A single recruit attached himself to him and acted as his servant, cleaned his arms and clothes and spoke in his defence. This was the tight-fisted son of a rich peasant, who had always a frightful appetite for food and drink whenever he could satisfy it at another's expense. He thought heaven would be his reward if he could carry back home all his shining silver and still be able to say he had lived merrily during his service and caroused like a true sharpshooter; at the same time he was jolly and good-natured and entertained his patron, who had much less voice than he, with his thin falsetto in which, from behind his bottle, he sang all sorts of popular country songs very oddly indeed; for he was a merry miser. And so Ruckstuhl, the young extortioner, and Spörri, the young skinflint, lived on in glorious friendship. The former always had meat and wine before him and did as he chose, and the latter left him as little as possible, sang and cleaned his boots and did not even scorn the tips that the other gave.
Meanwhile the others made fun of them and agreed among themselves that they would not tolerate Ruckstuhl in any company. This did not apply to his factotum, however, for, strangely enough, he was a good shot, and anyone who knows his business is welcome in the army whether he be a Philistine or a scamp.
Karl was foremost in making fun of the pair; but one night he lost his desire to joke, when the wine-gladdened Ruckstuhl boasted to his follower, after the room had grown quiet, of what a fine gentleman he was and of how he soon expected to marry a rich wife, the daughter of the carpenter Frymann, whom, if he read the signs aright, he could not fail to get.
Karl's peace of mind was now gone, and the next day, as soon as he had a free hour, he went to his parents to find out, by listening, what was going on. But as he did not care to introduce the subject himself, he heard nothing of Hermine until just before he went, when his mother told him she had wanted to be remembered to him.
"Why, where did you see her?" he asked as indifferently as he could.
"Oh, she comes to the market every day now with the maid to learn how to buy supplies. She always asks me for advice when we meet and then we make the rounds of the market and find a lot to laugh at; for she's always in good spirits."
"Oh, ho!" said Hediger, "so that's why you stay out so long sometimes! And it's match-making that you are up to? Do you think it's fitting for a mother to behave like that, running around with people who are forbidden to her son, and carrying messages?"
"Forbidden people! Nonsense! Haven't I known the dear child since she was a baby and I carried her in my arms? And now I'm not to associate with her! And why shouldn't she ask to be remembered to the people in our house? And why shouldn't a mother take such a message? And may not a mother be allowed to make a match for her child? It seems to me that she's the very person to do it! But we never talk about such things, we women are not half so keen about you ill-mannered men, and if Hermine takes my advice she won't marry anyone."
Karl did not wait for the end of the conversation, but went his way; for she had sent him a message and there had been no mention of any suspicious news. Only he did tap his forehead, puzzled by Hermine's good spirits, for it was not like her to laugh so much. He finally decided it was a sign in his favor and she had been merry because she had met his mother. So he resolved to keep quiet, have faith in the girl, and let things take their course.
A few days later Hermine came to visit Mrs. Hediger, bringing her knitting with her, and there was so much cordiality, talking, and laughing that Hediger, cutting out a frock coat in his workshop, was almost disturbed and wondered what old gossip could be there. Still, he did not pay much attention to it till finally he heard his wife go to a cupboard and begin to rattle the blue coffee set. For the "Gunsmithy" was making as good a pot of coffee as she had ever brewed; she also took a good handful of sage leaves, dipped them in an egg-batter and fried them in butter, thus making so-called little mice, since the stems of the leaves looked like mouse-tails. They rose beautifully and made a heaping dish full, the fragrance of which, together with that of the fresh coffee ascended to Master Hediger above. When, finally, he heard her pounding sugar he became highly impatient to be called to the table; but he would not have gone one moment earlier, for he belonged to the Staunch and Upright. As he now entered the room he saw his wife and the graceful "forbidden person" sitting in close friendship behind the coffee-pot and, moreover, it was the blue-flowered coffee-pot; and besides the little mice there was butter on the table and the blue-flowered pot full of honey; it was not real honey, to be sure, but only cherry-jam, about the color of Herrnine's eyes; and it was Saturday too, a day on which all respectable middle-class women scrub and scour, clean and polish, and never cook a bite that's fit to eat.