"G.o.d bless me!" cried the Frau Pastorin, "that is Fritz's trunk. You will see, Pastor, my brother-in-law is so inconsiderate, he has let the boy come on horseback again. n.o.body ought to ride that wild horse, Habermann."

"Oh, don't be troubled, Frau Pastorin," said Habermann, laughing a little, "the horse is not so bad----"

"Ah, Habermann, but I saw him before, when he first came to Pumpelhagen; the creature would not stir a step."

"Frau Pastorin," said Brasig, "it is not so bad if a beast is balky as when the rascal takes to running; then the Latin riders used to fall off."

But the little Frau Pastorin could not rest; she opened the window, and asked the man who had driven the cart whether Fritz was riding, and was the horse very vicious?

"Like a lamb," was the reply. "If he does nothing to the horse, the horse will do nothing to him. He will be here directly."

That was comforting, so the Frau Pastorin seated herself again on the sofa, saying, with a sigh,--

"My poor sister! I tremble for her, whenever I set eyes on the boy. He plays too many stupid jokes."

"He will be up to something of the sort, now?" said Brasig.

Brasig was right. In the time between Christmas and New Year's Fritz had accomplished a great deal of folly, all the time in his wonderful inspector suit; for, though the weather had been cold and disagreeable, he had worn the green hunting-jacket, white leather breeches, and yellow top-boots, not merely in the day-time, but occasionally through the night. Once, at least, after he had come home late from a lively company of young farmers, the maid-servant found him next morning lying in bed in his boots and spurs. He had met an old friend that evening, Gust Prebberow by name, who went round half the year in yellow top-boots, and the pleasure of seeing him, together with the lively, agricultural conversation, had been a little too much for Fritz. Gust Prebberow had given him all sorts of useful advice, how to manage "the old man," as he called Habermann, and to pull the wool over his eyes, and had told incidents from his own experience in the management of farm-boys; and, after discussing these branches of agriculture, they came to the subject of horses. Fritz related his adventures with the old chestnut, who was naturally a very gifted horse, and good-natured, for the most part, but like his own father the apothecary, old Chestnut had always been suspicious of him, and on the look-out for mischief. He had evidently made up his mind that Fritz knew nothing about the management of horses, although Fritz had made repeated efforts to bring him to a better way of thinking. His greatest fault was that he positively would not stir a step farther than he pleased, neither kicks nor kindness, whipping nor spurring, could alter this determination when once he had taken it into his stupid head.

"And do you allow that?" said Gust Prebberow. "Now, brother, I will tell you what to do. See, next time you mount him, take a good sized earthen pot full of water, and ride gently along just as usual, till you come to the place where he balks, and then give it to him with the spurs in the ribs, and break the pot over his head,--all at once!--so that the fragments of the pot will clatter down, and the water will run into his eyes."

Fritz paid close attention to this advice, and when he started to-day in his smart inspector suit, he took the bridle in his left hand, the riding-whip under his left arm, and in his right hand a great jar full of water. He could not ride fast, without spilling the water, and old Chestnut had no desire to run away, so they jogged along very peaceably until they reached Rexow farm.

Here Fritz wished to ride up to the house in a brisk trot, so he drove the spurs into old Chestnut's ribs, but Chestnut, having a bad disposition and still bearing Fritz malice, on account of his adventure in the Pastor's mud-puddle, all of a sudden stood still. Now was the time. A stroke of the whip behind, spurs in his ribs, and crash! the pot between his ears. "Uff!" grunted Chestnut, shaking his head, in token that he would not stir a step, but the blow must have stunned him a little, for he lay down directly. Fritz went too, of course, and though he had sense enough to fall clear of the horse, he could not prevent himself from lying at his side.

The company in Frau Nussler's parlor had witnessed the scene, and at first the little Frau Pastorin had lamented her poor sister's misfortune, but as she observed old Chestnut's quiet behaviour, and saw Fritz safely landed upon the soft and somewhat cold "bed of honor,"

which the rain and dew of heaven and Jochen Nussler's dung-heap had prepared for him, she was compelled to join in the general laughter, and said to her Pastor, "It is good enough for him!"

"Yes," said Brasig, "and if he takes cold, it won't hurt him. What business has he to behave so with that old creature!"

Fritz now approached, looking on one side like a plough-boy, black and muddy, on the other still smart and shining.

"You are a dainty sight, my son," cried the Frau Pastorin, from the open window. "Don't come in here like that! Fortunately, your trunk has arrived, and you can change your clothes."

He followed her advice, and entered the room, before long, in his most distinguished apparel, a blue dress-coat and long black trousers, like a young proprietor, but in great vexation, which Brasig's jokes and his aunt's observations did not tend to diminish. Franz, on the contrary, was in the most cheerful temper. He joked to his heart's content with the three little girls, and looked at their Christmas gifts, laughing himself half dead as the little twins finally dragged forward a great foot-sack, which Uncle Brasig had given them, "that the little rogues might keep their toes warm, and not get the cursed Podagra." Franz had never in his life enjoyed opportunities of intercourse with little girls younger than himself, and this confidential chatter and contented mirthfulness, making merry over things which in his eyes seemed nothing at all, made such an impression upon him, that when they sat down to supper, he kept among the little folks, decidedly refusing the pressing invitations of Frau Nussler, who wished him, as a n.o.bleman, to take a higher place.

That was a joyous evening meal; talk went briskly back and forth, every one taking his share except Fritz and Jochen. Fritz could not get over his annoyance, and was vexed that he could not enjoy himself as Franz was doing. Jochen said nothing to be sure, but he laughed continually; if Brasig merely opened his mouth, Jochen stretched his from ear to ear, and when the punch was brought in, and Lining, as the most judicious of the little ones, undertook the task of serving it out, he found a voice, and endeavored to discharge his duties as host, saying now and then very quietly, "Lining, help Brasig!"

The punch helped Fritz, also, to the use of his tongue. He was still in ill-humor, especially at Franz's undignified behavior. The little girls had hitherto seemed to him very small fry, but if one talked to them at all, one should employ a higher style of conversation. Accordingly he took up the _role_ which he had played at the Rahnstadt ball, when he had danced with the burgomeister's daughter, aged twenty-seven, and addressed Louise as "Fraulein Habermann." The child looked at him in astonishment, and as he again uttered his "Fraulein," she laughed innocently in his face: "I am no Fraulein, I am only Louise Habermann,"--and Franz could not help laughing also.

That was annoying for Fritz, but he knew what was proper, and how one should converse with ladies; he refused to be snubbed, and went on relating his experiences at the ball, what he said to the burgomeister's daughter, and what she had said to him, "fraulein" ing also the little twins, right and left. And as this caused a great t.i.ttering and giggling among the little folks, he naturally talked louder and louder, in order to be heard, till at last the whole company were looking at him in silence. Jochen, who sat next him, had turned round and stared at him, as if to see how it were possible that one human being could talk so much. Brasig looked over Jochen's shoulder with an uncommonly happy face, rejoicing at his own knowledge of human nature, and nodding now and then to Habermann, as if to say, "You see, Karl, didn't I say so? A good-for-nothing puppy!"

Habermann, annoyed, looked down at his plate, Frau Nussler was in great perplexity to know what she ought to do as hostess, in such an emergency, the Pastor gently shook his head back and forth; but the most excited of all was the little Frau Pastorin. She bent down her head till the cap-strings rustled under her chin, and moved uneasily on her chair, as if the place were too hot for her, and as Fritz finally attempted to give a visible ill.u.s.tration of the schottische, how the gentleman embraced the lady, she could no longer contain herself. She sprang up and cried, "All keep still! As his aunt, I am the nearest to him! Fritz, come here directly!" And as he slowly rose, and very coolly and politely walked round to her, she took hold of his coat and pulled him along: "My dearest boy, come out here a moment!" With that, she drew him out of the door. The company inside heard fragments of a short sermon, which was interrupted by no reply, and then the door opened and the Frau Pastorin led Fritz back again, and, pointing to his place, said, "Now sit down quietly, and behave like a reasonable being."

Fritz followed her advice, that is to say the first part of it; the second was not so easy, and ought not to have been expected. After fashionable talk, reasonable talk seemed to him very tame, and why should he spoil a good beginning by a bad ending?

As Franz and the little girls gradually resumed their lively chatter, and the older people travelled on in the country road of reasonable talk, with a jolt now and then, when Brasig drove against a stone, Fritz sat and grumbled to himself, feeding his anger with punch, which served as oil to the flame, and inwardly called Franz "a crafty rascal," and the little girls, "foolish children," who understood nothing of polite conversation.

In spite of this, and of the contempt which he felt for such childish intercourse, his anger was mingled with a little jealousy at not being himself "c.o.c.k of the walk," and as he perceived that Franz seemed most taken with Louise Habermann, he vowed secretly that _that_ should come to an end; he himself, Fritz Triddelsitz, would see what he could do, provided, that is, that his aunt would keep out of the way.

By this time it was growing late, but no one thought how late it was, until suddenly a strange figure appeared in the room, wrapped from top to toe in all sorts of warm garments, and he blew a horn, which was fearful to hear, and then began to sing, which was more fearful still. It was Gust Stowsand, who was not more than half-witted, and, because he was fit for nothing else, Jochen Nussler had made him night-watchman. And the boys and girls looked in at the door, to see how Just would manage his business, and they laughed, and pushed and pulled one another back and forth. Then congratulations began, and all wished each other "Happy New Year!" and after all was quiet again, the Herr Pastor made a little speech, which began quite playfully but ended seriously, how with every year one came a step nearer to the grave, and one must comfort oneself by this, that with every year new knots were tied, and friendship and love bound more closely together. As he finished his good words, he looked around the circle; the little Frau Pastorin had slipped her arm in his, Jochen stood by his wife, Habermann and Brasig held each other by the hand, the two little twin-apples had their arms around each other, and Franz stood by Louise Habermann. Fritz was nowhere to be seen, he had gone off in his vexation.

So ended the year 1839.

CHAPTER VIII.

When Easter came, Brasig set out for the water-cure, and the Kammerrath arrived at Pumpelhagen, with his three daughters, Albertine, Bertha, and Fidelia.

"He will never go away again, he is near his end," said Habermann to himself, and Franz thought the same, and they spoke sadly of it to each other as they sat together the evening after his arrival. Franz naturally took his meals after this with his uncle and cousins, and Habermann found himself very lonely in the old farm-house, he had become so accustomed to the young man's society, and found it so pleasant.

During the first week the Kammerrath had a visitor. Pomuchelskopp came, in his blue dress-coat with bright b.u.t.tons, and in his new coach, which was rendered more splendid than ever, since it was adorned with a coat of arms, which he had ordered from Vienna for half a louis-d'or. It represented a haddock's head (Dorsch Kopp) on a blue field (Fell), which the stupid laborers, who understood nothing about haddocks and blue fields called "a block head (das Kopp) in a blue coat" (Fell); having possibly discerned a personal resemblance between the escutcheon and their master.

He had given up the idea of intercourse with Brasig's Herr Count, and no other families of n.o.bility lived in the neighborhood, so he found the Kammerrath's arrival quite apropos. But the man was unfortunate. As he made known his errand to Daniel Sadenwater, the Kammerrath's old servant, in a melancholy tone--that he felt constrained to make personal inquiries after the Herr Kammerrath, and added that he had known the Herr Kammerrath very well at Rostock,--old Daniel went off with a peaceful face to announce him, but came back with a face quite as placid to say that the Herr Kammerrath regretted he was not in a state of health to receive callers. That was truly vexatious for Pomuchelskopp, and he sat all the afternoon sulking in the sofa-corner, and his dear wife, who always became so cheerful and affectionate on such occasions, called him "Poking" incessantly, which certainly should have amply compensated for his disappointment.

The Kammerrath, in his illness, felt the need of no other society than he found at home. His two oldest daughters thought of nothing else from morning to night but to amuse and comfort him, and the youngest, who was the pet child of the whole family, and who continued a little too young to suit her elder sisters, and perhaps prided herself a little upon her childlike joyousness, sought for means to enliven him. Franz, in the kindness of his heart, had a.s.sumed the office of secretary to his uncle, and took upon himself all the little annoying cares, which are not wanting in a household where sickness has entered; but the Kammerrath took especial pleasure in the society of Habermann, and consulted him not only about farming matters, but in all his affairs and perplexities.

Habermann had little time, now, to visit at the parsonage, and if Louise wished to speak to her father, she must seek him in the fields, or at noon in the farm-house. So it happened that she often came in the way of the Fraulein Fidelia, and as it is an old story that young girls who are growing to be rather old girls, hovering on the line between youth and age, always incline to the youthful side, and enjoy the society of those younger than themselves, it was quite natural that Fraulein Fidelia should take a great fancy to Louise, and in a little while they were the closest friends.

It is generally a good thing for a young girl to have such a friend, older than herself, but I would not say it is always so. It depends greatly upon the circ.u.mstances of the older lady. Louise took no harm from the intimacy, for Fraulein Fidelia was very kind-hearted; she was also a little tired of the frivolity and ceremony of high society, and when her blessed mama--the gracious old lady, as Daniel Sadenwater called her,--had endeavored to make her more ceremonious and dignified, the Kammerrath had always taken his darling's part. He was a little to blame for her childishness; she had always frolicked with him, from her babyhood, and had laughed away his cares and troubles, and she kept on doing so from force of habit.

She spoke of this daily task of amusing her father in such a manner that Louise thought of nothing but how to comfort and a.s.sist her; and what might have been dangerous under different circ.u.mstances became now rather a preventive of contagion. Louise had too much good sense to look among Fraulein Fidelia's little fripperies of behavior for manners suitable to herself. But she not only received benefit, she gave it. If Louise had little knowledge of the world of fashion, Fraulein Fidelia had as little of the world in which she lived and moved--and there Louise could give the best instruction.

But a vexatious thing was first to occur, which gave Fraulein Fidelia great annoyance. It happened in this way. The Kammerrath had sent to Schwerin for a beautiful dress, for her birth-day present, Fraulein Albertine had given her a new summer hat, and Fraulein Bertha, a pretty shawl, and when the presentation was over, the two elder sisters had arrayed their pet in the new finery, and stood looking at her right and left, admiring her fine appearance, and Fraulein Bertha exclaimed, "She is a little fairy!" (fee).

Corlin Kegels, one of the maids, was going through the room at the moment, and had nothing better to do than to say in the kitchen: "What do you think, girls? Fraulein Bertha says that our little Fraulein looks like a little cow (vieh)." The joke took, and Fraulein Fidelia was soon known among the servants only as "the little cow." Of course it must come to her ears, sooner or later, and then there was a great uproar and a great investigation, and Corlin Kegels, in spite of her weeping and begging, was turned out of doors. Louise came in just then, and met Corlin crying on the door-steps, and found Fraulein Fidelia crying in the parlor. One word led to another, and when Louise knew the whole affair, she said, placing her hands compa.s.sionately on the Fraulein's shoulders, "Ah, the poor things didn't mean any harm."

"Yes, indeed they did," cried the Fraulein, hastily. "The rough, unmannerly common people!"

"No, no! Don't say that!" exclaimed Louise, really distressed. "Our people are not rough; they have as much feeling as distinguished people. My father says one must learn to know them, and that is not so easy, their language separates them from their masters."

"Very likely," said Fidelia. "I call 'little cow' a rough, coa.r.s.e expression."

"It was a misunderstanding," said Louise. "The word 'fee' is unknown to them, and this sounds like it, and seemed comical to them. They had no idea of offending you. Dear Fraulein, you are the idol of all your servants."

This last sugar-plum, which Louise administered with no thought of flattery, pacified the Fraulein, and at last, in the kindness of her heart, she resolved upon a nearer acquaintance with her people, and Corlin Kegels was taken again into favor.

The Fraulein made inquires of Franz, and he praised the Pumpelhagen people highly, the Kammerrath, also, gave them a good character, and said that their ancestors had lived on the estate since the memory of man. "The first Herr von Rambow of whom we have intelligence," said he, "bad two servants, one of whom was called 'Asel' and the other 'Egel.'

These had many namesakes, and in time a great confusion arose among the different 'Egels' and 'Asels.' One Egel would take home the bushel of wheat, which another Egel should have had, and one Asel would get the load of hay which properly belonged to another. This confusion had reached such a point under one of my forefathers, who--I am sorry for the family to confess--had a very short memory, that the Frau von Rambow, who was a good deal quicker-witted than her husband, undertook to remedy matters. She had an idea, and as she had the rule she could carry it out. All the fathers of families in the village were called together, One Sunday morning, and every one must tell his christened name and his father's name, and she wrote them down,--for she knew how to write,--and then took the first letter of the christened name, and the father's name together, and baptized the whole village. So 'Karl Egel' became 'Kegel,' and 'Pagel Egel' 'Pegel' and 'Florian Egel'

'Flegel,' and 'Vullrad Asel' was changed to 'Vasel,' and 'Peter Asel'

to 'Pasel,' and 'David Asel' to 'Dasel,' and so on. And, it is a thing to be noted, the old story said the ancestor of the Egels was a flax-head, and that of the Asels a black-head, and so it is among their namesakes to this day. And the resemblance was not merely external, they inherited mental peculiarities as well; for the first Egel was greatly skilled in cutting spoons and ladles, and making rakes and wooden shoes, while the first Asel was an uncommonly fine singer, and the gifts have remained in the families,--the night-watchmen have always been chosen from the Asels, and the wheelwrights from the Egels; you know at this day, Fidelia, David Dasel is the watchman, and Fritz Flegel is the wheelwright."

Fraulein Fidelia was excessively pleased with this story, and in her restless and frolicsome humor she ran about to all the laborer's cottages, chatting with the housewives by the hour, and keeping them from their work, and bestowing cast-off finery upon the children. If Louise Habermann had not been with her, she would have given Pasel's eleven-year-old Marie a riding-hat with feathers and veil, and Dasel's Stina, who watched the goslings in the duck-pond, would have got a gorgeous pair of light blue satin slippers. The old fathers of the village shook their heads over such doings; but the old mothers defended her, saying that if she were not so sensible as she might be, yet she meant well; and instead of calling her merely "little cow," as before, they called her "a nice good, pretty little cow."

Pastor Behrens shook his head, also, when he heard of this new sort of beneficence. The Pumpelhagen people were the best in his parish, he said, and they had good reason to be, in having such a good old master, the Gurlitz people had suffered greatly from the change of proprietors; but nothing was so bad for people as indiscriminate and unmerited beneficence,--he must talk to the Fraulein about it.