CHAPTER XIX.

Towards the middle of the afternoon, the merchant Kurz, and the rector Baldrian were approaching the Rexow farm.

Kurz had invited the rector to be his companion, to his own detriment, for a little man appears to fearful disadvantage beside a long-legged fellow, and nature, in cheating Kurz of his rightful dimensions, appeared to have endowed the rector with the surplus. So they walked along the road, and the rector made a joke; he said that they two together reminded him of the metre, which the Romans called a dactyl, long, short, short; long, short, short. That provoked Kurz, since it was disparaging to his legs and his capabilities as a pedestrian; he took the longest possible steps.

"Now we can pa.s.s for a spondee," said the rector.

"Do me the favor, brother-in-law," said Kurz, angrily, and wholly out of breath, "to spare me your learned witticisms. They are altogether too much for me." And he wiped off the sweat from his face, pulled off his coat, and hung it over his stick.

In his belief, Kurz was properly a materialist, but by trade he was a mercer. There were always remnants left over, in this business, which was quite a convenience to a man of his short stature, since he could use them up for himself. When he had cleared out his old stock last year, he had a piece of ladies' dress goods left on hand, on which were represented giraffes plucking at a palm-tree. He could not think of throwing it away, and he could not get rid of it, so he had it made up into a summer coat for himself, and he was now marching on the Rexow farm, with this banner over his shoulder, as if he were the youngest standard-bearer in the army of a German prince, who bore a giraffe and a palm-tree in his shield; and rector Baldrian stalked by his side, in a yellow nankeen coat, like a right file-leader, in the body-guard of the German prince, who might, for a change, have adopted yellow nankeen as a uniform.

"Dear me!" sighed Frau Nussler, "Kurz is bringing the rector with him."

"Sure enough," said Brasig, "but he shall not incommode us much to-day, I will cut his speeches short." For they both had, not without reason, a great terror of the rector's circ.u.mstantiality.

The two guests entered, and the rector delivered a long oration upon his joy in seeing them again, and the happy opportunity of coming with Kurz; to which Brasig replied curtly, that long legs were the best opportunities for one who was going across country, and turned away, so that the rector, while Frau Nussler was occupied with Kurz, found his audience limited to Jochen, who listened in the most exemplary manner to the whole discourse, and finally said, "Good day, brother-in-law, sit down a little while."

Kurz was out of temper; in the first place, because he had come to give his boy a scolding, secondly, because the rector had walked him off his legs, and, thirdly, because in pulling off his coat he had taken cold, and got a fit of the hiccoughs. His crossness, to be sure, was nothing remarkable, for he was angry year in and year out, because he was a democrat, of course not a state democrat, for they didn't have such then in Mecklenburg; only a city democrat, since he made it the particular business of his life to pull public offices from the grasp of the thick-nosed baker, in the market-place, who was so horribly favored by the burgomeister. He went puffing and hiccoughing about the room, and looked, with his red, moist face and his short grizzled hair, like a fine, red, freshly cut ham, cooked in paste, well sprinkled with pepper and salt, with the gravy following the knife.

The comparison is not strictly accurate, because the knife was wanting, but Brasig took care for that; he ran to the dresser, caught up a long, sharp carving-knife, marched directly up to the ham and said, "So, Kurz, now sit perfectly still."

"What is that for?" inquired Kurz.

"Remedy for the hiccoughs. So! Now you must look right at the point of the knife. Now I come nearer and nearer to you with the point; but you must be frightened, or it will do you no good. Still nearer,--still nearer, as if I were going to split your nose open. Still nearer--close to your eyes."

"Thunder and lightning!" cried Kurz, springing up. "Do you mean to put my eyes out?"

"Good!" said Brasig, "good! You are frightened, and that will help you."

And it did help, truly, that is, as regards the hiccoughs, not as regards the crossness.

"Where is my boy?" he asked. "He shall get a scolding to-day. Nothing but vexations, brother-in-law!" turning to Jochen. "Here with the boy, at the Rathhaus with the public doc.u.ments, at home with my wife, on account of that confounded sermon affair, in the shop with that beast of an apprentice, selling a half ounce of black sewing silk for a drachm, and here, on the road, with the rector's long shanks."

"Mother," said young Jochen, pushing a coffee-cup towards her, "help Kurz."

"Eh, brother-in-law," said Frau Nussler, "there is time enough, let us talk it over first; to come down on the boy when you are so heated would be like pouring oil on the fire."

"I'll come down on him----" began Kurz; but he went no further, for the door opened, and Gottlieb entered.

Gottlieb's step was more than usually dignified, as he walked up to his father, and greeted him. He was so excessively solemn, and had such an air of clerical reserve, that he looked as if St. Salbaderus had taken him under his special tuition, and hung him up by a string every night, to keep him out of harm's way.

"Good day, how goes it, papa?" said he, and kissed his father on the cheek, so that the old man kissed in the air, like a carp, when he comes up out of the water.

"How is mamma?" inquired the son.

Gottlieb had been brought up from a child to say "Papa" and "Mamma,"

because the rector thought "Father" and "Mother," although quite good enough for ordinary burghers, were not suitable for educated people; at which Frau Kurz was naturally very indignant, since her children always said "Daddy" and "Mammy."

"Good day, uncle," said Gottlieb to Kurz, "good day, Herr Inspector,"

to Brasig, and, turning again to his father, he went on: "I am very glad you have come to-day, for I wish to speak to you particularly, on important business."

"Ha, ha," said Brasig to himself, "it is beginning already."

The rector went out into the court-yard with his son, and Brasig stationed himself at the window, and watched them. Frau Nussler came up to him: "Brasig, did you find out anything, this afternoon, about my little girls?"

"Frau Nussler," said Brasig, "don't you be troubled, the business has settled itself."

"What?" cried Frau Nussler, hastily, "how has it settled itself?"

"You will soon find out, for if you look out of the window you will see it is being settled now. Why do you think the rector is shaking hands with Gottlieb, and embracing him? On account of his Christian belief?

Come, I will tell you why; it is because you, Frau Nussler, are such a good housekeeper."

Brasig had great knowledge of human nature, and could read hearts like a prophet; but he shared the common failing of prophets, he uttered dark sayings. Frau Nussler did not understand a word: "What? He embraces Gottlieb because I am a good housekeeper!"

Brasig had another prophet's failing; he gave no answer to a reasonable question, if it did not suit his humour. "Can't you see how he gives him his blessing?" he exclaimed. "He knows very well that money answereth all things, and he knows there is plenty of it here."

"What has that to do with my children?"

"You will soon find out. See! now the Pietist is going away, and now look at the old man. Lord have mercy on us! he is learning off a speech by heart; and it will be a long one,--all his speeches are long, but the ceremonious ones are the longest."

Brasig had great knowledge of human nature, as was fully proved on this occasion, for the rector came in, and began immediately:

"Honored friends, a certain wise man of antiquity has uttered the indisputable truth, that the happiest home is that where quiet peace dwells, in company with a comfortable, substantial competency. Here, in this house, this is the case. I have not come here to disturb this quiet peace; my dear brother-in-law, Kurz can do what he pleases,--I have come by accident, but accident is a 'casus' or falling out, whereby important things sometimes fall in a man's way. This is the case with me to-day. This accident may fall out for good, or it may fall out for evil; but I will not antic.i.p.ate, I will say nothing further about it. Dear Brother Jochen, you as the proper head of this happily situated family"--Jochen made a face as if his brother-in-law had said he was the proper autocrat of all Russia, and ought by good rights to be sitting on his throne in the Kremlin at Moscow, instead of sitting here in the chimney-corner--"yes," repeated the rector, "you, as the proper head of the family, will pardon me if I address myself also to my dear sister-in-law, who has cared for the affairs of her own family with so much love and circ.u.mspection, and with such blessed results, and also upon the families related--I refer here particularly to the friendly reception of my Gottlieb--has exerted a highly beneficial influence. You, my dear brother-in-law Kurz, belong also to the family, and although our two families, at least the female members, have been lately a little divided, though--well, on this happy occasion we will say nothing more about it--I am sure you really feel interested in my happiness. But now," going up to Brasig, "how shall I address you, Herr Inspector? You, though you do not, strictly speaking, belong to the family, have yet been so helpful in action, so wise in counsel----"

"Come. I will give you a bit of advice," said the old man; "take a fresh start or you will never get to the end."

"End?" said the rector, with the authority of the clergyman breaking through the crust of the pedant. "End?" asked he, solemnly, raising his eyes to heaven, "will it come to a good or a bad end? Who knows the end?"

"I know it," said Brasig, "for I heard the beginning, this afternoon, up in that confounded cherry-tree. The end of the whole story is, the Pietist wants to marry our Lining."

Then there was an uproar, "Gracious heavens!" cried Frau Nussler.

"Gottlieb! our child?"

"Yes," said the rector, snapping out the word, and standing there like Klein, the head-fireman at Stemhagen, when the engines were being tried, and the hose burst, and he got the whole stream of water over himself.

Kurz sprang up, exclaiming; "The rascal! Gottlieb? That is too much!"

And Jochen also got up, but slowly, and asked Brasig, "_Mining_, did you say, Brasig?"

"No, young Jochen, only _Lining_," said Brasig, quietly. And young Jochen sat down again.

"And you knew that, Brasig, and never told us?" cried Frau Nussler.

"Oh, I know yet more," said Brasig, "but why should I tell you? What difference could it make whether you knew it a quarter of an hour sooner, or not; and I thought it would be a pleasant surprise for you."