Behrens all his hopes and expectations? It was because he feared to make them hope lest they should afterwards be disappointed. His own anxiety was enough for him to bear. Brasig sat still in an arm-chair, and turned his head with every change of movement made by his friend.

He watched Hawermann with much the same intensity as Bolster had watched young Joseph when he had put on his cap in the house.

"Charles," he said at last, "I am very glad of this for your sake.

You've grown quite active again and I'm sure that that activity will do you good. But you ought to engage a lawyer. I advise you to choose Mr.

Rein, he's a clever fellow, and knows how to turn and twist about in spite of his height. You'll never be able to manage the affair alone Charles; but he'll help you, and if you like I'll bring the matter before the Reform club, and then your fellow-citizens will be able to help you to our rights."--"For heaven's sake, Brasig, do nothing of the kind! How can you think of publishing such thing? I am only afraid lest Kurz should speak of it."--"Kurz? No, Charles, don't trouble your head about him, he'll not talk about it to-day at least, for I've been to see him and have lectured him until he can neither hear nor see, and to-morrow he's in for a sore throat, and so won't be able to speak."--"What do you mean, Brasig? Kurz in for a sore throat?" cried Hawermann laughing in spite of his anxiety. "What are you talking about?"--"Don't laugh, Charles. You must know that his riding horse has inflorenza, and the vet has ordered that the old beast was to be separated from the others for fear of infecting them. Kurz is amusing himself just now by purring over the sick horse in his wadded dressing gown and then going to see how the other horses are getting on. So he's certain to infect the whole stable, for nothing carries infection so well as cotton wool--indeed wadding is looked upon as the best known absorbant of infection--you'll see that he'll catch the disease himself and will have a sore throat to-morrow. The Glanders is infectious, so why not inflorenza?"

Hawermann spent a very restless night; but though he had not slept he felt strong and capable of exertion next morning, for a ray of hope had pierced through the night of his sorrow and had gilded the future with its brightness. He could not remain in the house; the four walls seemed to impede his breathing; he must have more room for his restlessness to expend itself, and long before Brasig went to the town hall at nine o'clock in pursuance of the orders he had received from the mayor, Hawermann was walking along the quiet path-way through the green spring fields. And what a beautiful spring it was! It seemed as though the heavens were saying to the earth: "Hope on!" and as though the earth repeated the message to man: "Hope on!" The old bailiff hearing the good tidings told him by the fresh green leaves and the joyous songs of the birds, cried aloud: "Hope on!"

The Heavens did not always keep their word to the earth, for the last year had been a year of scarcity; nor did the earth always keep her promise to man, for the last year had been one of misery; would she be as good as her word to the old man now? He could not tell; but he put faith in the message he had received. He walked on and on, right through Gurlitz. He was now going along the very footpath down which he and Frank had walked together on that Palm Sunday when his daughter was confirmed. He knew that it was on that day that Frank's heart had first wakened to thoughts of love--the young man had written to him lately, he often wrote to him--and now a bitter feeling rose in his heart that so much innocent happiness should have been destroyed by the ignorance and unrighteousness of others. He turned into another path to the right that led to Rexow, that he might not be obliged to go through the Pumpelhagen garden. He saw a girl coming towards him with a child in her arms, who, when she came close to him, stopped short, and exclaimed: "Good gracious, Mr. Hawermann, is it really you. I hav'n't seen you for such a long time."--"How d'ye do, Sophia," said Hawermann, looking at the child, "how are you getting on?"--"Oh, Sir, very badly.

Christian Dasel did something that angered the squire. You see he was determined to marry me whether Mr. von Rambow allowed it or not, and so he was turned away and I was to have gone too, but my mistress wouldn't part with me. Well do you want to get down? Run then," she said to the child who was kicking and struggling to get out of her arms. "I have always to take the little one out at this hour," Sophia went on, "because my mistress is busy with the housekeeping, and the child used to get restless." Hawermann watched the little girl. She was plucking flowers by the side of the path, at last she came up to him, and said: "There--man," at the same time giving him a daisy. And immediately he remembered that other daisy which a child--his own child--had given him long years ago. He took the little girl in his arms and kissed her, and she stroked his white hair murmuring "ah--ah." Then he put her down again, and said as he turned to go: "You'd better go straight home, Sophie Degel, it's going to rain." As he walked on a spring shower began to fall in slow drops upon the earth, and his heart rejoiced in it, as much as the tender shoots of gra.s.s. What had become of his feeling of hatred?

When Hawermann reached his sister's house, Mrs. Nussler hastened to meet him as fast as her stoutness would allow: "Charles," she exclaimed. "Bless me, Charles! Here you are at last! How much more cheerful you look, and so well too! What has happened, brother Charles?

Anything good?"--"Yes, dear, yes, but I'll tell you afterwards. Where's Joseph?"--"Joseph? Good gracious, that's a difficult question to answer. No one knows where he is. Now-a-days he comes and goes like a bird upon a branch. Ever since it was settled that Rudolph and Mina are to be married next week, on Friday--of course you'll come to the wedding?--he has had no rest either day or night. He sometimes goes out to see how the farm's getting on, sometimes he goes to find out that the spring sowing's all right, or perhaps he walks about the fields and comes in late in the evening quite worn out. It really seems as if he were trying to get through all the work in the last eight days before the marriage, that he had neglected to do during the whole five and twenty years in which he has idled away his time."--"Ah, well, leave him alone, there's no harm in that."--"That's just what I say, but Rudolph is angry with him for poking his nose into everything."--"Things will soon right themselves, never fear. Are all your people quiet?"--"Oh yes, and if Joseph hadn't wanted to make a speech about the geese, we should hardly have known that there was such a thing as disaffection in the neighbourhood, but from what I hear matters look badly at Gurlitz and Pumpelhagen."--"At Pumpelhagen too?"--"Yes, indeed. Neither of them confesses it; he doesn't say so, nor does she; but everyone knows that there may be an explosion there any day. He is terribly in debt, and the labourers want their wages, which he has allowed to mount up I suppose. The wisest thing he could do would be to get you to go back to him as bailiff."--"Pshaw! That last is nonsense."--"I said so too. I told Mrs. von Rambow that you could never go back there."--"What?" asked Hawermann quickly, "have you been to see her lately?"--"Yes, didn't Brasig tell you that we intended to go?"--"He said that you spoke of going, but I didn't know that you had really gone."--"You see, Charles, this was the way of it.

Triddelfitz brought all kinds of firearms here, which he told us he was going to use against the people, so I said to Joseph that we ought to go and see Mr. and Mrs. von Rambow. They had rather held aloof from us before, and so we needn't have gone; but, Charles, these are hard times. I wouldn't give much for neighbours who won't do each other a kindness in such times as these. Well we drove over to Pumpelhagen.

Joseph saw the squire, and what pa.s.sed between them will of course never be known to any human being.--'Joseph,' I asked, 'what did he say to you?'--'Nothing,' he answered.--'What did you say to each other?' I asked again.--'What was the good of talking much?' he said.--'What was the last thing he said to you?' I asked.--'He said good-bye,' he answered, 'but, mother,' he added, 'I'll never go there again. One either grows mad or foolish there.'"--"And how did she receive you?"

asked Hawermann.--"Ah me, Charles, I believe that if she had shown what she felt, she would have thrown her arms round my neck, and would have wept tears of blood. She made me go into her morning-room and looked so kind and friendly, that I told her, that as her neighbour I felt drawn to come and see her, and ask if I could be of any use to her in the present state of affairs. She looked up in my face quietly and trustfully, and asked: 'What is your brother doing just now?' When I told her as, thank G.o.d, I could, that you were getting on pretty well, she asked after Louisa, and as I could also give a good account of her, I did so, and she looked pleased. She then told me how she managed her household, but she didn't dwell upon it as a woman in my position would have done; still I could see that she understood how to practise economy. Poor thing, necessity may have taught that. Then, Charles, I called up all my courage, rose and taking her hand in both of mine, said: She must not repulse me; no one could tell what might happen in these days; she might be in need of help some time or other--of course she had many friends, but they might be too far away to be appealed to--and I only wanted to a.s.sure her, that if ever she wanted me, I was ready to go to her, and that as I was her neighbour, I was, as Mrs.

Behrens would say, 'the nearest' to her, I would do anything I could for her. Well, Charles, her eyes filled with tears. She turned her face from me to wipe them away, and when she looked at me again it was with an affectionate smile, and taking my hand she said she would thank me in the best way she knew. She then took me into another room, and lifting her little child in her arms, she held it towards me, telling it to give me a kiss. What a little darling it is, to be sure!"--"Yes,"

said Hawermann, "I saw the child this morning. But didn't she complain to you of anything?"--"No, Charles, not a word. She said nothing about him, or her position, and when we came home we were no wiser than when we set out; at least, I can only speak for myself, for Joseph told me nothing of what had pa.s.sed between him and Mr. von Rambow, if indeed they _did_ say anything to each other."--"Well, that doesn't matter, dear. All the world knows that Mr. von Rambow is in great want of money: Pomuchelskopp sent him notice to pay up the mortgage he holds on the estate on S. Anthony's day, and as the squire failed to do so, he has now entered into arrangements for going to law with him. Moses wants his money at midsummer, and he won't get it either, for it would be impossible for Mr. von Rambow to raise the money by that time, the country is in such a state. I fear the place will have to be sold to pay the creditors and that Pomuchelskopp will buy it. But if the times should change for the better, and the estate were only well managed, it might be made to weather the storm in spite of all that's come and gone. You will do what you can to help Mrs. von Rambow, and so will I.

If the squire will only consent to have the farming matters put into good hands, I'll give him all my savings willingly. Still that's not enough. You might do something too, and I would speak seriously to Moses. Matters will indeed have come to a pretty pa.s.s if honest men can't beat a rogue in the long run. Pomuchelskopp thinks he has muddied the water sufficiently to enable him to land his fish."--"Ah, Charles, if he'd only take to farming properly and get you to go back there as bailiff, then ....."--"No, dear," said Hawermann decidedly, "I'll never go back there. But that doesn't matter. Thank G.o.d there's no lack of good farmers in the country, and he can easily get another bailiff.

It's only possible to help him on the express condition that he puts the entire management of his property into the hands of a responsible person."--"That's all very well. We have now to provide Mina's outfit.

Kurz might do more than he does for his only son, but he always croaks about poverty--and we want to settle matters out and out with Rudolph.

Besides that we have to make arrangements for our own old age, and our money is mostly laid out in mortgages."--"Moses will help you to arrange that. Look here, Sis, you told the poor lady that you would help her, and I know that you really meant what you said--the time has come for you to keep your promise."--"Yes, Charles, but Joseph--what will Joseph say?"--"Oh, Joseph has obeyed you for five and twenty years, and he won't refuse to do your bidding now."--"You're right, Charles, he _must_ do this.--I've always acted for the best, and now he's beginning to set himself up against me. He makes so many difficulties about everything that I can hardly manage him," and as she spoke, Mrs. Nussler sprang from her chair, and struck the table vehemently with her clenched hand in front of her brother as if he were Joseph.--"You've succeeded in doing many a kind good action in the years that are past, Dorothea, and I'm sure that you won't fail now.

G.o.d keep you, dear, and now, good-bye." He then kissed his sister and went away.

How he enjoyed that walk! The anxiety that had oppressed him the day before and early that morning had quite left him now, and his heart was full of hope. The blue sky and the green earth seemed to partic.i.p.ate in the rest and peace that had taken up their abode in his soul, and when he reached home he smiled so cheerfully in answer to his daughter's scolding, and to Mrs. Behrens loudly expressed astonishment at his not having come in to dinner, that Zachariah Brasig stared at him blankly, and thought: "Charles must have discovered some new piece of evidence,"

for he had learnt a good deal that was new to him of the nature of evidence that morning. So he began to make frightful grimaces at his friend, which Hawermann at last interpreted as signs that he should go upstairs and have a talk with him.

When they were safely in Hawermann's room, the old bailiff exclaimed excitedly: "Is there anything new Brasig? Have they found out anything more?"--"Charles," said Brasig, sticking a long pipe in his mouth and beginning to put on a pair of leggings, which he perhaps found rather uncomfortable, for he never wore them except on this one occasion: "do you see nothing different from usual in my appearance?"--"Yes,"

answered Hawermann, "these new leggings, and also that you seem to be pleased about something or other."--"Oh that's nothing. Higher up if you please!"--"Nay, then I can't tell."--"Charles," said Brasig, standing upright before his friend, "as sure as you see me here, I've been appointed a.s.sessor in the criminal court, and shall have four pence an hour whenever I have to appear in my place there."--"Ah never mind that just now; tell me how my case is getting on." Brasig looked his friend full in the face, winked at him solemnly and said: "I mustn't tell you, Charles, and I won't. His worship the mayor expressly forbad me to speak of what I knew to anyone in our town, or even to you, for he says it would only trouble you needlessly. We must have better evidence, he told me, before we can make out a case. The greatest secrecy is necessary the mayor says, in order to unravel this cursed mystery, and if the whole town were to know what we were about, the band of plotters would be warned to hide any remaining traces of their villainy. This much I can tell you; they've been telling no end of lies, and they're sure to go on lying, till they get themselves into such a fix, that they can't get out of it again."

There was a knock at the door. A postman came in and gave Hawermann a letter; "from Paris," he said as he went away. "Bless me, Charles, what grand acquaintances you've got," said Brasig, "from Paris, indeed!"--"It's from Frank," answered Hawermann opening the letter hastily, and his hand trembled as he did so. He often heard from Frank, and yet a vague uneasiness always came over him when he got the letters, for he never could make up his mind whether he should tell Louisa about them. He read. The letter was full of the old friendliness and affection. Every word recalled the remembrance of earlier days, but there was not a single allusion to his love for Louisa. Frank concluded by saying that he intended to remain in Paris until midsummer, when he would go home. Hawermann told Brasig the last bit of news, and then put the letter in his pocket. Meanwhile Brasig had been walking up and down the room thoughtfully, and Hawermann might have heard what he was muttering to himself: "Marvellous! It's really like a sign of G.o.d's favour! The mayor can have nothing to say against this plan. Paris has nothing to do with the evidence for or against, and this is quite a private matter--Charles," he at last asked aloud, going up to Hawermann, and looking at him as he had that morning seen the mayor look at the weaver: "Tell me the truth, and the whole truth. Does your young Mr. von Rambow, I mean your old pupil, know that I know what you and Mrs. Behrens know of what pa.s.sed between him and Louisa, and which no one is to know?"--"I can't tell, Brasig ...."--"All right, Charles, I see that I hav'n't expressed myself clearly. I mean, does he think like you and Mrs. Behrens that I wish him success in his love for Louisa. That's what I wanted to say, so tell me your opinion."--"Yes, Brasig, he knows that you know about it, and that you wish him well; but what's the good of talking of it?"--"All right, Charles, I understand. But I must go now; I have invited David Berger, his trumpetting angels and all the male members of the choir to drink punch with me at Grammelin's this evening, and so I must have everything ready. Good-bye," and then he went away, but returned immediately to say: "Charles, will you tell Mrs. Behrens that I shan't come home to supper this evening. If I were to tell her about the punch she would make some spiritual remarks about the wickedness of my conduct. Don't be alarmed if I am rather late, I've got a latch key." A few minutes afterwards he once more came back to say: "What can be done, Charles, shall be done."--"I believe you," said Hawermann, for he thought of the punch, "you'll do your best." Brasig nodded to him as much as to say that he might trust to him, and then went away.

Hawermann sat still, and taking his letter out of his pocket read it again. Who can blame him if he allowed all kinds of hopeful fancies to blossom in his heart? The warm affection that showed itself in every line of Frank's letter cheered him in the same way as the bright spring weather had done that morning, and sounded as pleasant to his ear as the happy songs the birds had sung to him during his walk. Was his hope to be again destroyed? Time would show! Ah Time, and Hope! They are often as much opposed to each other as light and darkness. What man, who after watching through a long night, ventures to admit a ray of hope into his trembling heart, and sees the first glimmer of light showing itself on the dark sky, does not long for time to pa.s.s quickly and let the sun shine out in all its glory.

CHAPTER X.

Next morning when Zachariah Brasig got up, he put both hands up to his head, and said: "You may be glad, Charles, that my headache isn't worse than it is, for otherwise who could act as a.s.sessor to-day? If I had allowed Grammelin to make the punch after his confounded receipt I should have had neither more nor less than a frightful buzzing in my head. As it was, I made the punch myself."--"I suppose," said Hawermann, "that you never missed your turn."--"Well certainly the younger ones didn't. I kept rather back. I sat beside David Berger, and--oh Charles--what that fellow can get through! I suppose it's because of his business, but he drank one gla.s.s after another without a pause! It was only quite at the end that he grew what is called sentimental, and, seizing my arm, said with tears in his eyes, that his earnings were so small in these times of political agitation, that both I and Mr. Sussmann--Kurz's shopman--would be sorry for him if we knew it. Mr. Sussmann then proposed that a fraternity ball should be got up for David Berger's benefit, that's to say, a political ball at which all cla.s.ses; n.o.bles, squires, tenant-farmers, and towns-folk should meet, shake hands and dance together, indeed they might even kiss each other if they liked for all that I care. The motion was at once carried, and next Sunday week is the day chosen for the ball. Mr.

Sussmann has prepared a list, and I have secured tickets for you and me, Mrs. Behrens and Louisa."--"Brasig! What could you have been thinking of? How can Mrs. Behrens or Louisa go to a ball, or I either, for that matter."--"You must go. It's for a n.o.ble purpose."--"You won't be able to go either Brasig, for Mina is to be married on Friday week, and on the following Sunday, she's to go to church in state. What would my sister say if you were not to be at Rexow because of a stupid ball?"--"Of course that's a good reason for changing my mind about the ball, so good-bye for the present, Charles, I must go and see Mr.

Sussmann at once about this alteration, and then I have to be at the town hall--you understand? Four pence an hour."

On leaving home Brasig went straight to Kurz's shop, but Mr. Sussmann was not there. Kurz was fussing about, opening drawers and shuting them again with a bang. "Good morning, Kurz, where's your young gentleman?"--"I have no young gentleman. I'm master here."--"Take care, Kurz, remember that we are living in a democratic age, and that ...."--"What do you mean? Take care, do you say? I think very little of democracy when it makes my shopman lie in bed till this hour of the morning and spend the night in drinking punch. Old people should be ashamed ...."--"Stop, Kurz, don't begin to make me flattering speeches again like those of last Sunday, I won't allow it because of my position in the law courts. Now good-bye, Kurz, I'm sorry for you.

You've got inflorenza and ought to go to bed, you have pains in all your bones, and if you were to feel your glands you would find that you were in for a regular sore throat." He then went away, leaving Kurz in a worse humour than that in which he had found him. The latter knocked about the things in the shop, abusing everything and everybody, till at last when the shopman appeared, Mrs. Kurz came to the rescue, and carrying off her worthy husband made him go to bed, and so kept him quiet for the time being.

After this little scene Brasig went to the town-hall, where he earned one and eight pence without any trouble to himself, for the sitting of the justices lasted five hours. When he came home dinner was over, and so he had to content himself with something that had been kept hot for him, and Mrs. Behrens grumbled about irregular hours, saying that Brasig had not come in until two o'clock that morning, and now he wanted to have dinner at two in the afternoon. The old bailiff listened to her scolding with a broad self-satisfied grin on his face, as much as to say: if you only knew what hard work I've been doing, and how useful I've been, you would pat me and stroke me, kiss me and pet me as you've never done before. When he had finished dinner, he rose and said solemnly: "It'll all come to light, Mrs. Behrens, as his worship, the mayor, would say," and winking at Hawermann, he continued: "Bonus! as Mr. Rein says." Then going to Louisa, he took her in his arms and kissed her, saying: "Louie, dear, will you give me a sheet of your best writing paper? I want to send a small--piece of evidence let me call it--so that it may carry well, it has a long way to go." As he left the room with the sheet of paper he turned round again, and said: "As I told you before, Charles, what can be done shall be done." He came back once more to say: "I shall be at home in good time for supper, Mrs.

Behrens."

He went to the post-office. The post-master was at home, but he was always at home. He had allowed himself to be confined in a regular bird-cage of a room, which he dignified by the name of an office, for the salary of twenty two pounds ten a year. When he was not occupied with any postal business, he amused himself by whistling and singing like a canary-bird. He was thus employed when Brasig came in, and said: "Good morning, post-master. You are a man of honour, so I do not hesitate to speak to you about an affair of great delicacy. You needn't be told what it is exactly, for it is a secret, and you must promise not to breathe a word of what I am at liberty to tell you. I am going to write to Paris."--"To Paris? Confound you, what have you got to do writing to Paris?"--"To Paris," repeated Brasig, drawing himself up.--"What the devil's the matter now! One bailiff gets a letter from Paris, and another wants to send one there. Well, I'll look and see how much the postage will cost." He looked it up in his book, and said at last: "I can't find it here. But it'll cost a pretty penny, it can't be less than sixteen pence."--"That doesn't matter. I earned one and eight pence this morning at the town-hall."--"Who are you going to write to?"--"To young Mr. Frank von Rambow."--"Do you know his address, the place where he lives?"--"Why, Paris!"--"But Paris is a large place. You must know the name of the street and the number of his house."--"G.o.d bless my soul!" cried Brasig. "What a fuss to make about such a small matter! I don't know either."--"Can't you ask Hawermann?"--"But you see that's impossible. I don't want him to know anything about it."--"Then the only thing I can think of, is to send the letter to Dr. urtlingen at the Mecklenburg Emba.s.sy, perhaps he may find out where he lives."--"Of course he _must_," said Brasig, "for the letter is one of great importance, and he's paid for doing such things. But I was going to ask, if I might write here in your house, as I don't want Hawermann to know anything about the letter?"--"Oh, certainly," replied the post-master, "come in here that my wife mayn't see you, for though properly speaking this is only a waiting room, she won't allow anyone under the rank of a count to enter it. I'm afraid that I must lock you in."--Brasig consented, so there he sat from three in the afternoon till dusk of evening writing his letter. In the office in front of him was the post-master whistling merrily. The post-mistress tried to get into her best parlour, but all in vain did she rattle at the door, her husband had the key in his pocket, and went on whistling and singing as if he had nothing to do with it. Brasig wrote and wrote. At last the letter was finished. He read it over and we may now see what he had written, it was as follows:

"Honoured Sir,

"A very strange thing has happened here. Kurz, the shopkeeper had the manure he bought for his own field carted to, and spread over that of Wredow, the baker, who is his rival in respect to the town jail.

Hawermann found a bit of black waxcloth with the Rambow arms upon it amongst the manure, and this has been a great comfort to him, because of the suspicion resting on him of having taken part in the theft of the Louis d'ors in the year '45, especially as the mayor says that it is a piece of evidence. The mayor has just appointed me a.s.sessor, in which post I can make a little money, but at great inconvenience to myself, for I have always been accustomed to lead a very active life as farm-bailiff, and indeed I ought still to take a great deal of exercise because of my gout. I havn't to work hard, but sitting still so long makes me horribly sleepy. However there's one good thing in it, and that is, that I get to know what the mayor won't let me tell Hawermann.

But as you are in Paris, and not in Rahnstadt, I can tell you as a friend, all that is going on. The thing is this. The weaver told a lie when he said he had never had any communication with his divorced wife, and that, the mayor says, is another piece of evidence. Indeed we have so many of these links in the chain of evidence, that it's enough to make even a dog howl to think that more can't be made out of them. The central point of the story is widow Kahlert. Now widow Kahlert is determined to marry the weaver, and has discovered that he won't have her, because his divorced wife has made up her mind to marry him again.

This discovery has given rise to an evil feeling in dame Kahlert's breast, which may be characterised as jealousy, and so she has let fall some new bits of evidence that the mayor tells me are both important and relevant, or as I should say, to the point. The mayor says, however, that one has to be very cautious about believing the woman, for she is so enraged that she wouldn't stick at a lie if she thought it would serve her cause. I don't know about the lies, but I'm sure that she told the truth when she said that the weaver showed her a number of Danish double Louis d'ors which he has in his possession, for Kruger, the butcher, has twice borne witness to his having them. And this morning while the weaver was giving us new evidence of his powers lying, Hoppner and some other detectives were busy searching his house, where they found _nine_ Danish double Louis d'ors in the secret drawer of his desk. He tried to deny all knowledge of them at first, but did not succeed in convincing any one. The former Mrs. Schmidt is also arrested as a princ.i.p.al actor in this affair, for the police have found in her possession a snuff box which belonged to the late Mr. Behrens, and which had always been kept under a gla.s.s case as a sort of heir loom. This theft has gained her free quarters in the jail. Dame Kahlert is there too, but merely for puncto cichuriarum,[3] for in her pa.s.sion she managed to insult all the members of the town-council including his worship the mayor, and myself the a.s.sessor. They all tell lies till they are black in the face, but what good does that do them? The mayor says he is morally certain that these people committed the theft, and that it will be proved that they did so some time or other. What a triumph it will be for my friend Charles Hawermann, when he is proved in his old age to be as innocent as an angel, and can go about among the people in his white hair and white robes of innocence. They will all be as much ashamed of themselves for ever having suspected him, as a poodle is, when a can of water is poured over him. I allude--respectfully of course--to Pomuchelskopp and the squire of Pumpelhagen; by the way I must tell you that these two are no longer friends, because Samuel has gone to law with the other; but I will say no more about that, for I have already given Pomuchelskopp a bit of my mind at our Reform-club, and your cousin of Pumpelhagen can't abide me.

Things are going badly with him just now, as besides what I have told you, Moses has given him notice to pay up his mortgage at midsummer. He has no money and no fodder, so how is he to live? He is very ignorant.

Remember, you must never let Hawermann know that I have written to you, for it is a secret. I thought you would like to know who the real rogues were, and that Charles Hawermann--G.o.d be thanked!--is not one of them. He has grown much more cheerful since the beginning of these discoveries, and can kick out now like a colt when its saddle is taken off. I look upon this as a good sign for the future. The only news I can give you of your old friends here is, that Mina and Rudolph are to be united in marriage on the Friday of next week. Mrs. Nussler, whom you no doubt recollect as an extremely handsome young woman, is very well indeed, but has perhaps grown a little fatter than she used to be.

Joseph also enjoys very good health, and is bringing up a new heir to the throne in preparation for his retiring on a pension. Your old fellow pupil, Triddelfitz, is now factotum at Pumpelhagen. Hawermann declares that he will turn out well in the end, but I say that he is a greyhound, for he went about shooting at the people, and has put Mrs.

Nussler and me under the ban because we have put a stop to that little amus.e.m.e.nt. We have got up a Reform-club at Rahnstadt. Young parson G.o.dfrey preaches against it, but Lina knows how to calm him down.

Rector Baldrian has carried the cause of the seamstresses and a man called Plato, Platow or Patow through the Reform-club; but Kurz has been turned out of it repeatedly; his four horses have all got inflorenza; the first to take the illness was his old saddle horse, and he himself will be the last, for he has begun to show symptoms of having taken the disease. Old Mrs. Behrens is still the honoured head of our house, and provides us with meat and drink and lodging, for Hawermann and I live in her house and have our daily bread there. She, as well as Hawermann, would beg to be remembered to you, but she can't send you any message as she doesn't know that I am writing. We often talk of you, for you are an ever present picture before our eyes. I think that I have nothing more to tell you--oh, I forgot--Pomuchelskopp has got himself elected member of the Reform-club; Schulz, the carpenter, is a very good fellow, he stood by me bravely on that occasion; Christian Dasel has been turned off by your cousin; and no traces of Regel have as yet been found; but Louisa Hawermann is, thank G.o.d, quite well.

"Hoping that my having written will neither trouble you nor cause you any discomfort, I have the honour to take leave of you with the greatest respect, and to give you my good wishes for your happiness as an old friend. I am,

"Your very obedient

"Zachariah Brasig,

"formerly bailiff, now a.s.sessor."

"Rahnstadt. May 13th, 1848."

"P.S. I think it is as well to mention that I am writing this letter in the post-mistress' sanctum, into which the post-master has locked me for the express purpose, and he has promised to tell no one of my letter. The reason for my keeping it such a secret is that I don't want Hawermann or Mrs. Behrens or Louisa to know anything about it. Louisa gave me this sheet of paper, and I think you will like to know that it was from her I got it, for I remember the days of my own youth when I had three sweethearts all at once. Louisa goes about her father, doing little things for him with all love and humility, to everyone else she is a costly pearl of humanity. When I hear from you that you would like to have another letter from me, I will write from time to time and let you know the latest news of these thievish wretches. If you happen to be in our part of the world on Sunday week, I will give you an invitation to our fraternity ball, all the seamstresses are to be asked to it.

"Z. B."

As soon as Brasig had finished his labours, he knocked and battered at the door, and when the postmaster unlocked it and let him out, great drops of perspiration were standing on his forehead.--"Bless me!" cried the post-master, "how ghastly you look! Work that one's unused to is the hardest of all, isn't it?"--He then took the letter and put it in an envelope which he addressed to Mr. von Rambow, and after that he enclosed it in a second envelope addressed to the Mecklenburg Emba.s.sy at Paris. Brasig paid down his sixteen pence, which turned out to be the exact price of the postage, so the letter might now go on its journey at once in the mail cart which was waiting at the door. Whilst he was putting up the letter the post-master sang: "A student of Leipzig, &c. &c.", but when Brasig was going away he changed his song to: "A weighty despatch old Custine sendeth, to Paris quick his messenger wendeth. The Saxons and Prussians are marching fast, to bombard Mayence and I must at last, capitulate if help comes not, &c.

&c."--"You may capitulate as much as you like," said Brasig, "it's nothing to me; but mind you hold your tongue about what I told you, remember your promise." Our old friend then went home, and besides the happy feeling of having done a good action, he had the pleasant consciousness of having surmounted a great difficulty with no little skill, for he felt not a little triumphant that he had been able to bring Louisa's name into the transaction.

Now when any one goes home after having accomplished a good deed of this kind and desires to sun himself in the remembrance of it, he thinks it very hard when instead of meeting with a kind reception, he comes in for a perfect storm of reproaches and scolding. It was so with Brasig when he entered the parlour where Mrs. Behrens and the little member were sitting. Louisa was not there. Mrs. Behrens was busy lighting the lamp, but the matches would not strike, partly because those Kurz sold were not of the best, and partly because Mrs.

Behrens--perhaps from a desire to be economical--was in the habit of putting any broken or headless match back into the box, thus giving a useless match twenty times the amount of enjoyment during its short life that a good one could have. But although it may have been a very pleasant life for the match, it generally succeeded in putting the human being who was trying to strike it into a rage. "There you are at last," cried Mrs. Behrens angrily as she endeavoured to strike a match.

"So you've really come home, have you?" trying a second. "You do nothing but gad about the town," another match, "but you always take care to go with your eyes shut"--two matches at once this time--"and your ears too"--another match--"and still you think you know all that's going on"--another match--"but when it comes to the point you know nothing"--three matches at once. Brasig always treated Mrs. Behrens courteously and showed himself willing to do anything in her service, so he now took the box from her, saying: "Allow me!" a match. "How do you mean?"--a second match--"Have I offended you in any way?"--a third--"Kurz may cover himself with these things without being in danger of catching fire!"--two matches at once. "Things that ought to catch with him, don't, and what oughtn't to catch, does,"--three matches--"These beastly things must have got inflorenza too!" So saying he flung the match box on the table and taking his own box of vesuvians out of his pocket, lighted the lamp. "Brasig," said Mrs. Behrens, as she carefully replaced all the matches that had been tried in the match-box, "I have a right to be annoyed with you. I am not curious, but when anything happens that concerns Hawermann and Louisa, I consider that as I am the nearest to them, I ought to be told. Why do you leave it to our little Anna to tell me what you ought to have told me long ago, for you knew all about it, I see in your face that you did."--"Why, what do you mean?" asked Brasig, pretending to look unconscious; but Mrs. Behrens was too indignant to listen to him, for she thought herself badly used, so she continued: "Now don't pretend, it's of no use. I know that you know all about it, and that you've been keeping me in the dark." Then she began to cross-question the old man, and Anna helped her to the best of her ability. So the two women cast their nets round Brasig and never let him alone, until they had got all he knew out of him, for keeping a secret was not one of his strong points. At last he exclaimed in despair: "I know no more, I a.s.sure you," but little roundabout Mrs. Behrens went up to him, and said: "I know you Brasig. I see it in your face. I see that you _do_ know something more. Out with it! What is it?"--"Why, Mrs. Behrens, it's a private matter altogether."--"That doesn't signify. Out with it!"

Brasig sidled about on his chair, looked to the right and left for help; but all in vain; he had to confess what he had done, so he said: "I wrote to Paris to tell Mr. Frank von Rambow what is going on; but Charles Hawermann must never know what I've done."--"You wrote to Paris," cried Mrs. Behrens, putting her arms akimbo, "to young Mr. von Rambow! And pray what did you write to him about? You've been writing about Louisa, I see that you have! You've told him what _I_ should have been afraid even to whisper to myself, that's what you've done," and hastening to the bell, she rang violently. "Sophie," she said to the servant, "run to the post-office and ask the post-master to be so good as to give you the letter that Mr. Brasig has just written to Paris."--"Tooteritoo!" was that instant heard under the window, and the mail cart dashed down the street, bearing Brasig's letter straight to Paris, and Mrs. Behrens, throwing herself back in the sofa corner, ordered Sophie to return to the kitchen. I am sorry to say that as soon as the maid had left the room, Mrs. Behrens began to murmur against Providence for having allowed the Rahnstadt mail to start--for the first time she had ever known it do so--at the right hour, on that day of all others, thus insuring the safe arrival of Brasig's nonsense in Paris. Brasig swore that he had conducted the affair with the greatest delicacy, and that no possible harm could come of the letter. "Did you write that she wished to be remembered to him?" asked Mrs. Behrens.

"No," answered Brasig, "I only told him that she was well."--"Did you say nothing more than that about her?"--"I only said that she had given me the sheet of paper on which I had written, and that she was a costly pearl of humanity."--"That she is," interrupted Mrs. Behrens. "And then I finished the letter in a very friendly way by asking Mr. Frank to come to our fraternity ball."--"That was very stupid of you," cried Mrs. Behrens, "he'll think you mean to try and arrange a meeting between him and Louisa."--"Mrs. Behrens," said Brasig drawing himself up, "your sentiments do you honour, but tell me, is it either stupid or wicked to try to bring two people together who have only been separated by the malice and evil-doing of others? I confess that such was my intention, and that that was the reason I wrote the letter. Hawermann couldn't do it, for he is Louisa's father and it would be unfitting for him to stir in the matter. You couldn't do it because the good people of Rahnstadt would call you all manner of pretty names if you did; indeed they have done so already. But as for me, I don't care a pin if they dub me letter carrier. I never trouble my head about such things.

I've just sent off a letter to Paris, and if he, to whom I sent it, looks upon me as a man of honour and a true friend to Charles Hawermann and Louisa, I don't care whether the Rahnstadters nickname me 'go between' or not."--"Yes, Mrs. Behrens, yes," cried Anna throwing her arms round the old lady's neck, "Mr. Brasig is right. What does Rahnstadt gossip matter? Who cares for the silly prejudices of the world as long as one can make two people happy? Frank must come, and Louisa must be happy," and then running up to Brasig, she put her arms round his neck and kissed him in order to show how she rejoiced in what he had done, saying: "You're a dear old uncle Brasig, that's what you are." Brasig returned her kiss, and answered: "And you're a dear little musical girl, a sweet little lark. You must also be happy in the same way as Louisa. But stop. We mustn't count our chickens before they're hatched. We can't see our way clearly yet. The scoundrels hav'n't confessed their crime, and I know Charles Hawermann well enough to be sure that he must be quite free from suspicion before he will give his consent. That's the reason I wanted to keep the whole affair secret from him and Louisa for fear of making them uneasy. It's by G.o.d's providence that Kurz is laid up with inflorenza, otherwise he would never have held his tongue."--"Well, Brasig," said Mrs. Behrens, "Taking it all in all, I believe that you've done right."--"Yes, hav'n't I, Mrs. Behrens, and wer'n't you only displeased with me because you wished that you had done it yourself? I'm sure that that's it, and so you shall have the honour of writing to Mr. Frank when everything is known."

Three days after this conversation when Brasig came home he met Mrs.

Behrens in the front hall. Her right hand was in a sling for she had sprained her wrist the day before by falling on the stairs leading to the cellar. He said with great seriousness and very impressively: "I'm coming down stairs again immediately, Mrs. Behrens; I've got something particular to say to you." After which, he went up to Hawermann. When he entered his friend's room he neither said: "Good day," nor anything else, but went in with a solemnity that was unusual to him, and walking right through the sitting room, went into the bed-room beyond. He got a gla.s.s of cold water and giving it to Hawermann, said: "There, Charles, drink that."--"But, why?"--"Because it'll do you good. You'll find it necessary afterwards, so it can do you no harm now."--"What's the matter, Brasig," cried Hawermann, pushing away the water. He saw that something had happened which was of interest to him. "Well, Charles, if you won't, you won't; but prepare yourself to hear what will surprise you, prepare." He then began to walk up and down the room, and Hawermann, who had turned very pale, watched him anxiously, for he felt from Brasig's manner that his fate was now to be decided. "Charles,"

asked Brasig, standing before him, "are you ready?" Yes, he was quite ready; he rose and said entreatingly: "Tell me at once, Brasig; I can go on bearing what I've borne so long already."--"I don't mean that,"

answered Brasig, "The murder's out! The rogues have confessed, and we've got the money, part of it at least." The old man had prepared himself to hear the bad news he feared was coming bravely, the destruction of the hope he had allowed to grow in his heart during the last few days, but when a new day of joy and certainty broke for him thus suddenly, his eyes were blinded by the unaccustomed brightness, and he fell back in his chair: "Brasig, Brasig," he gasped, "my honest name! My Louisa's happiness!" His friend offered him the gla.s.s of water, and when he had drunk some of it, he felt better, and clasping Brasig, who was standing before him, round the knees, asked: "Zachariah, you have not deceived me?"--"No, Charles, it's the truth, and you'll find it in the indictment. The mayor says that the wretches are to be sent to Dreibergen, but they'll have to go to Butzow for their trial."--"Brasig," said Hawermann, rising and going to his bedroom, "leave me alone for a little, and say nothing to Louisa.--Oh, please, tell her to come to me."--"Yes, Charles," said Brasig going to the window, and staring out as he wiped the tears from his eyes. When he went out of the room, he could see Charles on his knees beside his bed.

Louisa went upstairs to her father; Brasig told her nothing more.

But in Mrs. Behrens' parlour the matter did not go off so silently.--"Good gracious!" cried the good little woman, "there's Louisa gone now, and Hawermann hasn't come down yet, and as for you, Brasig, you're never in time. The dinner will be spoilt and we have such a nice bit of fish. What was it you wanted to say to me, Brasig?"--"Oh nothing," he answered, looking as mischievous as if the rogues he had seen that morning had infected him with their evil ways, "only Hawermann and Louisa aren't coming to dinner. So we'd better begin."--"But, Brasig, why ar'n't they coming?"--"Because of the ap.r.o.n."--"The ap.r.o.n?"--"Yes, because it was wet."--"What ap.r.o.n was wet?"--"Dame Kahlert's. But we must begin, Mrs. Behrens, the fish will be cold."--"Not a bit of it!" cried Mrs. Behrens, putting a couple of plates over it, and then a table napkin, and lastly her own two round little hands. She looked at Brasig with such round frightened eyes that he could not bear to tease her any longer, and said: "It has all come out, Mrs. Behrens. They have confessed, and we've got back the greater part of the money."--"And you never told me before," she exclaimed, trotting off in search of Hawermann.--Brasig stopped her, and bribed her to sit down quietly on the sofa, by promising to tell her the whole story from beginning to end. "Well, Mrs. Behrens," he said, "you must know that widow Kahlert's evidence was the most damaging of the lot, and that it was all through her wicked jealousy that we got anything out of her at all. Jealousy is a terribly common failing in women, and it often leads to the most dreadful consequences. I'm not alluding to you remember, only to Mrs. Kahlert. You see the woman had made up her mind to marry the weaver, and he wouldn't hear of it. She then came to the correct conclusion, that the reason he wouldn't marry her after all, was because of the influence of his divorced wife, and so she watched everything her rival did, and that was how when her ap.r.o.n--I mean widow Kahlert's--was wet one day, she took it out to the hedge in the garden to dry. While she was spreading it out to dry, she saw from her hiding-place the weaver and his former wife holding a _randy-voo_--you know what that is, Mrs. Behrens."--"Now, Brasig, I tell you that ...."--"Don't be afraid, Mrs. Behrens. They were not sitting in a ditch, but were standing up behind a row of scarlet-runners. The woman must have climbed over the hedge from the other side in order to get into the garden without going through the house. The widow was so malicious in her jealousy, that she called Mrs.

Kruger, the butcher's wife, to come and see what was going on. They watched the two vanish behind the bean stalks, and then saw the woman get over the hedge, and the weaver going up the garden path, whereupon they both left their hiding-place. Mrs. Kruger swore to the truth of this. The mayor told me that if we could only get widow Kahlert to begin to talk we'd soon get to know more. So I said: 'Female jealousy, your worship.'--'But how can we make use of that?' he asked.--Then I said: 'Mr. Mayor,' I said, 'I understand that sort of thing from my old experience when I had three sweethearts at once. Jealousy is a frightful thing, it knows neither mercy nor compa.s.sion. Let me see what I can do.' When dame Kahlert came in again I said quietly: 'Well, if it's illegal for Schmidt to marry any other woman, there's nothing to prevent his remarrying his former wife.'--The mayor understood my lead, and answered: 'Yes, he may do that if he likes; the Consistory cannot make any objection.' The widow immediately got into a state of desperation, and shrieked out: If that was the case she would tell everything. The weaver had got some money out in the garden, for although he hadn't had a farthing in his desk that morning, yet when she looked there afterwards she found a number of double Louis d'ors.

You see she had done for herself by this confession, for she had acknowledged that she had a false key to open other people's desks. So the mayor sent her off to prison. We had the three canaries safe in our hands now. When the weaver was brought before us again he lied about the way he got the money, and he lied in Mrs. Kruger's face by declaring that his wife had not been with him in the garden. Mrs.