He did so at the next opportunity; he told her that the Pumpelhagen people were so situated that unless in case of sickness, or the death of a cow, or some other misfortune, an industrious fellow and a tidy housewife could take care of themselves, and that unnecessary favors only taught them to look too much to others for a.s.sistance. These people must go their own, free way, just like others and one must be careful of intruding into their concerns, even to benefit them.

I am glad to say that Fraulein Fidelia saw the justice of these remarks, and limited her benefactions in future to the people who could no longer help themselves, to the old and the sick, and for these she was changed from a little "vieh" to a little "fee." Louise helped her in these Good-Samaritan labors, and as Franz now and then met them in the cottages, he saw to his surprise that the little maiden had a good deal of experience, and was both wise and skilful in action, and that the lovely eyes rested with as much sweetness and compa.s.sion upon a poor old sick laborer's wife, as upon him, that Christmas eve. He rejoiced at this, without rightly knowing why.

The spring was over, summer had come, and one Sunday morning Habermann received a letter from Brasig, at Warnitz, saying that he must stay at home that day; Brasig had returned from the water-cure and was coming to see him in the afternoon. So it happened; Brasig came on horseback, and dismounted with a spring, as if he would send both feet through the causeway.

"Ho, ho!" cried Habermann. "How active you are, you are as quick as a bird!"

"Freshly sharpened, Karl! I have made a new beginning."

"Well, old fellow, how did it go?" asked Habermann, when they were established on the sofa, and had started their pipes.

"Listen, Karl! Damp, cold, soaking wet, that is only the beginning.

They make a man into a frog, and before human nature changes to frog-nature a man suffers so much that he wishes he had come into the world as a frog, to begin with; but it is good, for all that. You see, the first thing in the morning is generally sweating. They wrap you up in cold, wet cloths, and then in woolen blankets, so tightly that you can move nothing but your toes. After that they take you into a bathing room, ringing a bell to keep the ladies away, and then they put you into a bathing-tub, and pour three pailfuls of water over your bald head, if you happen to have one, and then you may go where you please.

Do you think that is the end? You may think so, but it is only the beginning; but it is good, for all that.

"Well, then you go walking, for exercise. I have done a good deal of walking in my time, raking and harrowing and sowing peas, and so forth; but I always had something to do. Here, however, I had nothing at all.

And then you drink water from morning to night. It is just like pouring water through a sieve, and they stand there and groan, and say, 'Ah, the beautiful water!' Don't you believe them, Karl, they are hypocrites. Water is bad enough, outside, but inside it is fearful; it is good, though, for all that.

"Then you take a sitz-bath--can you imagine how that feels, four degrees above freezing point? Just as if the devil had got you on a red-hot iron stool, and kept putting fresh fire under; but then it is good for you. Then you walk again, till noon, and then you eat your dinner.

"But you have no conception, Karl, how people eat at a water-cure! The water must sharpen the stomach famously. Karl, I have seen ladies, as slender and delicate as angels, who would eat three great pieces of steak, and potatoes--preserve us! enough to plant half an acre! The water-doctors are to be pitied, for one must eat them out of house and home. After dinner, you drink water again, and then you can talk with the ladies; for in the morning they won't speak to you, they go about in strange disguises, some with wet stockings, as if they had been crabbing, others with their heads tied up in wet cloths, and their hair flying. You can talk to them as you please, but you will find it hard to get answers, unless you inquire about their diseases, whether they have had an eruption, or swellings or boils, for that is polite conversation at a water-cure. After you have amused yourself in this manner, you must go to the 'Tusche,'[2] but don't think that it is black,--no, nothing but clear cold water; it is good, though. You must take notice, Karl, everything that is particularly disagreeable and a man's especial horror, is good for the human body."

"You should be cured of your gout, then, Brasig, for you have a special horror of cold water."

"One may see very well, Karl, that you have never been at a water-cure.

You see, the doctor explained it to me at length, this confounded Podagra is the chief of all diseases,--it is the mother of all mischief,--and it comes from the gout-stuff that lodges in the bones and ferments there, and the gout-stuff comes from the poison stuff that you swallow by way of nourishment, for example, k.u.mmel and tobacco, or the things you get from the apothecary. And if you have the gout you must be sweated in wet sheets, till all the tobacco which you have ever smoked, and all the k.u.mmel you have ever drank, is sweated out. So you see the poison-stuff goes away, and then the gout-stuff, and then the cursed Podagra itself."

"Was it so with you?"

"No."

"No? why didn't you stay longer, then? I would have held out till the end."

"Karl, you may talk. n.o.body holds out,--no human being could. They had one man there who was sweated till he smelt so strong of tobacco that the doctor called the patients in, that their own noses might testify, and it was put down in the books; but it came out afterward that the rogue had been smoking a cigar, which is forbidden,--and k.u.mmel is forbidden also. But to go on with the daily life. After the Tusche, you walk again, and by that time it is evening. You may still walk about in the twilight, if you please, and many of the gentlemen and ladies do so, or you may amuse yourself in the house, with reading. I used to read the water-books which a certain Russian has written, his name is Frank, one of the chiefs of the water-doctors. Karl, there is everything in those books, everything in brief. But it is hard for a man to understand, and, on that account, I did not get beyond the second page. That was quite enough for me, for after I had read it I was as dizzy as if I had been standing on my head half an hour. Do you think, Karl, that fresh air is fresh air? Not a bit of it! And do you think that water out of your pump is water? You are quite mistaken! You see, fresh air is composed of three parts, oxygen and nitrogen and carbonic acid gas. And the pump water is composed of two parts, oxygen and hydrogen. The entire water-cure system is founded upon fresh air and water. And you see, Karl, how wisely nature has provided; we go about in the open air, and we breathe in the black carbonic acid, and the nitrogen, for they cannot be separated, and then comes the water-cure and turns these ugly things out of doors, for the oxygen of the water unites with the carbonic acid, and the hydrogen drives out the nitrogen from the body, in the sweating process. Do you understand, Karl?"

"No," said Habermann, laughing heartily, "not a word of it."

"You shouldn't laugh at things that you don't understand, Karl. You see. I know the nitrogen is driven out, I have smelt it myself; but what becomes of the black carbon? That is the point, and I never could get beyond it, in my water-cure science, and do you suppose Pastor Behrens understands it? I asked him yesterday, and he knows nothing at all about it. But you will see, Karl, the black carbonic acid is still in my body, and so I shall have the cursed Podagra again."

"But, Zachary, why didn't you stay a little longer, until you were thoroughly cured?"

"Karl," said Brasig, dropping his eyes, with a confused expression, "it wouldn't do! Something happened to me, Karl," looking Habermann in the face again. "You have known me since I was a child, have you ever noticed any disrespectful behavior to the ladies?"

"No indeed, Brasig, I can testify to that."

"Well, then, just think how it must have troubled me! A week ago this last Friday, I had an infamous grumbling in my great toe,--for it always begins at the extremities,--and the water-doctor said, 'Herr Inspector, you must have an extra packing. Dr. Strump's confounded Colchic.u.m is doing the mischief, and we must have it out.' So he packed me himself, and bandaged me up so tight that I could scarcely draw breath, saying I did not need air so much as water, and upon that he was going to shut the window. 'No,' said I, 'I understand enough to know that I must have fresh air; leave the window open,' and he did so, and went off. I lay there quietly, thinking no harm, when suddenly I heard a humming and a buzzing, and as I looked up, a whole swarm of bees came in at the window, and the leader,--for I knew him, Karl, you know I am a bee-master, I went out one spring at Zittelwitz with the schoolmaster, and took seven and fifty hives--and this leader made straight for the blanket which the doctor had drawn over my head. Well, what was I to do? I could not stir,--I blew and blew at him, till I had no breath left; not the slightest use. The beast fastened himself on my bald head,--for I always left off my peruke, in order not to injure it--and the whole swarm came hovering over my face. I rolled myself out of bed, fell on the floor, struggled out of the blankets and wet sheets, and ran out of the door, with the devils after me, and cried for help. G.o.d be praised, the a.s.sistant of the water-doctor--the man's name is Ehrfurcht,--met me, and took me to another room, and got me necessary clothing, so that after resting awhile I could go down into the dining-room, that is to say, with half a score bee-stings in my body. I began to talk to the gentlemen, and they laughed. I turned to one of the ladies, and made a friendly remark about the weather, and she blushed. Why should the weather make her blush? I don't know, nor you either, Karl. Why do you laugh? I turned to another lady, who was a singer, and asked her very politely to sing a song, that she had sung every evening. What do you think she did, Karl? She turned her back on me. As I stood there wondering what it all meant, the water-doctor came to me, and said, 'Herr Inspector, don't take it ill, but you made yourself quite noticeable this afternoon.' 'How so?' said I. 'Yes,' said he, 'when you sprang out of the door, Fraulein von Hinkefuss was crossing the corridor, and she has told it in confidence to all the rest.' 'And on that account, am I to be deprived of all pity? Shall the gentlemen laugh, and the ladies turn their backs on me? I did not come here for that! If Fraulein von Hinkefuss had got half a score of bee-stings in her body, I should inquire after her every morning, with the greatest interest. But let her go! One cannot buy sympathy in the market. But now come, Herr Doctor, and take the bee-stings out of me.'

If you believe me Karl, he couldn't do it. 'What,' said I, 'not take a bee-sting out of my skin?' 'No,' said he, 'I _could_, to be sure, but I dare not, it would be a surgical operation, and according to the Mecklinburg laws I am not qualified for it.' 'What?' said I, 'you can drive the poison out of my bones, and not draw the stings out of my body? You dare not touch the skin of the outer man, and you clear out his inside with your confounded water? I am obliged to you!' and from that moment, Karl, I lost confidence in the whole concern, and without that it could do me no good, they say so themselves to everybody, when he first arrives. So I came away, and had the stings taken out by old Surgeon Metz, at Rahnstadt. And so ends my story of the water-cure. It is a good thing, though; one gets quite a different view of things, and even if the cursed Podagra is not cured, one gets an idea of what a human being can endure. And, Karl, I brought you home a water-book, you can study the science in the winter evenings."

Habermann thanked him, and the conversation turned to farming matters, and so, by degrees, to the apprentices.

"How does your young gentleman get along?" inquired Brasig.

"Very well indeed, Brasig, he is equally good at everything. I am only sorry that cannot see more of him. He does his duty, wherever he is, and Daniel Sadenwater tells me that he watches many a night with our poor, sick master, though he is very tired. He is a model young man. He has interest in his work, and a kind heart for his friends."

"Well, Karl, and your greyhound?"

"Oh, he is not so bad; he has a good many maggots in his head, but the youth is not vicious. He does what he is told, when he doesn't forget it. Well! we were young once ourselves."

"The best of your young folks is that they are so hearty. I was at Christian Klockmann's, you see, lately, he has a son, fourteen years old, just confirmed. He is tired all day, falls asleep while he is walking, when he ought to eat he won't eat, and if he is sent to the field he perishes with cold."

"Ah, no! my two are not like that," said Habermann.

"And the young gentleman watches at night by the old master?" said Brasig. "It is sad for the young man! The Herr Kammerrath is then very feeble? Give him my respects, Karl, I must say adieu, I have an appointment to meet my gracious Herr Count." Whereupon Brasig departed.

The Kammerrath had indeed grown very feeble, of late; he had suffered another slight shock, but had fortunately retained his speech, and this evening Franz came to ask Habermann to go over and see his uncle, who wished to speak with him.

When the Inspector entered the room, Fidelia was there, chattering to the old gentleman of this and that; the poor child knew not how long she might be able to talk with her good father. The Kammerrath bade her leave him alone with Habermann, and when she was gone he looked at the inspector with deep sadness, and said, feebly, "Habermann, dear Habermann, when that which has always given us pleasure pleases us no longer, the end is near." Habermann looked at him, and could not conceal from himself the sad truth, for he had seen many death-beds; his eyes fell, and he asked, "Has the doctor been here to-day?"

"Ah, dear Habermann, what good can the doctor do me? I would rather see Pastor Behrens once more. But I must speak to you first of other affairs. Sit down here, near me."

He went on hastily, yet with frequent interruptions, as though time and breath were both growing short for him. "My will is at Schwerin. I have thought of everything, but--my illness came so suddenly--my wife's death--I fear my affairs do not stand quite so well as they should."

After a short pause, he resumed, "My son will have the estate, my two married daughters are provided for, but the unmarried ones--poor children! they will have very little. Axel must take care of them--G.o.d bless him, he will have enough to do to take care of himself. He writes me that he wishes to remain another year in the army. Very well, if he lives carefully, something may be saved to pay debts. But the Jew, Habermann, the Jew! Will he wait? Have you said anything to him?"

"No, Herr Kammerrath; but Moses will wait; at least I hope so. And if not, there is a good deal of money coming in from the farm, much more than last year."

"Yes, yes, and real estate has risen. But what good is it? Axel understands nothing of farming; but I have sent him books, through Franz, books about agriculture,--he will study them; that will help him, won't it, Habermann?"

"G.o.d bless the poor old Herr!" thought Habermann. "He was always so practical and reasonable himself, he wouldn't have said that when he was strong and well; but let him take what comfort he can," so he said yes, he hoped so.

"And, dear friend, you will stay with him," said the Kammerrath earnestly, "give me your hand upon it, you will stay with him?"

"Yes," said Habermann, and the tears stood in his eyes, "so long as I can be useful to you or your family, I will not leave Pumpelhagen."

"I was sure of it," said his master, falling back exhausted upon the pillows, "but Fidelia shall write--see him once more,--see you and him together."

His strength was gone, he drew his breath with difficulty.

Habermann rose softly, and pulled the bell, and as Daniel Sadenwater came, he took him into the ante-room, "Sadenwater, our master is worse, I am afraid he cannot last long; call the young ladies, and the young Herr, but say nothing definite about him."

A shadow fell upon the old servant's face, as when the evening wind pa.s.ses over a quiet lake. He looked through the half-opened door of the sick-room as if it came from thence, and said to himself as if in excuse, "G.o.d bless him, it is now thirty years----" turned away, and left the room.

Franz and the young ladies came. The poor girls had no idea that their father was failing so rapidly; they had thought surely the doctor would be able to help him, and the Lord would spare him a little longer. They had taken turns in watching by him, of late, and it struck them strangely that they should all be there at once, with Franz, and Habermann, and Daniel Sadenwater.

"What is it, what is it?" began Fidelia, to the old inspector.

Habermann took her hand, and pressed it. "Your father has become worse, he is very ill, he wishes to see your brother---- Herr von Rambow, if you will write a couple of lines, I am going to send the carriage for the doctor, and the coachman can take the letter to the post. In three days your brother can be here, Fraulein Fidelia."

"He will not last three hours," said Daniel Sadenwater, softly, to Habermann as they came out of the sick-room.