HOW THE HUNTER LIVES AT THE OBERHOF
Several days passed at the Oberhof in the usual quiet, monotonous way. Still no word came from old Jochem, regarding either himself or the escaped adventurer; and a mild anxiety gradually began, after a while, to steal over his young master. For nowadays time is so regulated and so enmeshes us that nobody, no matter how free and independent he may be, can long endure an existence which does not offer him some occupation or social relation to fall back on.
As much as he could, to be sure, the Hunter associated with the Justice, and the man's originality continued to attract him just as strongly as it had done on the first day of their acquaintance. But the old man was occupied the greater part of the time with matters pertaining to his household, and then he had, too, a great many things to discuss with outsiders, since every day people dropped in at the farm to solicit his help or advice. On these occasions the Hunter noticed that the Justice, in the truest sense of the word, never did anything gratis. For neighbors, relatives, and friends he was ready to do anything, but they had always to do something for him in return, even were it only an errand in a neighboring peasant community, or some other small service of this kind.
Every day something was fired at, but regularly missed; so that the old man, who invariably hit his mark, no matter what he aimed at, began to look with astonishment upon these futile efforts. It was a fortunate thing for our Hunter that the nearest estate-owner happened at that time to be away on a trip with his family and servants, otherwise the professional gunners up on the "Open Tribunal" would probably have caught him sooner or later.
At noon on the following day the Hunter heard a noise under his window; he looked out and saw that a number of men were standing in front of the house. Just then the Justice, dressed in his Sunday clothes, stepped out of the door, and at the same time a two-horse wagon drew up opposite by the oak grove. In the wagon was a man in black robes, apparently a clergyman; he was sitting among several baskets, in some of which fowls seemed to be fluttering. A little behind him sat a woman in bourgeois dress, who was holding another basket rigidly in her lap. In front by the horses stood a peasant with the whip, his arm resting on the neck of one of the animals. Beside him was a maid, also holding a basket, covered with a snow-white napkin, under her arm. A man in a wide brown overcoat, whose thoughtful gait and solemn face made it at once unmistakably evident that he was a sexton, walked with dignity from the wagon to the house, placed himself in front of the Justice, lifted his hat, and recited the following verses:
Before your gate you now may see
The Sexton and the Dominie,
The Sexton's wife, the house-maid too,
Who've come to get what is their due,
By custom old from this domain,
The hens, the eggs, the cheeses twain;
So tell us then without delay
If you are all prepared to pay.
While listening to this little recitation the Justice had respectfully removed his hat. Afterwards he approached the wagon, bowed to the clergyman, reverently helped him to alight, and then stood off at one side with him and held a conversation, which the Hunter could not overhear, about various matters. In the meantime the woman with the basket had also stepped down and taken a position beside the Sexton, the peasant and the maid, and behind the two chief persons, as if for a procession.
The Hunter, in order to ascertain the significance of this scene, went downstairs and observed that the entrance-hall was sprinkled with white sand, and the best room, adjacent to it, decorated with green branches. Inside, also dressed up in her Sunday best, sat the daughter; she was spinning as if she meant to turn out an entire skein of yarn that very day. She looked very red and did not glance up from her work. He entered the room and was just about to obtain his information from her, when the procession of strangers, including the Justice, crossed the threshold of the entrance-hall. At the head marched the clergyman, behind him the Sexton, then the peasant, then the maid, then the Sexton's wife, and finally the Justice, each one marching alone. The clergyman approached the daughter, who had not yet glanced up from her spinning-wheel, addressed her with a friendly greeting, and said:
"Quite right, Miss! When the bride-to-be makes her wheel go so industriously beforehand, her sweetheart may hope and expect to have full chests and boxes afterwards. When is the wedding to be?"
"A week from Thursday, your reverence, if it is permissible," replied the bride, turning, if possible, even redder than before. She humbly kissed the clergyman's hand—the latter was still a youngish man—took his hat and cane from him, and handed him, by way of welcome, a refreshing drink. The others, after they had formed a circle around the bride, and had likewise remembered her with a handshake and an expression of good will, also partook of the refreshing beverage; thereupon they left the room and went into the entrance-hall. The clergyman, however, continued to discuss the affairs of the community with the Justice, who, with his hat in his hand all the time, stood before him in reverential posture.