawl, but thought it must be on account of his learning. He also apologized as he laid the book down on the counter, and only asked timidly where she had obtained it. Herr Walter had lent it to her, and she had just commenced reading it for the first time. He had probably forgotten the written sheet. What was in it, that Herr Franzelius had studied it so eagerly?

"Fräulein Reginchen," replied the printer, wiping the perspiration from his brow, "will you allow me to put this in my pocket? I'll return it to him myself--it might fall into the wrong hands--but you've pardoned my bouncing in so abruptly, haven't you? If you knew, Fräulein Reginchen--"

So saying, he looked around in all directions with a very disturbed expression. She had never seen him so strangely excited before.

"What's the matter?" she asked. "Do you want a glass of water? If I can help you in any way--"

"You cart, Reginchen, you're the only person who can help me. But here--so close to the street, where we may be interrupted at any moment--oh! you do not know the subject of which I want to speak."

She certainly thought she knew. What could it be, if she alone was able to help him? And what could he have to confide to her, in which he did not wish to be interrupted, except the one, the one great subject on which he had never yet found courage to speak, and which she had nevertheless seen long ago in his eyes?

"You're perfectly right," she said in the most innocent tone, and yet with a shade of curiosity. "This is just like being in the street. Do you know, the work-shop is empty and there's no one in the courtyard; you can tell me everything there. But I must first lock up the shop. This is such a surprise. The very last thing to be thought of, your coming here to-day."

She hastily closed the heavy outer doors of the shop, so that both were suddenly left in total darkness. But the next instant she opened the second door leading into the entry and let him pass out. "There's nobody at home," she whispered, "my parents won't return from the christening until seven, the Herr Doctor has gone into the country, and only Herr Walter--"