“‘Go to the barber and get bled,’ she answered. ”Oh, she is a stone, man; she is a stone.”
“Be comforted, lad,” said the watchman, who was a kind and experienced man. “If she is a stone, we will manage her. Stones cannot be raised by whining and pining, good friend. When there is a stone on the ground you must loosen it first by a sharp knock, then you can lift it. Do you understand?”
“What do you mean? Shall I run into her to shake her loose?”
“Not so fast, my lad. There is such a thing as a simile you must know. Supposing, for instance, I say you are an ass, you must not take it in dead earnest, but merely as a means of comparison.”
“Yes, yes,” said Blindschleicher. “When I hear you talk like that I understand you well. You are not rude like the others, and you are my best friend. But if I could but have Liese!”
“Women,” said the watchman with an air of superior knowledge, standing still and leaning upon his long staff, “women are the most peculiar among God’s creatures. The first human being did sorry credit to his creator, as is apt to be the case when you’re a new hand at making things. It turned out a plain wooden man. But the second human being—the second, you see, was much more of a success. It turned out to be something very different from the man, much finer, so much finer. The truth is, man is the job of an apprentice; woman shows the touch of a master. I understand women; ah, I understand them! An old watchman like me, who has his eyes open every hour of the night, knows a thing or two, good friend. If you cannot win them with dainties and fine manners, remember that it isn’t every bird that can be caught with sugar. Try some other way; do something to offend her. Not in any faint-hearted, playful way, but seriously and thoroughly; do something to her that will make her think of you, and that will give her pain when she thinks of you. Soon she will stop teasing you and looking upon you with disdainful indifference. Perhaps she will hate you; but, my friend, you must know that hatred is a good deal nearer to love than indifference is. There is many a tale I could tell you of how love began with anger and pain. That’s what I meant about loosening the stone. There is nothing like the harsh, reckless deed of a man to make an impression. Try it; you can’t lose anything.”
Blindschleicher went his way and made extensive preparations to think out this new idea. For hours he walked by the side of the brook, but how can we catch hold of an idea when the water is making so much noise! He stole across the fields, but there the crickets disturbed him, or a dark, mysterious figure would rise up in front of him which, for all he knew, might be a ghost. To be sure the schoolmaster had said to him, “Blindschleicher, I pledge you my word, you are safe from ghosts!” But then, who knows! It seems wicked enough to be thinking out something in the silent night wherewith to offend one’s beloved. “Wicked or not wicked, if I could but make her have me!”
It was not until he was pulling off his boots in his own room that various more or less attractive devices occurred to him by means of which he might offend her. When he was in bed he discarded them one by one. He thought he could hurt her most deeply by going up to her and saying, “Liese, you do not love me; farewell for ever, I go to die!” He was quite stupefied by the power of this thought. It gave the poor fellow a headache, and the next morning when he got up, and the sun shone brightly upon the flowers of the garden, he felt that this would not do, and he said to himself, “Best say nothing about dying.”
This selfsame day was a Sunday, so he donned his tight grey pantaloons, a yellow flowered vest, with the ends of a cherry-coloured necktie fluttering over it, put rosebuds in all of the button-holes of his blue jacket, arranged the two little greased crescents of hair neatly upon his cheeks, bestowed due care upon his sprouting moustache, and a look in the mirror convincing him that he was irresistible, his heart swelled with happy forebodings.
It was with solemn feelings that he walked through the shady alley to church; this very afternoon he would try to meet Liese, and would carry out his purpose of mortally offending her. She would weep, she would pout; he would ask her forgiveness, and then their relation would appear altogether in a new light. Should these extremest measures prove unsuccessful, then he would put her out of his mind and offend some other girl. If that was all that was required, why love was easy play.