"No, Herr Starr, I cannot just now; we must soon go to supper, and we can sing a duett afterwards. Look through this music in the mean time."

This allusion to supper, and the resolution he had formed to enjoy life again, seemed to awaken a good appet.i.te in Lenz, and he forthwith determined to go to the "Golden Lion;" so he went towards the village with a quick and firm step.

"Oh, Lenz, good evening! How good of you to think of your friends, even in your sorrow!" said the landlady. "I mentioned your name only a few minutes since, and if you had been here today, you would have heard that all those who have been going in and out during the day, were talking of you. I am sure your cheeks must have been burning! Yes, my good Lenz, you will meet with your reward even in this world, for your admirable conduct to your excellent mother. And you know that your mother and I were always the best of friends; though it is true we did not see much of each other, for she disliked leaving her own house, and so did I. Will you have a pint of new wine or old? I advise the new, for it is particularly good and not so heating. You look red and flushed: to be sure, after losing such a mother, it is but natural. I don't say it is not, but----;" and the good woman waved her hand, as if emotion choked her voice.

At last, after placing the gla.s.s and bottle on the table, she resumed:--"What can we do?--we are all mortal. Your mother was seventy five years old--a full sheaf of years, indeed; and very possibly I may be called away tomorrow in my turn, just like your mother. With G.o.d's help, I, too, will leave a good name to my children. No one, indeed, can be compared with your mother. But may I give you a piece of advice?--I mean it well, believe me."

"Yes, yes--I am always glad to get good advice."

"I only wished to say, that I know you are tender hearted, but you must not allow yourself to be overwhelmed with grief. You don't take this amiss, I hope?"

"Certainly not. What is there that I could take amiss in it? On the contrary, I did not know till now, how many true friends my mother had, and that they intend to continue their friendship to her son."

"Oh! you deserve this for your own sake, for you are----"

"Good day to you, Lenz!"

The landlady's flattering speech was cut short suddenly by a clear young voice, and a pretty, plump hand was offered to him, and the face corresponded with the hand. It was Annele, who brought a lamp into the room, which lighted it up brightly; and, turning to the landlady, she said--"Mother, why did not you let me know that Lenz was here?"

"Surely, I may talk to a young man in the twilight just as well as you," answered the mother, with a significant smile.

The jest did not seem to please Lenz: and Annele went on to say--"My good Lenz, you should have seen how I cried both yesterday and to-day about your mother. I am still trembling in every limb. Such persons should not die; and when we think that she is no longer here to go on doing good, it is truly heart breaking. I can just imagine you in your own home. You look into every corner--you feel as if the door must open; it cannot be--she could not be so cruel--she cannot be gone for ever--she must come in soon. Good heavens, Lenz! all day long I said to myself--Poor dear Lenz! if I could only bear part of his burden, I would so gladly take a share of it. You were expected here without fail this forenoon to dinner. Your uncle expected you; and, though he is usually so particular as to dinner being served as the clock strikes, he said to-day--'Wait a bit, Annele--put off dinner a few minutes, Lenz is certain to come--surely he won't remain all alone at home.' And Pilgrim too made sure that you would go to him, and dine with him. You know Pilgrim is always with us, and just like a brother to me. In him you have, indeed, a good and true friend. Your uncle had a small table all to himself, and he made me sit down beside him, and talk to him. He is a man who likes his joke, but as clever as Old Nick himself. Well, remember that you must dine here tomorrow. What do you like best?"

"I have no great appet.i.te for anything. I should like best of all, to be able to sleep for seven whole days--to sleep on and on continually, and know nothing of myself all the time."

"You will feel differently by and by.--I am coming in a moment!" said Annele, to some waggoners who had just seated themselves at another table. She brought them their dinner, and then returned to stand behind Lenz; and while she answered the other guests, she continued to hold her hand on the back of Lenz's chair, which gave him a strange sensation, as if a stream of electricity penetrated his whole frame.

Now, however, seeing others eat, reminded him of his own hunger; and Annele went off to the kitchen and back again like a flash of lightning, and covered the table with a fine white cloth, and placed the dishes so neatly on the table, and said so heartily, "May G.o.d bless your meal!" that Lenz could not fail to enjoy his dinner.

Certainly few girls can be so active and neat as Annele. It is a pity that she is so addicted to making fools of her admirers: she is so quick in repartee, and has a surprising knack of introducing any subject she likes, and carrying on a conversation in a lively manner.

Lenz had finished his first pint of wine, and Annele quickly placed another before him, and poured it into his gla.s.s.

"I believe you don't smoke?" said she.

"I do smoke sometimes, but I don't care much about it,"

"I will bring you one of my father's cigars--our guests never get them." She brought a cigar and a match, and held a light for Lenz.

At this moment the landlord of the "Lion" came in--a tall, stout, ma.s.sive figure, most respectable in appearance; for he had thin snow white hair and a small black velvet cap on his head, just like a clergyman: moreover, he wore silver spectacles with large round gla.s.ses; he used his spectacles only for reading, so they were usually pushed back on his forehead. Placidity and benevolence seemed impressed on his brow: he was, moreover, calm and sedate, and majestically self possessed, and was considered by his neighbours a very shrewd, sensible man. To be sure he said very little, but a man must have a good deal of intelligence who had prospered like the landlord of the "Lion." His face was rather red, and inspired considerable deference; his mouth alone, which usually looked as if he were eating something good, was not so awe inspiring as the rest of his appearance. He was a serious and silent man, as if he wished, by his silence, to counterbalance the incessant tongue of his wife, and, indeed, sometimes that of his daughter likewise. When his wife talked too much, or with levity, he occasionally shook his head gravely, as much as to say, "A man with my principles cannot approve of that;" and the landlord was a man of strict principles: this was known far and wide; and he was the best in his trade, which was that of what is here called a Packer--he bought clocks from the clockmakers, and sent them to all parts of the world.

"Good evening, Lenz!" said the landlord, in a sonorous voice, as if in these few words a vast deal was included; and when Lenz respectfully rose he gave him his hand, and said, "Don't rise or be on ceremony, remember you are in an inn." Then he nodded, as much as to say--"I have a high respect for you, and you are as sure of all proper condolence on my part, as if you held a threefold security for it." Then he went to his table and read the newspapers. Annele fetched her knitting, and seated herself beside Lenz, saying, politely--"With your permission!"

She spoke much and cleverly, and was thought as good as she was clever.

She seems both, and no one knows better how to make her game. When Lenz at last paid his score, she said: "I must say it vexes me to receive your money, I would far rather that you had considered yourself our guest. Now, good night! and don't grieve your heart out. I only wish I could comfort you. By the bye, I had almost forgotten to ask you when your great musical clock--which is supposed to be the finest that was ever made in this country--goes to Russia?"

"I may receive a letter any day, desiring it to be sent off."

"Will you let my mother and me come up to see it and hear it before it goes?"

"I shall be highly honoured. Pray come whenever you choose."

"Now, good night! sleep sound, and remember me to Franzl, and tell her that if she wants anything, she is to come to us for it."

"Thank you very much--I won't fail to tell her."

It was a good quarter of an hour's walk to Lenz's house, and a steep hill all the way. Today he was soon at home, however. He did not know why, but when he was once more alone in his room, he became very sorrowful. He gazed long out into the summer night--he did not know what he was thinking about. Here nothing is seen or heard of the world of human beings; the only object visible in the distance, on a far away hill, is a solitary cottage, where a blacksmith lives--a light sparkles up through the windows, but soon disappears. Those men who have no grief in their hearts can sleep.

Not far from the house of the smith, a sawmill is heard through the stillness of the night, busily revolving from a current of air. The stars are shining brightly over the dark line of the forest, and on the spot where the moon has gone down behind the hills, a pale blue halo is visible, and the fleecy clouds in the sky are gently illuminated.

Lenz supported his burning forehead on his hands: his pulses were beating--the world seems going round with him. No doubt the new wine is the cause of these sensations. "I ought not to have drunk wine at night. What a clever, good girl Annele is! Don't be a fool--What is she to you?--'Good night!--Sleep sound.'" He repeated her words gently, and indeed he did sleep soundly all night.

CHAPTER IX.

A PARLEY WITH FRIENDS.

The journeymen and the apprentice, whom Lenz had sent home to their parents during his domestic troubles, were already busy in the workshop when Lenz awoke in the morning. It had never before happened that they were before their master at their work. Indeed, when Lenz opened the window the sun was already high in the heavens, and five or six clocks that were in the room, struck seven at the same moment. It seemed to Lenz as if his wish had been fulfilled, that he might sleep for a whole week. Between yesterday and today, weeks indeed seemed to have pa.s.sed.

The time appeared so long to Lenz, because such unwonted feelings had entered his heart.

Franzl brought him his breakfast, sat down uninvited beside him, and asked, "What shall I dress for your dinner today?"

"For me? Nothing. I don't intend to dine at home. Get what you like for yourself. Only think, Franzl, that kind Pilgrim----"

"Yes; he was here yesterday," interrupted Franzl, "and waited for you a long time."

"Did he? and I was at his house. What do you think, Franzl? the kindhearted fellow painted a portrait of my mother yesterday, secretly; you will be surprised to see how like life she looks: one might almost fancy she must begin to speak."

"I knew that he was doing it, for he made me send him, privately, your mother's Sunday jacket, and cap, and neckhandkerchief. You have locked up her string of garnets with other things, of which I know nothing. It is no affair of mine: I have no wish to know everything; but when I do know a thing, and it is to be kept secret, you might cut me in two, and I would not say a syllable. Has any one ferreted out of me that I knew what Pilgrim was doing? Did I say a single word to you to account for his not coming here? You may entrust me with anything."

As, however, Lenz did not entrust her with anything, she asked: "Where are you going today? and where were you last night?"

Lenz looked at her with surprise, and made no answer.

"Probably you were with your uncle Petrowitsch?" continued Franzl.

Lenz shook his head, but vouchsafed no other reply, and Franzl smoothed their mutual difficulty by saying: "I have no more time to spare; I must go to the garden to cut beans for our dinner. I have engaged a charwoman to help me a little; for we must collect our potatoes to-day.

You approve of this, don't you?"

"Yes, yes--do everything just as you think best."

Lenz went to his workshop, but his head today seemed in considerable confusion. He could not please himself in the choice of his tools, and he even threw aside, pettishly, his father's file, which he had hitherto considered such a treasure.

The great clock played the music of the "Magic Flute."

"Who set these works again in motion?" asked Lenz quickly, in surprise.

"I did," said the apprentice.