Why I send the Miller's Friedrich and not a princess through the Gülzow Wood; why Friedrich called the Bailiff Besserdich, "Father-in-law;" how he "decoyed the dog from behind the stove;" and how Luth, the messenger, could not help laughing at his own Burmeister.
If any little Miss who reads this book should feel angry with me for beginning this chapter with a miller's man and not with a princess, she must remember that there could be no princesses at all, if there were no millers' men, and that sometimes a miller's man is of more value than a princess--for example, to me at this moment. For, if I want to catch the French chasseur, I must not send a princess, with a crinoline and satin shoes, through the Gülzow Wood in such weather and along such roads,--but a miller's man. And, best of all, the Miller's Friedrich.
"Dumouriez!" said Friedrich, as he followed the chasseur's track, "if the Frenchman is to be found between here and Gripswold, I'll have him."
Friedrich traced the chasseur through the Stemhagen Wood, and through the Gülzow Wood, and at last reached the Gülzow road; but there he came to a standstill--an owl would have been puzzled; there was nothing to serve as a guide. Had the fellow turned to the right or to the left?
For a while Friedrich stood there--like Matz Fots of Dresden; but soon a bright thought flashed across him, and he said to himself,--"If the rascal has taken the road to Stemhagen, it must have been through sheer stupidity. No, the fellow has gone towards Gülzow." And he went that way accordingly.
At Gülzow, Freier, an old peasant, was standing by his hedge, throwing stones, as big round as the brim of your hat, into the holes in the road. In some places in Mecklenburg this is what they call "mending the roads."
"Good morning, Freier; have you seen a Frenchman pass by here this morning?" said Friedrich.
"A Frenchman?" asked Freier.
"Yes," said Friedrich; "a French chasseur."
"A chasseur?" asked Freier.
"Yes, in a green uniform," said Friedrich.
"On horseback?" asked Freier.
"No, on foot," said Friedrich.
"What does he want?" asked Freier?
"What does he want?" asked Friedrich. "He doesn't want anything; but I want to speak to him."
"What have you got to speak about to a Frenchman?"
"Dumouriez!" said Friedrich. "What business is that of yours, you blockhead? I only ask you if you have seen such a fellow?"
"In a green uniform?" asked Freier.
"Yes," said Friedrich.
"With a shako?"
"No, with his head bare."
"With his head bare! And this morning in the rain?"
"Yes, you hear, I tell you so," cried Friedrich, angrily. "Just answer me simply: have you seen the fellow or have you not?"
"Wait a moment. Isn't to-day Thursday?"
"Yes," said Friedrich.
"Well, then it was not to-day; it was last Monday, and there were a lot of them, but in blue uniforms, and on horseback; and my boy, Zamel, has gone to-day to Stemhagen with our team for them."
"Freier," said Friedrich, "you should not have sent your team to Stemhagen; you can make a better use of it yourself, especially when you've got to give answers to people."
"How so?" asked Freier.
"And Freier," pursued Friedrich; "I know what would be a good employment for you--driving crabs to Berlin; a fellow like you would get on well at that."
"What do you mean?" asked Freier, more and more mystified.
"Oh, nothing," said Friedrich. "And now, good-morning, Freier. And if the Frenchman I am looking for should come by, just tell him, that I said, that you said, that your great grandmother had told you, when he said what he said, that you should say, that I had said he was not to call you an ass. And now good-bye, Freier."
"What?" said Freier, following him with his eyes as he went along the village, and turning round in his hands a stone of some thirty pounds weight; "What? He said, that I said, that you said, that I should say, he should not call me an ass? The cursed Prussian rascal! That's the way he always does." And he took the stone and threw it, with all his might--amongst the rest.
Friedrich goes further. Bailiff Besserdich looks out at his doorway. "Bailiff, have you seen a Frenchman pass by here this morning?"
"A Frenchman?" asked the bailiff. "Well, they are not so rare just now as all that; but this morning, do you say?"
"What, are you going to begin asking questions now?" said Friedrich. "I would rather tell you the story at once; it's the quickest plan." So he told him the story. "And," he concluded, "I must have him."
"That you must, Friedrich," said the bailiff. "And I will go with you; in fact it's what I'm appointed for; and our Herr Amtshauptmann said to me lately--'Besserdich,' said he, 'on you depends everything in Gülzow,' and he gave me a bundle of papers, and said, 'the matter is pressing.' Well, I got the summoner to read them to me, and when he had done, he said: 'The matter requires the greatest speed, bailiff.' 'No,' said I, 'I know better; the Herr Amtshauptmann told me the matter was pressing, and whenever he's said that to me before, I have always waited a full month first, and been ready in good time all the same!' And so I was that time. But, Friedrich, your business is not pressing, it 'requires the greatest speed.' I will just fetch my hat and then we will go."
This done, they set off. As they came out on the road at the other end of the village, the bailiff said--
"Friedrich, my Hans--you know the boy; he's now in his sixteenth year, but I thought I would have him at home for a year or so longer--he's keeping the sheep here in the rye-field; for, you see, I thought to myself my fodder has run short, and at this time of year they can get a meal for themselves in the fields, so I'll turn them out here;--he has perhaps seen the fellow."
They now asked Hans. Yes, the boy had seen him; he had gone to Pinnow. At Pinnow they passed the schoolmaster's, and asked whether he had seen a Frenchman.
The schoolmaster's name was "Sparrow," but he was always called "Bullfinch;" some said, because he could sing so well; others, because he hopped about and poked his nose everywhere, and was always chaffing. The Bullfinch found it easy to lead the bailiff by the nose, but Friedrich soon saw what was going on; and, when he saw that the Bullfinch made a sign to his wife to row in the same boat with him, he thought to himself--"Wait a moment, I'll make you look blue presently;" and he got up, and said he wished to go and light his pipe at the kitchen fire.
The Bullfinch now began to overwhelm the bailiff with all sorts of stories; and when Besserdich succeeded in getting in a word, and asked whether they had not seen the Frenchman, the Bullfinch said no, and his wife also said, no.
Whilst they were going on in this way. Friedrich came in again, and said: "Something must have happened to your chimney, for the stick with the sausages has fallen down on to the ground."
The wife jumped up, ran out to the kitchen, and then came hack with the stick in her hand--"Look there now! This is the thanks we get! That shameless fellow has stolen one of our sausages."
"What fellow?" asked Friedrich.
"Why, the French fellow you were asking about."
"Oh! so he has been here then, has he?" said Friedrich.
"I should think so! And Sparrow gave him some brandy and some bread-and-butter, and showed him the way to Demzin!"
"Well, good-bye, then," said Friedrich. "Come along, bailiff; we know all we want now."
"Bailiff," said Friedrich, when they were some way from Pinnow and the Bullfinch, "you are a sort of man of law, and must needs know this--what is the punishment for stealing a sausage?"
"Well, Friedrich," replied the bailiff, "I don't know about sausages, but I know very well the punishment for stealing a flitch of bacon; for when the lame shoemaker took one of mine out of the smoke, the Herr Amtshauptmann gave him a fortnight in prison and a dozen on his jacket into the bargain."
"Well, that's not dangerous," said Friedrich; "and, if you reckon according to that, it would be precious little for one sausage."
"How do you make that out?"
"Well now, bailiff, tell me; when you kill seven pigs, how many flitches of bacon do you get?"
"Fourteen," said the bailiff.
"That's not true," said Friedrich; "you only get thirteen. One is taken for the sausages."
"Yes, you're right," said the bailiff.
"Well then, how many sausages does your wife make out of seven pigs? About thirty, doesn't she? Then one flitch makes thirty sausages; and so, for one sausage, there would be, at most, half a day and half a blow; and that I consider is a righteous and merciful punishment; you may at once give me the half-blow on my back, and the half-day I will spend next Sunday afternoon in your house, in the corner behind the stove. For, look here--I took the Bullfinch's sausage."
"What Devil tempted you to do that?"
"No Devil, only hunger," said Friedrich, and he drew the sausage out of his pocket, and cut off a piece. "Here Bailiff! The sausage is good, you can eat it without bread."
"No," said the Bailiff, "I'll have nothing to do with stolen goods."
"How, Stolen?" asked Friedrich. "This is merely 'forage' as we used to say under the Duke of Brunswick. And, Bailiff, surely you have climbed up into the priest's apple-tree often enough before now."
"The Devil only knows what is the matter with you this morning!" said Besserdich. "Yes, I have when I was a silly youngster; but now I have grown-up children, and must set them a good example."
"That's true," said Friedrich; "what one may do, another mayn't.--Bailiff," he added, after a while, "how old is your daughter Hanchen?"
"Well, Friedrich," said the Bailiff, and his eyes began to twinkle, "she's not old, she is only just eighteen; but I tell you, she's as sharp as a needle."
"I know that," said Friedrich; "I sat by her side yesterday evening up at the Stemhagen Schloss, and I can fully say she pleased me so well that I should be ready to change my state to please her."
"Come, come, you are going too fast," said the Bailiff, and he looked at Friedrich from top to toe.
"Yes," said Friedrich, "and I thought you might find some other farm for your Fritz; and, as you are getting old you might lay yourself on the shelf, and could give us your land; and then Hanchen and I should have a nice home, and you would have a deal of pleasure in us.
"By Heaven!" cried the Bailiff, "are you really in earnest?"
"Why not?" said Friedrich; "do I look as if I were joking?"
"What?" cried Besserdich; "An old beggar like you want to marry a Bailiff's daughter! My daughter! A young girl of eighteen!"
"Mind what you're saying. Bailiff," said Fritz. "Old, say you? Just look at me, I am in my prime,--between twenty and fifty. A beggar, say you? I have never asked you for so much as a pipe of tobacco. It's true your Hanchen is, on the whole, younger than I am, but I don't object to that. I'll take her all the same, for she is clever, and knows that a fellow like me who has seen the world, is worth more than one of your young peasants with red cheeks and flaxen hair, who makes a bow like a clasp-knife and spits about in folk's rooms."
"Have you been putting these notions in the girl's head?" shouted the Bailiff, raising his stick against him.
"Put down your stick, Bailiff," said Friedrich; "what would people say if they heard that I had been fighting with my father-in-law, in the open country, before the wedding?"
The Bailiff let his stick drop.
"No, I could take a sausage from a fellow like the Bullfinch," Friedrich went on; "but I could not cheat a pretty, young thing like that of her happiness; I put no notions into your Hanchen's head."
The Bailiff looked at him out of the corner of his eye as if he would say, "The Devil may trust you!" but he said nothing. They now went on again,--but the egg was broken.
When they arrived at Demzin, Friedrich went up to a young clerk who was standing near them and said: "I beg your pardon, have you seen a Frenchman pass by?" And so on, and so on. The young man said yes; that rather less than an hour before, such a fellow had passed.
They walked through the village, and, at the other end an old woman had also seen the Chasseur. "We shall soon have him now," said Friedrich.
But a little further on they met, in the fields, an old man who was cutting willows near the path and he knew nothing of any Frenchman, and said the fellow had not passed since six o'clock in the morning.
What vas to be done now? Follow the road straight on? That would be a regular wild-goose chase. But the fellow had certainly gone out of the village; where had he stopped?
The Bailiff scratched his head; Friedrich looked all round and surveyed the country. At last he said;--"We can go no further, Bailiff; the trace is at an end here; so we must think the matter over. But the wind is cold, let us go and sit down by that oven yonder."[4]
Well, they did so. "What a fool I was," said the Bailiff, "to go running after a Frenchman in this weather!"
"Father-in-law, leave the Frenchman alone," said Friedrich; "we shall get him yet."
"Are you going to begin again with your 'fathers-in-law,' you Prussian knave?"
"What you are not, you may become. Bailiff.--I have known many people who have given their daughters and plenty of money into the bargain, for that name."
"Yes, but then they got rather different sons-in-law."
"Now, just look at me, Bailiff," said Friedrich, and he placed himself before the Bailiff as erect as he could make himself; "I'm not a lawyer, nor yet a doctor, but I have sound bones, and my hands speak of work. And if you don't trust your own eyes you can ask my Miller."
"Yes, and do you know what he'll say? He'll say you are steady enough and understand a thing or two, but that your sayings are not the sort to 'tice a dog away from a warm stove (oven)."
"I'll soon show you whether they are. But now, Bailiff, will you give me your Hanchen?"
"Damnation!" cried the Bailiff. "I thought at first it was only a joke. But now I do believe you're in earnest."
"I was joking about the farm and your laying yourself on the shelf, Bailiff," said Friedrich, "for your Fritz must of course have the farm. But I am in earnest about Hanchen, and I shall easily get a farm."
"You boaster!" said the Bailiff; "there now, that's one of your sayings, which, as I said, will 'tice no dog away from a stove."
"I will show you if they can or not," said Friedrich.
"You braggart!" said the Bailiff, getting up; "I shall go home, and you can go and catch your Frenchman by yourself."
"I have got him," said Friedrich.
"You sack of lies!" again cried the Bailiff.
"Bailiff," said Friedrich; "if the Frenchman stands before you in three minutes, and so my sayings entice a dog away from an oven, will you give me your Hanchen?" And he held his hand out to him.--"Shake hands upon it."
"There's my hand," cried the Bailiff; "just to show you that you are nothing but a boasting braggart."
And they shook hands on it. Friedrich gave a broad grin and stooped down to the mouth of the oven:
"Mossoo, allong ici--allong ici."--And what should creep out into the light but the Frenchman!
"Eh! Damn...!" cried the Bailiff.
"Pardon, Monsieur," said the Frenchman.
"Who has won the bet now, Bailiff?" asked Friedrich. "Here is the Frenchman and the dog too. Who is to have your Hanchen now?"
"Prussian vagabond," cried the Bailiff, and raised his stick again, "Do you think you can fool me into this? You have my Hanchen...! I would rather ..."
"Put down your stick, Bailiff, you frighten the Frenchman. Better come over here and help me to secure him; we can talk about the bet afterwards."
"Pardon," threw in the Chasseur.
"Pardong here, and pardong there," cried Friedrich; "what do you mean by running away from the beech-tree where I had laid you comfortably. This time I'll treat you in my fashion; Mamsell Westphalen is not here now," and, so saying, he cut the buttons off the Frenchman's trowsers: "And now, allong, avang!"--And in this way, they set off back through Demzin towards Pinnow.
The Bailiff walked by their side in the heavy rain, silent--and angry, though chiefly with himself; for whenever he tried to throw the blame on Friedrich's shoulders, he could not help saying to himself: "He is a rascal,--but he's a devilish clever fellow too. How could he know, I wonder, that the Frenchman was lying in the oven. And then his cutting off the buttons, what could he mean by that? I must make a note of the trick."
When they came to Gülzow, Friedrich said:--"Why, Bailiff, who is that coming hunting along over your field? What is he riding like that for? He cannot ride faster than the rain."
"Heavens!" said the Bailiff; "why that is Inspector Bräsig's brown mare, and the man on it is the Stemhagen Burmeister."
My father approached, and when he saw the Frenchman and Friedrich he said: "Now it's all right."--"But," he added, "first to your house, Bailiff, for my soul is freezing in my body, and I am wet to the skin."
"I see you are, sir; and we are pretty much in the same state."
Arrived at the Bailiff's house, all sorts of clothes were brought to light by the Bailiff's goodwoman, but it was hard work to provide for all three, for the bad times had made sad havoc in the Bailiff's wardrobe, and they were glad enough to find anything that would even half fit them. The Bailiff could get no other covering for himself than his own trowsers, Friedrich made himself look very fine in Fritz's Sunday coat, and my father, as the smallest, had to content himself with Hans's jacket, which of course the Bailiff did not wish, and made all sorts of excuses for. But when a person finds himself in safety after being in an unpleasant predicament, and in a dry place after being out in the rain, mirth readily gets the upper hand, and my father, on seeing himself in his costume, laughed till the tears rolled down his cheeks.
"But," said he, suddenly checking himself, and becoming quite grave, "here are we laughing when there is a fellow-being amongst us, shivering, not only with cold but with fear; and we ought to do what we can for him. Dame, you must help the Frenchman to some dry things."
But that was not so easy, and when they had hunted up everything else, they had to make up with the Bailiff's wife's old grey skirt.
"Eat heartily, comrade," said Friedrich, as they sat round the table eating the afternoon meal, and he pushed a piece of salt meat of some three pounds weight towards the Frenchman,--"Eat, comrade, for as long as you eat, you will live."
My father took pity on the fellow, and spoke a few words to him in French in a comforting tone, and the poor sinner answered so humbly and dejectedly that it quite moved the Bailiff, though he understood not a word of what was said, and he leant over to my father: "Shall we let the fellow go, Herr Burmeister?"
My father said, no; that would not do. The Miller and the Baker were in trouble, and had done no wrong; the Frenchman was also in trouble, but he had done wrong; and right was right and what was fair to one was fair to another.
The Bailiff's Fritz just then came riding into the yard with the team, and came into the room.
"Good evening, father," said he; "I have got off from the French," and he shook hands with the Bailiff, and then went up to my father, whose back was turned to him, and gave him a stout cuff: "Good evening, Hans, can't you speak to your brother?"
My father started and turned round; Fritz stood fixed to the spot like Lot's wife.
"Lord save us!" cried the Bailiff. "He comes in here and goes and strikes the Stemhagen Burmeister under my own roof. And the rascal is to be a bailiff some day!"
"Never mind," said my father. "However, as a punishment he shall have no rest yet; he shall drive us over to Stemhagen this very night."
"Through the whole world, if you like, Herr Burmeister," said Fritz.
"But how is it you are so late home?" asked the Bailiff.
"Why, father, I thought it might be ugly if they were to catch me and so I led the horses into the Wood, and stood on the watch; and I meant to stay there till evening, but while I was waiting, Luth came along and told me the French had been gone a long time, and that the Burmeister had escaped from them and that he was looking for him.
"Where is Luth, now, then?" asked my father.
"He'll he here directly," said Fritz, "he only stopped to make inquiries at the schoolmaster's."
Luth came in presently, and when he asked for my father and saw him in the short jacket, he lost all control over himself, forgot everything that he had meant to say, and burst out laughing.
My father got angry at this, for he was not thinking of the jacket now, but of my Mother and all at home, and he caught Luth by the collar:--"Luth, are you gone mad?" he cried; "What are my wife and children doing?"
"They are quite well, Herr Burmeister--ha, ha, ha! And the Herr Amtshauptmann is reading out of a book to the Frau Burmeister, and Mamsell Westphalen is stuffing Fritz with buns and apples; but, ha, ha, ha!--don't take it ill, Herr Burmeister; I can't help laughing."
Friedrich also began to laugh, and the Bailiff, and Fritz; and the Bailiff's wife said: "The Herr Burmeister does look very funny!"--My father's heart was light again now, so he could join in the laugh.
"You may laugh now, Luth," he said, "but make haste, for I have some pressing business for you. The French took away the valise with the gold and silver, did they not?"
"Yes, I saw it when they were dragging it off."
"Be quick then. You will find Inspector Bräsig's brown mare in the stable; take it and ride as fast as you can to Kittendorf to the Herr Landrath von Uertzen--for it was there the Chasseurs came from yesterday, and they no doubt got the silver spoons there;--and then tell the Herr Landrath how things stand in Stemhagen, and ask him to send a trusty man back with you who can swear to the spoons. By that means he may, perhaps, be able to recover his property. And now, away with you. And, Fritz, put the horses to, quickly."
They were all seated in the waggon in no time, except indeed the Bailiff, for his wife would not let him go: "You have nothing to do there; you can stop at home," she said.
"Wife" said the Bailiff, placing one foot on the wheel and the other on the shaft, and looking down at her, "that's against our agreement; you are mistress in the house and I am master in my bailiff's duties; and to take charge of a prisoner is a bailiff's duty."
And so saying he squeezed himself in between Friedrich and the Frenchman on one sack.
"Now Fritz," he cried, "off with you."
Proves that Friedrich was not really a thief; and relates how the Emperor Napoleon would have nothing to do with the Rathsherr; and how the Colonel had secrets with the Rathsherr.
Before the Stemhagen Rathhaus, the waggon drew up, and, at one bound, my Father was down from his sack, and telling the others to stay in the waggon till he called them.
As he came into the Hall, he was met by Marie Wienken with a light, for it had gradually got dark. Marie, who was our housemaid, on seeing my Father in Hans's jacket was very near letting the light fall, and was just going to scream, when he pushed her quickly into his room, and said "Hold your tongue, Marie! You are generally a sensible girl."
Marie was really stupid; but nothing brightens stupid people more than to hear themselves called clever.
"Is the Herr Amtshauptmann still here?" asked my Father.
"Yes, Herr."
"Then set down your light, and go into the room--don't let my wife suspect anything--and say to the Herr Amtshauptmann that there is some one outside who wishes to speak to him; and then bring him in here."
She did so and the old Herr came in.
"Good evening, my son, what is it you want, and what are you doing here in the Burmeister's room?"
"Herr Amtshauptmann, what are my wife and children doing?"
"What do I know of your wife and children, my lad?--You're young to have a wife and children."
"A thousand devils!" cried my father; "don't you know me then? Why I'm the Burmeister."
"What say you, eh?" cried the old Herr; "that's quite another thing. That's a very strange thing!--Consul Stavenhageniensis in a boy's jacket! But what says Horace? Nil admirari--above all in these times, my friend."
"My wife, Herr Amtshauptmann?"
"She knows you are free and will be delighted to see you back."
"But?"----
"Well, it won't do her any harm if she does see you in a short jacket. Come along!"
All sudden surprises, even pleasant ones, are painful. When joy sounds in our ears, as if, all at once two dozen trumpets had been blown close behind us, we feel as if our head and heart were split, and the most beautiful music becomes mere pain. No! I love joy when it comes like a singing bird in a cool wood, coming nearer and nearer from twig to twig, till at last it sings its song full in my ears from the nearest bush.
Joy had come to my mother rather too hastily at first; but she had got over the shock. Now it came to her from twig to twig; and, as my father entered the room, it sang its song full in her ears; the bird had come to her at last in a short jacket, and it seemed as if it were making all manner of bobbings to her out of the bush; she laughed with all her heart. The memory of this day was preserved amongst us down to the latest times, and whenever my father happened to return home from his work and cares in a particularly happy mood, we used to say: "father has got his short jacket on to-day."
When the first burst of happiness was somewhat over, the old Herr began: "And so you have brought the French Chasseur along with you, my friend?"
"Not I," said my father; "the Miller's Friedrich has done the greater part of the business; the Gülzow Bailiff helped him."
"This Friedrich must be a clever determined fellow," said the Amtshauptmann. "Eh, what say you? Let us have him in."
Friedrich came and the Bailiff too.
"Was it you, Friedrich, who threw the Frenchman out of the waggon?"
Friedrich thought to himself--"What? Is another court of justice going to be held?" And since he must needs answer the Amtshauptmann's question with a "yes," he planted himself firmly, with one leg advanced, and stood ready prepared for whatever might come: "Yes, Herr Amtshauptmann," said he.
"And are you aware that you have brought the Miller into great trouble?"
"Trouble? He's pretty well used to troubles, and one more won't hurt him."
"Was it you who took the valise from the Frenchman's horse?"
"Yes, Herr."
"And did you not take eight groschen of the Frenchman's property?"
"I only paid myself back eight groschen of my own," said Friedrich and he told them the story.
"You took them contrary to law and right, and what is he called who does that?"
Friedrich looked boldly at the old Herr, but said not a word.
"Bailiff Besserdich, what is such a man called?"
"By your leave, Herr Amtshauptmann, a thief!" the Bailiff broke out. "And he is one. Herr, it was only to-day he stole one of Bullfinch's sausages off the smoking-stick,--and the fellow wants to marry my Hanchen!"
"What does he want to do?"
"My Hanchen, Herr, who is in your service, he wants to marry her."
"Oh! ho!" said the Herr Amtshauptmann, and he looked at Friedrich from top to toe; "that's quite another thing.--You can go out now, my son, but I shall remember you."
Friedrich went, inwardly cursing the Bailiff and the Herr Amtshauptmann: "What does he want to remember me for?" he said to himself as he stood in the Hall.
But if he had known what those words meant in the mouth of the old Herr, he would not have been angry; for it was not the custom of the Amtshauptmann to remember what was bad; evil passed over his head without touching him, but if ever a means of doing good came in his way, he was only afraid lest he should lose the opportunity, and then it was always "Neiting,--Fritz Sahlmann,--Westphalen,--or children,--help me remember."
When Friedrich was gone, the old Herr turned round and said, laughing: "You have lost Fritz Sahlmann's sausage of this morning, Neiting; the Pinnow Bullfinch must have it, for, if this rascal of a Friedrich is to marry the Bailiff's Hanchen, we must first make him an honest man again."
"Yes," cried my father, and laid down an eight groschen piece on the table; "and here is the money which he took from the Frenchman."
"Well, and now, Bailiff, when is the wedding to be?" laughed the old Herr.
The Bailiff pulled a long face, and looked as if some one behind him, had suddenly clapped a pair of leather spectacles over his eyes, so as to prevent his seeing what was passing around him.--"But, Herr Amtshauptmann, the fellow is a beggar," he said at last.
"Things may change," said the Amtshauptmann. "In these troubled times several farms in this parish have become vacant, and who knows what the High Ducal Cabinet may think of Friedrich's services."
"Yes, but he is a thief as well, sir."
"Do not let me hear you say that again, Bailiff. When he took the eight groschen out of the valise this morning, could he not have kept the whole? Who would have known anything about it? And if he had carried it off across the Prussian frontier, what dog would have barked, or what cock would have crowed after him? What say you, eh?"
"Well, sir, but the eight groschen and the sausage?"
"The one he looked upon, in his ignorance, as his right, and the other as a joke."
"Well, Herr," said the Bailiff again, and he scratched his head, "even if it is so,--still my Hanchen is too young for the old lubber."
"I beg your pardon, Herr Amtshauptmann, for talking, in among law matters and farm business," Mamsell Westphalen here broke in, "but, Bailiff Besserdich, that's all stuff and nonsense, for it's right that a silly young girl like your Hanchen should have an experienced husband. And, Herr Amtshauptmann, if I may make so bold as to say so, he is a determined fellow and useful in times like these; and last night,--I won't say anything against Herr Droi, for he must know when it is the proper time to go at a man with sword and gun,--but last night Friedrich went at the Frenchman all alone by himself; and though his sayings are not quite proper for your room nor yet for my ears, still I could not help saying to myself, 'That's the man to do a deed!' And, Bailiff, the two would do well for one another, for what he is for deeds she is for words; and, Herr Amtshauptmann, she can keep a man at arm's length, for she has a blessed sharp tongue of her own, and that I can speak to."
The Bailiff looked at Mamsell Westphalen and then at the Herr Amtshauptmann;--he was quite dumb. All the objections which he had made were explained away; he sought for fresh ones but found none, till, at length, there flashed across him the thought which always did come to his aid at last, and he scratched his head, and said--"Well, Herr Amtshauptmann, I must hear first what my wife has got to say to it."
"Right, Bailiff. But, above all you must hear first what Hanchen says to it. For my part I have only wished to make it clear to you that Friedrich is no thief."
And so the matter was put off to St. Nobody's day, as we say in Mecklenburg.
The Frau Amtshauptmann had gone back to the Schloss with Mamsell Westphalen, and the other part of the company were getting tired, when Luth came back from his ride to Kittendorf, and said from the Herr Landrath--his compliments to the Herr Amtshauptmann, and he had sent his own valet-de-chambre about the silver.
Everything was now ready: The Herr Amtshauptmann had only to write a letter to the French Colonel. My father told Luth exactly what he was to do and say. Friedrich and Luth took the Chasseur between them in the waggon. The valet and Fritz Besserdich took their seats in front, and off they went through the dark night and muddy lanes towards Brandenburg.
"Yes," said the Bailiff, as he walked home alone in the dark towards Gülzow, "it's all very well for you to talk. The Amtshauptmann and Burmeister and Mamsell up at the Schloss are grand folks, and have nobody over them, but everybody commands a poor bailiff like me. Yes, if it were not for my wife,--and the fellow were not a thief,--and he were some ten years younger--and he had a farm of his own,--and Hanchen would have him, yes, then--then--no; then he would still not get the girl, for her mother would not have it...."
Now, no one can take it ill, if in telling an amusing tale I have no wish to mix up horrible stories with it, and so I shall not say more than necessary touching the French Chasseur. I shall say nothing about how he felt when he got to Brandenburg, or how he was brought before the Court-martial, and nothing about how the anguish of death came nearer and nearer, until he met the fate his evil deeds had brought upon him. And I could not do so, even if I wished; for I only write of what I know and this I don't know. I have never in my life hardened myself so far as to be able to look on a poor sinner led out for the last time, and to see how one sinner, by warrant of a human court, sends another sinner, before his time to the Tribunal of the Almighty. But let me say shortly that it happened; it was so.--And when his bleeding body lay on the sand, probably no one thought that the bullets would strike much deeper in another heart, far away in France. I mean his old mother's.
I will therefore only say that, through the Frenchman's being given up safe and sound, the Miller and the Baker were acquitted of the murder; and that, through his confession and through the evidence of Inspector Bräsig and the valet-de-chambre, the Landrath von Uertzen came to his own again; and the Colonel von Toll, when the Judge was going to keep back the money, as unclaimed property, got up, and said severely, that his regiment should not be branded with robbing and thieving. And so saying he took the valise and said to Luth:--
"You seem a sensible man; take this sealed valise and give it to the Herr Amtshauptmann Weber; he is to do with it what is right according to the practice of the country." Luth received a paper with it, and thus the matter was settled.
But now there arose a difficulty which no one had thought of before:--what was to be done with my uncle Herse. When the Miller and the baker and all the others had gone out of the court and away from him, my uncle remained there, like a fine old oak which the forester has left in a clearing, alone in its grandeur.
The Colonel looked at him and asked: "Why are you still here?"
My uncle Herse stirred his branches as it were, and from the look in his dusky-red face, it was clear that a storm of wind was beginning to agitate the head of the old tree: "That's what I was going to ask you," was his answer.
If a stranger had entered the room at that moment, he would hardly have been able to say which was the Rathsherr and which the colonel. Both had imposing uniforms on, both had proud aristocratic faces, and both had these from the habit of command; if the Colonel was a couple of inches taller, my uncle Herse was half a foot broader; and if the Colonel had hair on his upper lip, my uncle had it all over his face, for he had not been shaved for the last two days: old Metz the barber had forgotten to shave him the day before yesterday, and the day before yesterday's, yesterday's and to-day's growth, weighed fully as much as the French officer's moustache.
"Who are you?" asked the Colonel.
"I am a Rathsherr, a Stemhagen Rathsherr," replied my uncle.
This seemed to take the Colonel by surprise. He walked up and down and at last stood still before my uncle and said: "I do not see any advantage for the Emperor Napoleon in my dragging you about the country any longer. You can go."
Now this was not the sort of thing my uncle was used to.--"Sir!" he cried: "this treatment...."
"I am truly sorry," interrupted the Colonel, "that you should have been put to such inconvenience. You must have been taken up entirely by mistake."
This was a little too strong for my uncle. All along the road and through the wintry night, he had comforted himself with the reflection that he was the chosen victim of the "Corsican dragon," and now it was all said to be a pure mistake. He had, in his innocence, reckoned at the very least on a public apology before a whole French regiment, and here was he being, as it were, kicked out and told--"he might go!"
"To take up a man like me by mistake!" cried he.
"You may think yourself fortunate," said the Colonel, tapping him on the shoulder and smiling pleasantly, "worse things than that often happen in war; many a one gets shot by mistake. Look upon this as a trial sent by God."
"If this is to be called a trial," said my uncle, "it's a very stupid one."
The Colonel laughed and passed his arm under the Rathsherr's: "Come with me, Herr Rathsherr. I am right glad the matter has ended thus and that I have been able to do what the Herr Amtshauptmann asked. And I have a few words to say to you in secret."
'In secret,' those were two words that my uncle Herse could not resist, so he went with him.
"Herr Rathsherr," said the Colonel, when they were out in the market-place, and stood before the door of the "Golden Button," which was the Colonel's head quarters; "Herr Rathsherr, tell the good old Herr Amtshauptmann, with my kindest regards, that I have fortunately been able to comply with his request; and beg him in return to comply with mine,--which is that, if it can be done with justice, he should give the money that finds no owner to the young girl who brought me his letter yesterday on the road, here. And you will yourself see, Herr Rathsherr, that this must be kept secret, as else the Herr Amtshauptmann might be suspected."
My uncle Herse was now, once more, in his element--: "You mean Fieka?" he asked eagerly; "Miller Voss's Fieka who is standing out there?" and he pointed to Fieka, who was standing a little way off with her father,--her arm round his neck and crying for joy.
"Yes, I mean her," said the Colonel and he went up to the two.
Fieka drew her arm from round her father's neck, but she could not prevent the tears from flowing, and as the Colonel came nearer, she felt as if she must cry all the more; when he gave her his hand she curtseyed silently, for she could not bring out a word. As long as anxiety, like a dark night, had lain upon her, she had gone steadily on her way without looking either to right or left,--trust in God her sole guiding-star; but now that the sun had risen, she stood still; her heart opened like a beautiful rose to the light; as the fresh morning's breeze plays in its leaves, so her thoughts could now wander hither and thither, to the right and to the left, behind her and before her, and her tears fell like the morning dew.
The old Miller, too, stood silent before the Colonel; but when he was asked if he was the father of the young girl, the words came out in a torrent.
"Yes, sir," said he. "And though it's true what our Herr Amtshauptmann says, that boys are better than girls, girls are always crying--for they are that, sir, as you can see in Fieka"--and, as he spoke, he wiped the tears from his own eyes--"still I don't know what better I can wish you, for your goodness to us, than that God may some day send you a little daughter like my Fieka."
The Colonel no doubt thought so too, though he did not say so. He turned quickly towards Fieka, and asked: "Can you write?"
"Yes, Herr," said Fieka, and made a curtsey.
"She can do everything," said the Miller; "She can write and read writing like a schoolmaster, for she has to do all my writing."
"Well, then, my little one," said the Colonel, "write your name and the place where you were born, in here; but in Platt-deutsch, mind."
And Fieka wrote in the Colonel's pocket-book, "Fieka Voss, born at the Gielow Mill in the parish of Stemhagen." The Colonel read it, shut up his pocket-book, gave her and her father his hand, and went away with the words: "Good-bye! We may perhaps meet again some day."