"Don't take it ill, Herr Burgomeister; that is what everybody says, but it isn't true. What? Our Herr Pomuchelskopp belongs to the Reformverein, and has made a speech there; but, Herr, he told nothing but lies, and we know better."

"Well, what do you intend to do?"

"Herr Gustaving is there, and when he tells us to do this or that, we shall do it; but Willgans and I will go to the grand-duke, and give him an account of the matter, and that is what I wanted to ask you, if you would give us some papers to take with us."

"What do you want with papers?"

"Well, Herr Burgomeister, don't take it ill, there is no harm in it.

You see, I went to the old railroad, without any papers, and they turned me out, of course; but the grand-duke is no railroad, and he would not act so inconsiderately, and if we have no papers to show you can show your nose, Willgans, how the old woman has treated you, and I will show my honest hands, which have never been in any unjust business."

Upon that, the old man went out, and the laborers crowded around him, and felt in their pockets, and produced the few shillings and groschens they had by them: "There, now go! The shortest road to Schwerin!" and "Neighbor, don't forget Kapphingst's girl!" and "Neighbor, if he asks what we have lived on, you may say honestly we have stolen nothing from our master; but we have helped ourselves to a few of Frau Nussler's potatoes, because she never minded it."

The two set out for Schwerin, the other day-laborers went home; Johann Jochen drove the empty carriage behind them; the people, who had a.s.sembled in quite a crowd before the burgomeister's door,--for the business had spread through the town like wildfire,--dispersed to their homes, and Uncle Brasig said to Habermann, "Karl, he is getting his deserts. I went in a moment, not on his account, but for those poor fellows, the laborers; but when he came in, I went away, for I didn't want to see him in his disgrace."

Pomuchelskopp had gone to Grammelin's, with his dear family, and he sat now, in misery and distress, by the bedside of the Herr Notary; for Slusuhr had gone directly to bed, after his beating, in order that the business might appear to be very serious.

"I have sent for the doctor, and shall have myself examined, so that I can catch the inspector nicely. Strump is not at home, but the other one will be here directly."

"Ah, how fortunate you are!" said Pomuchel.

"I should not have supposed," said the Herr Notary, turning on his other side, "that it was a particular piece of good fortune to get a jacket full of blows from a buckthorn staff, as thick as your thumb."

"You can avenge yourself, but I,--poor man that I am,--what can I do?"

"You can get a detachment of soldiers, and then you can punish the rascals, within an inch of their lives, and if you are too much of a milksop to do it yourself, employ your wife, she will do it finely."

"G.o.d bless you! no! no! I have enough on my hands! I can do nothing about Pumpelhagen yet, and I dare not go back to Gurlitz, they will tear my house down over my head. No, no! I shall sell, I shall sell!"

"Shall I tell you some news?" said David, who came into the room, in time to hear the last words, "you are right, sell; I will look out for you, I know----"

"Infamous Jew rascal!" said Slusuhr, shifting his position again,--"aw!

thunder!--do you think we cannot manage that for ourselves? Yes, Herr Pomuchelskopp, I would sell, for if they don't tear your house down they might get at the barns, and the potato middens."

"Well, Herr Notary, what will you do?" asked David. "You have some money; you might manage a farm-house, or a mill, but for an estate like that? You must come to my father."

"Your father? When he hears that it is for Pomuchelskopp, he will say: 'Cash down!' We three are not in very high credit with him."

"If I tell him----" began David, but just then the doctor came in, the father of the little a.s.sessor.

"Good morning! You sent for me?" turning to Slusuhr, "you wanted to see me?"

"Ah, Herr Doctor, you were at the ball last night. Oh, my bruises! You must surely have heard----"

"He got a beating," said David, "I am a witness he was dreadfully abused."

"Will you hold your cursed tongue?" cried Slusuhr. "Herr Doctor, I wish you would examine me medically; I fear I shall never recover the use of my limbs."

Without more words, the doctor went up to the patient, and removed the shirt from his shoulders, and there was much to be read there which is not usually seen on a pair of shoulders, and the inscription was written in red ink, in the largest capitals. Pomuchelskopp sat there, with folded hands, in the deepest melancholy, but when he saw the inscription on the notary's back, a very comfortable expression dawned in his face, and David sprung up, exclaiming, "Good heavens! How he looks! Herr Doctor, I will let you examine me too; carpenter Schultz dragged me out from under the table, and tore my new dress-coat."

"Send for the tailor!" said the doctor quietly, and turning to the notary: "I will leave a certificate for you, with Grammelin. Good morning, gentlemen!"

Then he went down-stairs, and after a little while, Grammelin's waiting-maid brought up the paper, which the doctor had left for the Herr Notary. Slusuhr opened it, and read:

"As in duty bound, I hereby testify that the Herr Notary Slusuhr has received a good, sound flogging, as is clearly evident from the suggillations upon his back. It has done him no harm, however. So and So, Dr. Med."

"Has the fellow the insolence to say that?" screamed Slusuhr. "It has done him no harm? Well, just wait, we will talk about that, by and by."

"Good heavens!" cried David, "isn't it better that it has done you no harm, than if had hurt you?"

"You are an idiot! But what am I lying here for?" said Slusuhr. "You will excuse me, I must go out, I must thank the Herr Inspector for his flogging--with a little writ."

"Don't forget me, my dear friend," said Pomuchel. "You must write for me to Pumpelhagen to-day."

"Rely upon me. I feel spiteful enough, to-day, to get out writs against the whole world. Haven't you something to write, David?"

"If I have anything to write, I can write it, if I have nothing to write, I shall write nothing," said David, and he went out with Pomuchelskopp.

CHAPTER XLIV.

Gloomy, heavy, leaden hours oppressed the young Frau von Rambow, after Pomuchelskopp's visit; slowly, step by step, they pa.s.sed over her, and in their footprints new cares and anxieties sprang up; with firm, energetic hands, she pulled up these weeds from her path; but in time the most active hand grows weary, and the strongest heart longs for rest.

Her husband had not returned on the day appointed; instead there had come a messenger, with a letter, bearing Slusuhr's seal, who said he had orders to wait, until he could give the letter into the hands of the Herr von Rambow himself. What that signified, she could easily understand. She sat, in the twilight, in her room, by her child; her hands were folded in her lap, and she looked out, in the hazy summer evening, at the dark clouds gathering over the sky.

The day had been sultry, and in such weather, the blood flows heavily through the veins, not leaping and throbbing, like a living spring of clear water, but dragging; sleepily along, like the black water in a ditch, and even as Nature sighs and pants for the storm, which shall give her fresh life, so the heart longs and sighs, in impatience, for the whirlwind and thunderbolt of destiny, which may save it from such wearing torture,--come what may, deliver us from this fearful suspense. This was Frida's mood, so she longed and sighed for a st.u.r.dy thunder-bolt which might drive away the foul air in which she was stifling, and make everything clear around her; and she did not sigh in vain.

Korlin Kegel came in, bringing the post-bag, and stood there as if she wanted to do something, then unlocked the bag, and laid a letter on the table before her mistress, and again stood still.

"Gracious Frau, shall I light the lamps?"

"No, let them be."

Korlin did not go, she remained standing:

"Gracious Frau, you have forbidden us to come telling tales, but----"

"What is it?" asked Frida, rousing herself from her thoughts.

"Ah, gracious Frau, the Gurlitz people have driven away Herr Pomuchelskopp, and his wife and his two daughters."

"Have they done that?" cried Frida.

"Yes, and now all our day-laborers are standing outside, and want to speak to you."