So they hastened their steps, and came to where under the lindens
Hermann against the carriage was leaning. The horses were stamping
Wildly the turf; he held them in check, and, buried in musing,
Stood, into vacancy gazing before him; nor saw the two envoys,
Till, as they came, they called out and made to him signals of triumph.
E'en as far off as they then were, the doctor began to address him;
But they were presently nearer come and then the good pastor
Grasped his hand and exclaimed, interrupting the word of his comrade:
"Hail to thee, O young man! thy true eye and heart have well chosen;
Joy be to thee and the wife of thy youth; for of thee she is worthy.
Come then and turn us the wagon, and drive straightway to the village,
There the good maid to woo, and soon bring her home to thy dwelling."
Still, however, the young man stood, without sign of rejoicing,
Hearing his messenger's words, though heavenly they were and consoling.
Deeply he sighed as he said: "With hurrying wheels we came hither,
And shall be forced, perchance, to go mortified homeward and slowly.
For disquiet has fallen upon me since here I've been waiting,
Doubt and suspicion, and all that can torture the heart of a lover.
Think ye we have but to come, and that then the maiden will follow
Merely because we are rich, while she is poor and an exile?
Poverty, too, makes proud, when it comes unmerited! Active
Seems she to be, and contented, and so of the world is she mistress.
Think ye a maiden like her, with the manners and beauty that she has,
Can into woman have grown, and no worthy man's love have attracted?
Think ye that love until now can have been shut out from her bosom?
Drive not thither too rashly: we might to our mortification
Have to turn softly homewards our horses' heads. For my fear is
That to some youth already this heart has been given; already
This brave hand has been clasped, has pledged faith to some
fortunate lover.
Then with my offer, alas! I should stand in confusion before her."
Straightway the pastor had opened his lips to speak consolation,
When his companion broke in, and said in his voluble fashion:
"Years ago, forsooth, unknown had been such a dilemma.
All such affairs were then conducted in regular fashion.
Soon as a bride for their son had been by the parents selected,
First some family friend they into their councils would summon,
Whom they afterward sent as a suitor to visit the parents
Of the elected bride. Arrayed in his finest apparel,
Soon after dinner on Sunday he sought the respectable burgher,
When some friendly words were exchanged upon general subjects,
He knowing how to direct the discourse as suited his purpose.
After much circumlocution he finally mentioned the daughter,
Praising her highly, and praising the man and the house that had sent him.
Persons of tact perceived his intent, and the politic envoy
Readily saw how their minds were disposed, and explained himself further.
Then were the offer declined, e'en the 'no' brought not mortification;
But did it meet with success, the suitor was ever thereafter
Made the chief guest in the house on every festive occasion.
For, through the rest of their lives, the couple ne'er failed to remember
That 'twas by his experienced hand the first knot had been gathered.
All that, however, is changed, and, with many another good custom,
Quite fallen out of the fashion; for every man woos for himself now.
Therefore let every man hear to his face pronounced the refusal,
If a refusal there be, and stand shamed in the sight of the maiden!"
"Let that be as it may!" made answer the youth, who had scarcely
Unto the words paid heed; but in silence had made his decision.
"I will go thither myself, will myself hear my destiny spoken
Out of the lips of a maiden in whom I a confidence cherish
Greater than heart of man has e'er before cherished in woman.
Say what she will, 'twill be good and wise; of that I am certain.
Should I behold her never again, yet this once will I see her;
Yet this once the clear gaze of those dark eyes will encounter.
If I must press her ne'er to my heart, yet that neck and that bosom
Will I behold once more, that my arm so longs to encircle;
Once more that mouth will see, whose kiss and whose 'yes' would for ever
Render me happy, from which a 'no' will for ever destroy me.
But ye must leave me alone. Do not wait for me here; but return ye
Back to my father and mother again, and give them the knowledge
That their son has not been deceived, that the maiden is worthy.
So then leave me alone! I shall follow the footpath that crosses
Over the hill by the pear-tree, and thence descends through our vineyard,
Taking a shorter way home. And oh, may I bring to our dwelling,
Joyful and quick my beloved! but perhaps I alone may come creeping
Over that path to the house, and ne'er again tread it with gladness."
Thus he spoke, and gave up the reins to the hand of the pastor,
Who understandingly grasped them, the foaming horses controlling,
Speedily mounted the carriage, and sat in the seat of the driver.
But thou didst hesitate, provident neighbor, and say in remonstrance:
"Heart and soul and spirit, my friend, I willingly trust thee;
But as for life and limb, they are not in the safest of keeping,
When the temporal reins are usurped by the hand of the clergy."
But thou didst laugh at his words, intelligent pastor, and answer:
"Sit thee down, and contentedly trust me both body and spirit;
For, in holding the reins, my hand grew long ago skilful,
Long has my eye been trained in making the nicest of turnings;
For we were practised well in driving the carriage in Strasburg,
When I the youthful baron accompanied thither; then daily
Rolled the carriage, guided by me, through the echoing gateway,
Out over dusty roads till we reached the meadows and lindens,
Steering through groups of the town's-folk beguiling the day there
with walking."
Thereupon, half-reassured, the neighbor ascended the wagon,
Sat like one who for a prudent leap is holding him ready,
And the stallions sped rapidly homeward, desiring their stable.
Clouds of dust whirled up from under their powerful hoof-beats.
Long the youth stood there yet, and saw the dust in its rising,
Saw the dust as it settled again: he stood there unheeding.