The cows were led out and put into
the boat, the chickens were also taken along in a coop, and the
dog was constantly running to and fro.
the boat, the chickens were also taken along in a coop, and the
dog was constantly running to and fro.
Warner - World's Best Literature - v02 - Aqu to Bag
Made-
moiselle Kramer was about to let him do so, but Walpurga ob-
jected. "Before the child is christened," said she, "no one shall
look at it just out of curiosity, and least of all a tailor, or else
the child will never turn out the right sort of man. ”
The tailor took his leave, Mademoiselle Kramer having po-
litely hinted to him that nothing could be done with the super-
stition of the lower orders, and that it would not do to irritate
the nurse.
This occurrence induced Walpurga to administer the first seri-
ous reprimand to Mademoiselle Kramer. She could not under-
stand why she was so willing to make an exhibition of the
child. «<
Nothing does a child more harm than to let strangers
look at it in its sleep, and a tailor at that. "
All the wild fun with which, in popular songs, tailors are
held up to scorn and ridicule, found vent in Walpurga, and she
began singing:-
"Just list, ye braves, who love to roam!
A snail was chasing a tailor home.
And if Old Shears hadn't run so fast,
The snail would surely have caught him at last. "
## p. 972 (#398) ############################################
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BERTHOLD AUERBACH
Mademoiselle Kramer's acquaintance with the court tailor had
lowered her in Walpurga's esteem; and with an evident effort
to mollify the latter, Mademoiselle Kramer asked: -
"Does the idea of your new and beautiful clothes really afford
you no pleasure ? »
"To be frank with you, no! I don't wear them for my own
sake, but for that of others, who dress me to please themselves.
It's all the same to me, however! I've given myself up to them,
and suppose I must submit. "
"May I come in? " asked a pleasant voice. Countess Irma
entered the room. Extending both her hands to Walpurga, she
said:-
"God greet you, my countrywoman! I am also from the
Highlands, seven hours distance from your village. I know it
well, and once sailed over the lake with your father. Does he
still live? "
"Alas! no: he was drowned, and the lake hasn't given up its
dead. "
"He was a fine-looking old man, and you are the very image
of him. "
"I am glad to find some one else here who knew my father.
The court tailor-I mean the court doctor- knew him too.
Yes, search the land through, you couldn't have found a better
man than my father, and no one can help but admit it. "
«Yes:
I've often heard as much. "
"May I ask your Ladyship's name? "
"Countess Wildenort. "
"Wildenort? I've heard the name before. Yes, I remember
my mother's mentioning it. Your father was known as a very
Has he been dead a long while? "
kind and benevolent man.
"No, he is still living. "
"Is he here too? "
"No. "
"And as what are you here, Countess? "
"As maid of honor. "
"And what is that? "
Being attached to the Queen's person; or what, in your part
of the country, would be called a companion. "
<<
And is your father willing to let them use you
"Indeed!
that way? "
Irma, who was somewhat annoyed by her questions, said:—
## p. 973 (#399) ############################################
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
973
"I wished to ask you something-Can you write? "
"I once could, but I've quite forgotten how. "
"Then I've just hit it! that's the very reason for my coming
here. Now, whenever you wish to write home, you can dictate
your letter to me, and I will write whatever you tell me to. "
"I could have done that too," suggested Mademoiselle Kramer,
timidly; "and your Ladyship would not have needed to trouble
yourself. "
"No, the Countess will write for me.
Shall it be now? "
"Certainly. "
While she was in the
But Walpurga had to go to the child.
next room, Countess Irma and Mademoiselle Kramer engaged
each other in conversation.
When Walpurga returned, she found Irma, pen in hand, and
at once began to dictate.
Translation of S. A. Stern.
THE FIRST FALSE STEP
From On the Heights'
THE
HE ball was to be given in the palace and the adjoining win-
ter garden. The intendant now informed Irma of his plan,
and was delighted to find that she approved of it. At the
end of the garden he intended to erect a large fountain, orna-
mented with antique groups. In the foreground he meant to
have trees and shrubbery and various kinds of rocks, so that
none could approach too closely; and the background was to be
a Grecian landscape, painted in the grand style.
Irma promised to keep his secret. Suddenly she exclaimed,
"We are all of us no better than lackeys and kitchen-maids. We
are kept busy stewing, roasting, and cooking for weeks, in order
to prepare a dish that may please their Majesties. "
The intendant made no reply.
"Do you remember," continued Irma, "how, when we were
at the lake, we spoke of the fact that man possessed the advan-
tage of being able to change his dress, and thus to alter his
appearance? While yet a child, masquerading was my greatest
delight. The soul wings its flight in callow infancy. A bal
costume is indeed one of the noblest fruits of culture. The love
of coquetry which is innate with all of us displays itself there
undisguised. "
## p. 974 (#400) ############################################
974
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
The intendant took his leave.
While walking away, his mind.
was filled with his old thoughts about Irma.
"No," said he to himself, such a woman would be a constant
strain, and would require one to be brilliant and intellectual all
day long. She would exhaust one," said he, almost aloud.
No one knew what character Irma intended to appear in,
although many supposed that it would be as "Victory," since it
was well known that she had stood for the model of the statue
that surmounted the arsenal. They were busy conjecturing how
she could assume that character without violating the social
proprieties.
Irma spent much of her time in the atelier, and worked
assiduously. She was unable to escape a feeling of unrest, far
greater than that she had experienced years ago when looking
forward to her first ball. She could not reconcile herself to the
idea of preparing for the fête so long beforehand, and would
like to have had it take place in the very next hour, so that
something else might be taken up at once. The long delay
tried her patience. She almost envied those beings to whom the
preparation for pleasure affords the greatest part of the enjoy-
ment. Work alone calmed her unrest. She had something to
do, and this prevented the thoughts of the festival from enga-
ging her mind during the day. It was only in the evening that
she would recompense herself for the day's work, by giving full
swing to her fancy.
The statue of Victory was still in the atelier and was almost
finished. High ladders were placed beside it. The artist was
still chiseling at the figure, and would now and then hurry down
to observe the general effect, and then hastily mount the ladder
again in order to add a touch here or there. Irma scarcely
ventured to look up at this effigy of herself in Grecian cos-
tume-transformed and yet herself. The idea of being thus
translated into the purest of art's forms filled her with a tremor,
half joy, half fear.
It was on a winter afternoon. Irma was working assiduously
at a copy of a bust of Theseus, for it was growing dark. Near
her stood her preceptor's marble bust of Doctor Gunther. All
was silent; not a sound was heard save now and then the pick-
ing or scratching of the chisel.
At that moment the master descended the ladder, and drawing
a deep breath, said:-
## p. 975 (#401) ############################################
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
975
"There that will do. One can never finish. I shall not
put another stroke to it. I am afraid that retouching would
only injure it. It is done. "
In the master's words and manner, struggling effort and calm
content seemed mingled. He laid the chisel aside. Irma looked
at him earnestly and said:-
"You are
a happy man; but I can imagine that you are
still unsatisfied. I don't believe that even Raphael or Michael
Angelo was ever satisfied with the work he had completed.
The remnant of dissatisfaction which an artist feels at the com-
pletion of a work is the germ of a new creation. "
The master nodded his approval of her words.
His eyes
expressed his thanks. He went to the water-tap and washed his
hands. Then he placed himself near Irma and looked at her,
while telling her that in every work an artist parts with a portion
of his life; that the figure will never again inspire the same feel-
ings that it did while in the workshop. Viewed from afar, and
serving as an ornament, no regard would be had to the care
bestowed upon details. But the artist's great satisfaction in his
work is in having pleased himself; and yet no one can accurately
determine how, or to what extent, a conscientious working up of
details will influence the general effect.
While the master was speaking, the King was announced.
Irma hurriedly spread a damp cloth over her clay model.
The King entered. He was unattended, and begged Irma not
to allow herself to be disturbed in her work. Without looking up,
she went on with her modeling. The King was earnest in his
praise of the master's work.
"The grandeur that dwells in this figure will show posterity
what our days have beheld. I am proud of such contemporaries. "
Irma felt that the words applied to her as well. Her heart
throbbed. The plaster which stood before her suddenly seemed
to gaze at her with a strange expression.
"I should like to compare the finished work with the first
models," said the king to the artist.
"I regret that the experimental models are in my small ate-
lier.
Does your Majesty wish me to have them brought here ? »
"If you will be good enough to do so. "
The master left. The King and Irma were alone. With rapid
steps the King mounted the ladder, and exclaimed in a tremulous.
voice:
## p. 976 (#402) ############################################
976
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
"I ascend into heaven-I ascend to you. Irma, I kiss you, I
kiss your image, and may this kiss forever rest upon those lips,
enduring beyond all time. I kiss thee with the kiss of eternity. "
He stood aloft and kissed the lips of the statue. Irma could not
help looking up, and just at that moment a slanting sunbeam fell
on the King and on the face of the marble figure, making it
glow as if with life.
Irma felt as if wrapped in a fiery cloud, bearing her away
into eternity.
The King descended and placed himself beside her. His
breathing was short and quick. She did not dare to look up;
she stood as silent and as immovable as a statue. Then the
King embraced her-and living lips kissed each other.
Translation of S. A. Stern.
THE NEW HOME AND THE OLD ONE
From On the Heights'
H
ANSEI received various offers for his cottage, and was always
provoked when it was spoken of as a "tumble-down old
shanty. " He always looked as if he meant to say, "Don't
take it ill of me, good old house: the people only abuse you so
that they may get you cheap. " Hansei stood his ground. He
would not sell his home for a penny less than it was worth; and
besides that, he owned the fishing-right, which was also worth
something. Grubersepp at last took the house off his hands,
with the design of putting a servant of his, who intended to
marry in the fall, in possession of the place.
All the villagers were kind and friendly to them,-doubly so
since they were about to leave, and Hansei said:—
"It hurts me to think that I must leave a single enemy
behind me. I'd like to make it up with the innkeeper. ”
Walpurga agreed with him, and said that she would go along;
that she had really been the cause of the trouble, and that if
the innkeeper wanted to scold any one, he might as well scold
her too.
Hansei did not want his wife to go along, but she insisted
upon it.
It was in the last evening in August that they went up into
the village. Their hearts beat violently while they drew near to
## p. 977 (#403) ############################################
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
977
They groped about
Dachsel and Wachsel,
Hansei called out:
the inn. There was no light in the room.
the porch, but not a soul was to be seen.
however, were making a heathenish racket.
"Is there no one at home? "
"No. There's no one at home," answered a voice from the
dark room.
"Well, then tell the host, when he returns, that Hansei and
his wife were here, and that they came to ask him to forgive
them if they've done him any wrong; and to say that they for-
give him too, and wish him luck. "
"All right: I'll tell him," said the voice. The door was again
slammed to, and Dachsel and Wachsel began barking again.
Hansei and Walpurga returned homeward.
"Do you know who that was? " asked Hansei.
"Why, yes: 'twas the innkeeper himself. "
"Well, we've done all we could. "
They found it sad to part from all the villagers. They list-
ened to the lovely tones of the bell which they had heard every
hour since childhood. Although their hearts were full, they did
not say a word about the sadness of parting. Hansei at last
broke silence:-"Our new home isn't out of the world: we can
often come here. "
When they reached the cottage they found that nearly all of
the villagers had assembled in order to bid them farewell, but
every one added, "I'll see you again in the morning. "
Grubersepp also came again. He had been proud enough
before; but now he was doubly so, for he had made a man of
his neighbor, or at all events had helped to do so. He did not
give way to tender sentiment. He condensed all his knowledge.
of life into a few sentences, which he delivered himself of most
bluntly.
"I only want to tell you," said he, "you'll have lots of serv-
ants now. Take my word for it, the best of them are good for
nothing; but something may be made of them for all that. He
who would have his servants mow well, must take the scythe in
hand himself. And since you got your riches so quickly, don't
forget the proverb: 'Light come, light go. Keep steady, or it'll
go ill with you. "
He gave him much more good advice, and Hansei accompa-
nied him all the way back to his house. With a silent pressure
of the hand they took leave of each other.
11-62
## p. 978 (#404) ############################################
978
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
The house seemed empty, for quite a number of chests and
boxes had been sent in advance by a boat that was already cross-
ing the lake. On the following morning two teams would be in
waiting on the other side.
"So this is the last time that we go to bed in this house,"
said the mother. They were all fatigued with work and excite-
ment, and yet none of them cared to go to bed. At last, how-
ever, they could not help doing so, although they slept but little.
The next morning they were up and about at an early hour.
Having attired themselves in their best clothes, they bundled up
the beds and carried them into the boat. The mother kindled
the last fire on the hearth.
The cows were led out and put into
the boat, the chickens were also taken along in a coop, and the
dog was constantly running to and fro.
The hour of parting had come.
The mother uttered a prayer, and then called all of them
into the kitchen. She scooped up some water from the pail and
poured it into the fire, with these words:-"May all that's evil
be thus poured out and extinguished, and let those who light a
fire after us find nothing but health in their home. "
Hansei, Walpurga, and Gundel were each of them obliged
to pour a ladleful of water into the fire, and the grandmother
guided the child's hand while it did the same thing.
After they had all silently performed this ceremony, the
grandmother prayed aloud:
"Take from us, O Lord our God, all heartache and home-
sickness and all trouble, and grant us health and a happy home
where we next kindle our fire. "
She was the first to cross the threshold. She had the child in
her arms and covered its eyes with her hands while she called
out to the others:-
"Don't look back when you go out. "
"Just wait a moment," said Hansei to Walpurga when he
found himself alone with her. "Before we cross this threshold
for the last time, I've something to tell you. I must tell it. I
mean to be a righteous man and to keep nothing concealed from
you. I must tell you this, Walpurga. While you were away
and Black Esther lived up yonder, I once came very near being
wicked- and unfaithful—thank God, I wasn't. But it torments
me to think that I ever wanted to be bad;
forgive me and God will forgive me, too.
and now, Walpurga,
Now I've told you,
## p. 979 (#405) ############################################
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
979
and have nothing more to tell. If I were to appear before God
this moment, I'd know of nothing more. "
Walpurga embraced him, and sobbing, said, "You're my dear
good husband! " and they crossed the threshold for the last time.
When they reached the garden, Hansei paused, looked up at
the cherry-tree, and said: -
"And so you remain here. Won't you come with us? We've
always been good friends, and spent many an hour together.
But wait! I'll take you with me, after all," cried he, joyfully,
"and I'll plant you in my new home. "
He carefully dug out a shoot that was sprouting up from one
of the roots of the tree. He stuck it in his hat-band, and went
to join his wife at the boat.
From the landing-place on the bank were heard the merry
sounds of fiddles, clarinets, and trumpets.
Hansei hastened to the landing-place. The whole village had
congregated there, and with it the full band of music. Tailor
Schneck's son, he who had been one of the cuirassiers at the
christening of the crown prince, had arranged and was now con-
ducting the parting ceremonies. Schneck, who was scraping his
bass-viol, was the first to see Hansei, and called out in the midst
of the music:-
"Long live farmer Hansei and the one he loves best! Hip,
hip, hurrah! "
The early dawn resounded with their cheers. There was a
flourish of trumpets, and the salutes fired from several small
mortars were echoed back from the mountains. The large boat
in which their household furniture, the two cows, and the fowls
were placed, was adorned with wreaths of fir and oak. Wal-
purga was standing in the middle of the boat, and with both
hands held the child aloft, so that it might see the great crowd
of friends and the lake sparkling in the rosy dawn.
"My master's best respects," said one of Grubersepp's serv-
ants, leading a snow-white colt by the halter: "he sends you
this to remember him by. ”
Grubersepp was not present. He disliked noise and crowds.
He was of a solitary and self-contained temperament. Neverthe-
less he sent a present which was not only of intrinsic value, but
was also a most flattering souvenir; for a colt is usually given by
a rich farmer to a younger brother when about to depart.
In
the eyes of all the world-that is to say, the whole village —
Hansei appeared as the younger brother of Grubersepp.
## p. 980 (#406) ############################################
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BERTHOLD AUERBACH
Little Burgei shouted for joy when she saw them leading the
snow-white foal into the boat. Gruberwaldl, who was but six
years old, stood by the whinnying colt, stroking it and speaking
kindly to it.
"Would you like to go to the farm with me and be my serv-
ant? " asked Hansei of Gruberwaldl.
"Yes, indeed, if you'll take me. "
"See what a boy he is," said Hansei to his wife. "What a
boy! »
Walpurga made no answer, but busied herself with the child.
Hansei shook hands with every one at parting. His hand
trembled, but he did not forget to give a couple of crown thalers
to the musicians.
At last he got into the boat and exclaimed:
"Kind friends! I thank you all. Don't forget us, and we
shan't forget you. Farewell! may God protect you all. "
Walpurga and her mother were in tears.
"And now, in God's name, let us start! ” The chains were
loosened; the boat put off. Music, shouting, singing, and the
firing of cannon resounded while the boat quietly moved away
from the shore. The sun burst forth in all his glory.
The mother sat there, with her hands clasped.
All were
silent. The only sound heard was the neighing of the foal.
Walpurga was the first to break the silence. "O dear Lord!
if people would only show each other half as much love during
life as they do when one dies or moves away. "
The grandmother, who was in the middle of a prayer, shook
her head. She quickly finished her prayer and said:
"That's more than one has the right to ask. It won't do to
go about all day long with your heart in your hand.
But re-
member, I've always told you that the people are good enough
at heart, even if there are a few bad ones among them. "
Hansei bestowed an admiring glance upon his wife, who had
so many different thoughts about almost everything.
He sup-
posed it was caused by her having been away from home.
his heart was full, too, although in a different way.
But
"I can hardly realize," said Hansei, taking a long breath and
putting the pipe, which he had intended to light, back into his
pocket, "what has become of all the years that I spent there and
all that I went through during the time.
road you see there leads to my home.
every hollow. My mother's buried there.
Look, Walpurga! the
I know every hill and
Do you see the pines
――
## p. 981 (#407) ############################################
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
981
growing on the hill over yonder? That hill was quite bare;
every tree was cut down when the French were here; and see
how fine and hardy the trees are now. I planted most of them
myself. I was a little boy about eleven or twelve years old
when the forester hired me. He had fresh soil brought for the
whole place and covered the rocky spots with moss. In the
spring I worked from six in the morning till seven in the even-
ing, putting in the little plants. My left hand was almost frozen,
for I had to keep putting it into a tub of wet loam, with which
I covered the roots. I was scantily clothed into the bargain, and
had nothing to eat all day long but a piece of bread. In the
morning it was cold enough to freeze the marrow in one's bones,
and at noon I was almost roasted by the hot sun beating on the
rocks. It was a hard life. Yes, I had a hard time of it when
I was young.
Thank God, it hasn't harmed me any. But I
shan't forget it; and let's be right industrious and give all we
can to the poor. I never would have believed that I'd live to
call a single tree or a handful of earth my own; and now that
God has given me so much, let's try and deserve it all. "
Hansei's eyes blinked, as if there was something in them, and
he pulled his hat down over his forehead. Now, while he was
pulling himself up by the roots as it were, he could not help
thinking of how thoroughly he had become engrafted into the
neighborhood by the work of his hands and by habit. He had
felled many a tree, but he knew full well how hard it was to
remove the stumps.
The foal grew restive.
Gruberwaldl, who had come with
them in order to hold it, was not strong enough, and one of the
boatmen was obliged to go to his assistance.
«< Stay with the foal," said Hansei. "I'll take the oar. "
"And I too," cried Walpurga. "Who knows when I'll have
another chance? Ah! how often I've rowed on the lake with
you and my blessed father. "
Hansei and Walpurga sat side by side plying their oars in
perfect time. It did them both good to have some employment
which would enable them to work off the excitement.
"I shall miss the water," said Walpurga; "without the lake,
life'll seem so dull and dry. I felt that, while I was in the city. "
Hansei did not answer.
"At the summer palace there's a pond with swans swimming
about in it," said she, but still received no answer. She looked
## p. 982 (#408) ############################################
982
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
around, and a feeling of anger arose within her. When she said
anything at the palace, it was always listened to.
In a sorrowful tone she added, "It would have been better if
we'd moved in the spring; it would have been much easier to
get used to things. "
"Maybe it would," replied Hansei, at last, "but I've got to
hew wood in the winter. Walpurga, let's make life pleasant to
each other, and not sad. I shall have enough on my shoulders,
and can't have you and your palace thoughts besides. "
Walpurga quickly answered, "I'll throw this ring, which the
Queen gave me, into the lake, to prove that I've stopped thinking
of the palace. "
"There's no need of that. The ring's worth a nice sum, and
besides that it's an honorable keepsake. You must do just as I
do. "
"Yes; only remain strong and true. "
The grandmother suddenly stood up before them. Her feat-
ures were illumined with a strange expression, and she said :-
-
"Children! Hold fast to the good fortune that you have.
You've gone through fire and water together; for it was fire
when you
were surrounded by joy and love and every one
greeted you with kindness-and you passed through the water,
when the wickedness of others stung you to the soul. At that
time the water was up to your neck, and yet you weren't
drowned. Now you've got over it all. And when my last hour
comes, don't weep for me; for through you I've enjoyed all the
happiness a mother's heart can have in this world. "
She knelt down, scooped up some water with her hand, and
sprinkled it over Hansei's and also over Walpurga's face.
They rowed on in silence. The grandmother laid her head
on a roll of bedding and closed her eyes. Her face wore a
strange expression. After a while she opened her eyes again,
and casting a glance full of happiness on her children, she said:
"Sing and be merry. Sing the song that father and I so
often sang together; that one verse, the good one. "
Hansei and Walpurga plied the oars while they sang:-
"Ah, blissful is the tender tie
That binds me, love, to thee;
And swiftly speed the hours by,
When thou art near to me. "
## p. 983 (#409) ############################################
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
983
They repeated the verse again, although at times the joyous
shouting of the child and the neighing of the foal bade fair to
interrupt it.
As they drew near the house, they could hear the neighing
of the white foal.
"That's a good beginning," cried Hansei.
The grandmother placed the child on the ground, and got
her hymn-book out of the chest. Pressing the book against her
breast with both hands, she went into the house, being the first
to enter. Hansei, who was standing near the stable, took a piece
of chalk from his pocket and wrote the letters C. M. B. , and the
date, on the stable door. Then he too went into the house,-
his wife, Irma, and the child following him.
Before going into the sitting-room the grandmother knocked
thrice at the door. When she had entered she placed the open
hymn-book upon the open window-sill, so that the sun might
read in it. There were no tables or chairs in the room.
Hansei shook hands with his wife and said, "God be with
you, freeholder's wife. "
From that moment Walpurga was known as the "freeholder's
wife," and was never called by any other name.
And now they showed Irma her room. The view extended
over meadow and brook and the neighboring forest. She exam-
ined the room. There was naught but a green Dutch oven and
bare walls, and she had brought nothing with her. In her
paternal mansion, and at the castle, there were chairs and tables,
horses and carriages; but here None of these follow the dead.
Irma knelt by the window and gazed out over meadow and
forest, where the sun was now shining.
How was it yesterday-was it only yesterday when you saw
the sun go down?
Her thoughts were confused and indistinct. She pressed her
hand to her forehead; the white handkerchief was still there. A
bird looked up to her from the meadow, and when her glance
rested upon it it flew away into the woods.
"The bird has its nest," said she to herself, "and I-”
Suddenly she drew herself up. Hansei had walked out to the
grass plot in front of Irma's window, removed the slip of the
cherry-tree from his hat, and planted it in the ground.
## p. 984 (#410) ############################################
984
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
The grandmother stood by and said, "I trust that you'll be
alive and hearty long enough to climb this tree and gather
cherries from it, and that your children and grandchildren may
do the same. "
There was much to do and to set to rights in the house, and
on such occasions it usually happens that those who are dearest
to one another are as much in each other's way as closets and
tables which have not yet been placed where they belong. The
best proof of the amiability of these folks was that they assisted
each other cheerfully, and indeed with jest and song.
Walpurga moved her best furniture into Irma's room. Hansei
did not interpose a word. "Aren't you too lonely here? " asked
Walpurga, after she had arranged everything as well as possible
in so short a time.
"Not at all.
There is no place in all the world lonely enough
for me.
You've so much to do now; don't worry about me. I
must now arrange things within myself. I see how good you
and yours are; fate has directed me kindly. "
"Oh, don't talk in that way. If you hadn't given me the
money, how could we have bought the farm? This is really
your own. "
"Don't speak of that," said Irma, with a sudden start. "Never
mention that money to me again. "
Walpurga promised, and merely added that Irma needn't be
alarmed at the old man who lived in the room above hers, and
who at times would talk to himself and make a loud noise. He
was old and blind. The children teased and worried him, but he
wasn't bad and would harm no one. Walpurga offered at all
events to leave Gundel with Irma for the first night; but Irma
preferred to be alone.
"You'll stay with us, won't you? " said Walpurga hesitat-
ingly. "You won't have such bad thoughts again? "
"No, never. But don't talk now: my voice pains me, and
so does yours too. Good-night! leave me alone. "
Irma sat by the window and gazed out into the dark night.
Was it only a day since she had passed through such terrors?
Suddenly she sprang from her seat with a shudder. She had
seen Black Esther's head rising out of the darkness, had again
heard her dying shriek, had beheld the distorted face and the
wild black tresses.
moiselle Kramer was about to let him do so, but Walpurga ob-
jected. "Before the child is christened," said she, "no one shall
look at it just out of curiosity, and least of all a tailor, or else
the child will never turn out the right sort of man. ”
The tailor took his leave, Mademoiselle Kramer having po-
litely hinted to him that nothing could be done with the super-
stition of the lower orders, and that it would not do to irritate
the nurse.
This occurrence induced Walpurga to administer the first seri-
ous reprimand to Mademoiselle Kramer. She could not under-
stand why she was so willing to make an exhibition of the
child. «<
Nothing does a child more harm than to let strangers
look at it in its sleep, and a tailor at that. "
All the wild fun with which, in popular songs, tailors are
held up to scorn and ridicule, found vent in Walpurga, and she
began singing:-
"Just list, ye braves, who love to roam!
A snail was chasing a tailor home.
And if Old Shears hadn't run so fast,
The snail would surely have caught him at last. "
## p. 972 (#398) ############################################
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BERTHOLD AUERBACH
Mademoiselle Kramer's acquaintance with the court tailor had
lowered her in Walpurga's esteem; and with an evident effort
to mollify the latter, Mademoiselle Kramer asked: -
"Does the idea of your new and beautiful clothes really afford
you no pleasure ? »
"To be frank with you, no! I don't wear them for my own
sake, but for that of others, who dress me to please themselves.
It's all the same to me, however! I've given myself up to them,
and suppose I must submit. "
"May I come in? " asked a pleasant voice. Countess Irma
entered the room. Extending both her hands to Walpurga, she
said:-
"God greet you, my countrywoman! I am also from the
Highlands, seven hours distance from your village. I know it
well, and once sailed over the lake with your father. Does he
still live? "
"Alas! no: he was drowned, and the lake hasn't given up its
dead. "
"He was a fine-looking old man, and you are the very image
of him. "
"I am glad to find some one else here who knew my father.
The court tailor-I mean the court doctor- knew him too.
Yes, search the land through, you couldn't have found a better
man than my father, and no one can help but admit it. "
«Yes:
I've often heard as much. "
"May I ask your Ladyship's name? "
"Countess Wildenort. "
"Wildenort? I've heard the name before. Yes, I remember
my mother's mentioning it. Your father was known as a very
Has he been dead a long while? "
kind and benevolent man.
"No, he is still living. "
"Is he here too? "
"No. "
"And as what are you here, Countess? "
"As maid of honor. "
"And what is that? "
Being attached to the Queen's person; or what, in your part
of the country, would be called a companion. "
<<
And is your father willing to let them use you
"Indeed!
that way? "
Irma, who was somewhat annoyed by her questions, said:—
## p. 973 (#399) ############################################
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
973
"I wished to ask you something-Can you write? "
"I once could, but I've quite forgotten how. "
"Then I've just hit it! that's the very reason for my coming
here. Now, whenever you wish to write home, you can dictate
your letter to me, and I will write whatever you tell me to. "
"I could have done that too," suggested Mademoiselle Kramer,
timidly; "and your Ladyship would not have needed to trouble
yourself. "
"No, the Countess will write for me.
Shall it be now? "
"Certainly. "
While she was in the
But Walpurga had to go to the child.
next room, Countess Irma and Mademoiselle Kramer engaged
each other in conversation.
When Walpurga returned, she found Irma, pen in hand, and
at once began to dictate.
Translation of S. A. Stern.
THE FIRST FALSE STEP
From On the Heights'
THE
HE ball was to be given in the palace and the adjoining win-
ter garden. The intendant now informed Irma of his plan,
and was delighted to find that she approved of it. At the
end of the garden he intended to erect a large fountain, orna-
mented with antique groups. In the foreground he meant to
have trees and shrubbery and various kinds of rocks, so that
none could approach too closely; and the background was to be
a Grecian landscape, painted in the grand style.
Irma promised to keep his secret. Suddenly she exclaimed,
"We are all of us no better than lackeys and kitchen-maids. We
are kept busy stewing, roasting, and cooking for weeks, in order
to prepare a dish that may please their Majesties. "
The intendant made no reply.
"Do you remember," continued Irma, "how, when we were
at the lake, we spoke of the fact that man possessed the advan-
tage of being able to change his dress, and thus to alter his
appearance? While yet a child, masquerading was my greatest
delight. The soul wings its flight in callow infancy. A bal
costume is indeed one of the noblest fruits of culture. The love
of coquetry which is innate with all of us displays itself there
undisguised. "
## p. 974 (#400) ############################################
974
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
The intendant took his leave.
While walking away, his mind.
was filled with his old thoughts about Irma.
"No," said he to himself, such a woman would be a constant
strain, and would require one to be brilliant and intellectual all
day long. She would exhaust one," said he, almost aloud.
No one knew what character Irma intended to appear in,
although many supposed that it would be as "Victory," since it
was well known that she had stood for the model of the statue
that surmounted the arsenal. They were busy conjecturing how
she could assume that character without violating the social
proprieties.
Irma spent much of her time in the atelier, and worked
assiduously. She was unable to escape a feeling of unrest, far
greater than that she had experienced years ago when looking
forward to her first ball. She could not reconcile herself to the
idea of preparing for the fête so long beforehand, and would
like to have had it take place in the very next hour, so that
something else might be taken up at once. The long delay
tried her patience. She almost envied those beings to whom the
preparation for pleasure affords the greatest part of the enjoy-
ment. Work alone calmed her unrest. She had something to
do, and this prevented the thoughts of the festival from enga-
ging her mind during the day. It was only in the evening that
she would recompense herself for the day's work, by giving full
swing to her fancy.
The statue of Victory was still in the atelier and was almost
finished. High ladders were placed beside it. The artist was
still chiseling at the figure, and would now and then hurry down
to observe the general effect, and then hastily mount the ladder
again in order to add a touch here or there. Irma scarcely
ventured to look up at this effigy of herself in Grecian cos-
tume-transformed and yet herself. The idea of being thus
translated into the purest of art's forms filled her with a tremor,
half joy, half fear.
It was on a winter afternoon. Irma was working assiduously
at a copy of a bust of Theseus, for it was growing dark. Near
her stood her preceptor's marble bust of Doctor Gunther. All
was silent; not a sound was heard save now and then the pick-
ing or scratching of the chisel.
At that moment the master descended the ladder, and drawing
a deep breath, said:-
## p. 975 (#401) ############################################
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
975
"There that will do. One can never finish. I shall not
put another stroke to it. I am afraid that retouching would
only injure it. It is done. "
In the master's words and manner, struggling effort and calm
content seemed mingled. He laid the chisel aside. Irma looked
at him earnestly and said:-
"You are
a happy man; but I can imagine that you are
still unsatisfied. I don't believe that even Raphael or Michael
Angelo was ever satisfied with the work he had completed.
The remnant of dissatisfaction which an artist feels at the com-
pletion of a work is the germ of a new creation. "
The master nodded his approval of her words.
His eyes
expressed his thanks. He went to the water-tap and washed his
hands. Then he placed himself near Irma and looked at her,
while telling her that in every work an artist parts with a portion
of his life; that the figure will never again inspire the same feel-
ings that it did while in the workshop. Viewed from afar, and
serving as an ornament, no regard would be had to the care
bestowed upon details. But the artist's great satisfaction in his
work is in having pleased himself; and yet no one can accurately
determine how, or to what extent, a conscientious working up of
details will influence the general effect.
While the master was speaking, the King was announced.
Irma hurriedly spread a damp cloth over her clay model.
The King entered. He was unattended, and begged Irma not
to allow herself to be disturbed in her work. Without looking up,
she went on with her modeling. The King was earnest in his
praise of the master's work.
"The grandeur that dwells in this figure will show posterity
what our days have beheld. I am proud of such contemporaries. "
Irma felt that the words applied to her as well. Her heart
throbbed. The plaster which stood before her suddenly seemed
to gaze at her with a strange expression.
"I should like to compare the finished work with the first
models," said the king to the artist.
"I regret that the experimental models are in my small ate-
lier.
Does your Majesty wish me to have them brought here ? »
"If you will be good enough to do so. "
The master left. The King and Irma were alone. With rapid
steps the King mounted the ladder, and exclaimed in a tremulous.
voice:
## p. 976 (#402) ############################################
976
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
"I ascend into heaven-I ascend to you. Irma, I kiss you, I
kiss your image, and may this kiss forever rest upon those lips,
enduring beyond all time. I kiss thee with the kiss of eternity. "
He stood aloft and kissed the lips of the statue. Irma could not
help looking up, and just at that moment a slanting sunbeam fell
on the King and on the face of the marble figure, making it
glow as if with life.
Irma felt as if wrapped in a fiery cloud, bearing her away
into eternity.
The King descended and placed himself beside her. His
breathing was short and quick. She did not dare to look up;
she stood as silent and as immovable as a statue. Then the
King embraced her-and living lips kissed each other.
Translation of S. A. Stern.
THE NEW HOME AND THE OLD ONE
From On the Heights'
H
ANSEI received various offers for his cottage, and was always
provoked when it was spoken of as a "tumble-down old
shanty. " He always looked as if he meant to say, "Don't
take it ill of me, good old house: the people only abuse you so
that they may get you cheap. " Hansei stood his ground. He
would not sell his home for a penny less than it was worth; and
besides that, he owned the fishing-right, which was also worth
something. Grubersepp at last took the house off his hands,
with the design of putting a servant of his, who intended to
marry in the fall, in possession of the place.
All the villagers were kind and friendly to them,-doubly so
since they were about to leave, and Hansei said:—
"It hurts me to think that I must leave a single enemy
behind me. I'd like to make it up with the innkeeper. ”
Walpurga agreed with him, and said that she would go along;
that she had really been the cause of the trouble, and that if
the innkeeper wanted to scold any one, he might as well scold
her too.
Hansei did not want his wife to go along, but she insisted
upon it.
It was in the last evening in August that they went up into
the village. Their hearts beat violently while they drew near to
## p. 977 (#403) ############################################
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
977
They groped about
Dachsel and Wachsel,
Hansei called out:
the inn. There was no light in the room.
the porch, but not a soul was to be seen.
however, were making a heathenish racket.
"Is there no one at home? "
"No. There's no one at home," answered a voice from the
dark room.
"Well, then tell the host, when he returns, that Hansei and
his wife were here, and that they came to ask him to forgive
them if they've done him any wrong; and to say that they for-
give him too, and wish him luck. "
"All right: I'll tell him," said the voice. The door was again
slammed to, and Dachsel and Wachsel began barking again.
Hansei and Walpurga returned homeward.
"Do you know who that was? " asked Hansei.
"Why, yes: 'twas the innkeeper himself. "
"Well, we've done all we could. "
They found it sad to part from all the villagers. They list-
ened to the lovely tones of the bell which they had heard every
hour since childhood. Although their hearts were full, they did
not say a word about the sadness of parting. Hansei at last
broke silence:-"Our new home isn't out of the world: we can
often come here. "
When they reached the cottage they found that nearly all of
the villagers had assembled in order to bid them farewell, but
every one added, "I'll see you again in the morning. "
Grubersepp also came again. He had been proud enough
before; but now he was doubly so, for he had made a man of
his neighbor, or at all events had helped to do so. He did not
give way to tender sentiment. He condensed all his knowledge.
of life into a few sentences, which he delivered himself of most
bluntly.
"I only want to tell you," said he, "you'll have lots of serv-
ants now. Take my word for it, the best of them are good for
nothing; but something may be made of them for all that. He
who would have his servants mow well, must take the scythe in
hand himself. And since you got your riches so quickly, don't
forget the proverb: 'Light come, light go. Keep steady, or it'll
go ill with you. "
He gave him much more good advice, and Hansei accompa-
nied him all the way back to his house. With a silent pressure
of the hand they took leave of each other.
11-62
## p. 978 (#404) ############################################
978
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
The house seemed empty, for quite a number of chests and
boxes had been sent in advance by a boat that was already cross-
ing the lake. On the following morning two teams would be in
waiting on the other side.
"So this is the last time that we go to bed in this house,"
said the mother. They were all fatigued with work and excite-
ment, and yet none of them cared to go to bed. At last, how-
ever, they could not help doing so, although they slept but little.
The next morning they were up and about at an early hour.
Having attired themselves in their best clothes, they bundled up
the beds and carried them into the boat. The mother kindled
the last fire on the hearth.
The cows were led out and put into
the boat, the chickens were also taken along in a coop, and the
dog was constantly running to and fro.
The hour of parting had come.
The mother uttered a prayer, and then called all of them
into the kitchen. She scooped up some water from the pail and
poured it into the fire, with these words:-"May all that's evil
be thus poured out and extinguished, and let those who light a
fire after us find nothing but health in their home. "
Hansei, Walpurga, and Gundel were each of them obliged
to pour a ladleful of water into the fire, and the grandmother
guided the child's hand while it did the same thing.
After they had all silently performed this ceremony, the
grandmother prayed aloud:
"Take from us, O Lord our God, all heartache and home-
sickness and all trouble, and grant us health and a happy home
where we next kindle our fire. "
She was the first to cross the threshold. She had the child in
her arms and covered its eyes with her hands while she called
out to the others:-
"Don't look back when you go out. "
"Just wait a moment," said Hansei to Walpurga when he
found himself alone with her. "Before we cross this threshold
for the last time, I've something to tell you. I must tell it. I
mean to be a righteous man and to keep nothing concealed from
you. I must tell you this, Walpurga. While you were away
and Black Esther lived up yonder, I once came very near being
wicked- and unfaithful—thank God, I wasn't. But it torments
me to think that I ever wanted to be bad;
forgive me and God will forgive me, too.
and now, Walpurga,
Now I've told you,
## p. 979 (#405) ############################################
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
979
and have nothing more to tell. If I were to appear before God
this moment, I'd know of nothing more. "
Walpurga embraced him, and sobbing, said, "You're my dear
good husband! " and they crossed the threshold for the last time.
When they reached the garden, Hansei paused, looked up at
the cherry-tree, and said: -
"And so you remain here. Won't you come with us? We've
always been good friends, and spent many an hour together.
But wait! I'll take you with me, after all," cried he, joyfully,
"and I'll plant you in my new home. "
He carefully dug out a shoot that was sprouting up from one
of the roots of the tree. He stuck it in his hat-band, and went
to join his wife at the boat.
From the landing-place on the bank were heard the merry
sounds of fiddles, clarinets, and trumpets.
Hansei hastened to the landing-place. The whole village had
congregated there, and with it the full band of music. Tailor
Schneck's son, he who had been one of the cuirassiers at the
christening of the crown prince, had arranged and was now con-
ducting the parting ceremonies. Schneck, who was scraping his
bass-viol, was the first to see Hansei, and called out in the midst
of the music:-
"Long live farmer Hansei and the one he loves best! Hip,
hip, hurrah! "
The early dawn resounded with their cheers. There was a
flourish of trumpets, and the salutes fired from several small
mortars were echoed back from the mountains. The large boat
in which their household furniture, the two cows, and the fowls
were placed, was adorned with wreaths of fir and oak. Wal-
purga was standing in the middle of the boat, and with both
hands held the child aloft, so that it might see the great crowd
of friends and the lake sparkling in the rosy dawn.
"My master's best respects," said one of Grubersepp's serv-
ants, leading a snow-white colt by the halter: "he sends you
this to remember him by. ”
Grubersepp was not present. He disliked noise and crowds.
He was of a solitary and self-contained temperament. Neverthe-
less he sent a present which was not only of intrinsic value, but
was also a most flattering souvenir; for a colt is usually given by
a rich farmer to a younger brother when about to depart.
In
the eyes of all the world-that is to say, the whole village —
Hansei appeared as the younger brother of Grubersepp.
## p. 980 (#406) ############################################
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BERTHOLD AUERBACH
Little Burgei shouted for joy when she saw them leading the
snow-white foal into the boat. Gruberwaldl, who was but six
years old, stood by the whinnying colt, stroking it and speaking
kindly to it.
"Would you like to go to the farm with me and be my serv-
ant? " asked Hansei of Gruberwaldl.
"Yes, indeed, if you'll take me. "
"See what a boy he is," said Hansei to his wife. "What a
boy! »
Walpurga made no answer, but busied herself with the child.
Hansei shook hands with every one at parting. His hand
trembled, but he did not forget to give a couple of crown thalers
to the musicians.
At last he got into the boat and exclaimed:
"Kind friends! I thank you all. Don't forget us, and we
shan't forget you. Farewell! may God protect you all. "
Walpurga and her mother were in tears.
"And now, in God's name, let us start! ” The chains were
loosened; the boat put off. Music, shouting, singing, and the
firing of cannon resounded while the boat quietly moved away
from the shore. The sun burst forth in all his glory.
The mother sat there, with her hands clasped.
All were
silent. The only sound heard was the neighing of the foal.
Walpurga was the first to break the silence. "O dear Lord!
if people would only show each other half as much love during
life as they do when one dies or moves away. "
The grandmother, who was in the middle of a prayer, shook
her head. She quickly finished her prayer and said:
"That's more than one has the right to ask. It won't do to
go about all day long with your heart in your hand.
But re-
member, I've always told you that the people are good enough
at heart, even if there are a few bad ones among them. "
Hansei bestowed an admiring glance upon his wife, who had
so many different thoughts about almost everything.
He sup-
posed it was caused by her having been away from home.
his heart was full, too, although in a different way.
But
"I can hardly realize," said Hansei, taking a long breath and
putting the pipe, which he had intended to light, back into his
pocket, "what has become of all the years that I spent there and
all that I went through during the time.
road you see there leads to my home.
every hollow. My mother's buried there.
Look, Walpurga! the
I know every hill and
Do you see the pines
――
## p. 981 (#407) ############################################
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
981
growing on the hill over yonder? That hill was quite bare;
every tree was cut down when the French were here; and see
how fine and hardy the trees are now. I planted most of them
myself. I was a little boy about eleven or twelve years old
when the forester hired me. He had fresh soil brought for the
whole place and covered the rocky spots with moss. In the
spring I worked from six in the morning till seven in the even-
ing, putting in the little plants. My left hand was almost frozen,
for I had to keep putting it into a tub of wet loam, with which
I covered the roots. I was scantily clothed into the bargain, and
had nothing to eat all day long but a piece of bread. In the
morning it was cold enough to freeze the marrow in one's bones,
and at noon I was almost roasted by the hot sun beating on the
rocks. It was a hard life. Yes, I had a hard time of it when
I was young.
Thank God, it hasn't harmed me any. But I
shan't forget it; and let's be right industrious and give all we
can to the poor. I never would have believed that I'd live to
call a single tree or a handful of earth my own; and now that
God has given me so much, let's try and deserve it all. "
Hansei's eyes blinked, as if there was something in them, and
he pulled his hat down over his forehead. Now, while he was
pulling himself up by the roots as it were, he could not help
thinking of how thoroughly he had become engrafted into the
neighborhood by the work of his hands and by habit. He had
felled many a tree, but he knew full well how hard it was to
remove the stumps.
The foal grew restive.
Gruberwaldl, who had come with
them in order to hold it, was not strong enough, and one of the
boatmen was obliged to go to his assistance.
«< Stay with the foal," said Hansei. "I'll take the oar. "
"And I too," cried Walpurga. "Who knows when I'll have
another chance? Ah! how often I've rowed on the lake with
you and my blessed father. "
Hansei and Walpurga sat side by side plying their oars in
perfect time. It did them both good to have some employment
which would enable them to work off the excitement.
"I shall miss the water," said Walpurga; "without the lake,
life'll seem so dull and dry. I felt that, while I was in the city. "
Hansei did not answer.
"At the summer palace there's a pond with swans swimming
about in it," said she, but still received no answer. She looked
## p. 982 (#408) ############################################
982
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
around, and a feeling of anger arose within her. When she said
anything at the palace, it was always listened to.
In a sorrowful tone she added, "It would have been better if
we'd moved in the spring; it would have been much easier to
get used to things. "
"Maybe it would," replied Hansei, at last, "but I've got to
hew wood in the winter. Walpurga, let's make life pleasant to
each other, and not sad. I shall have enough on my shoulders,
and can't have you and your palace thoughts besides. "
Walpurga quickly answered, "I'll throw this ring, which the
Queen gave me, into the lake, to prove that I've stopped thinking
of the palace. "
"There's no need of that. The ring's worth a nice sum, and
besides that it's an honorable keepsake. You must do just as I
do. "
"Yes; only remain strong and true. "
The grandmother suddenly stood up before them. Her feat-
ures were illumined with a strange expression, and she said :-
-
"Children! Hold fast to the good fortune that you have.
You've gone through fire and water together; for it was fire
when you
were surrounded by joy and love and every one
greeted you with kindness-and you passed through the water,
when the wickedness of others stung you to the soul. At that
time the water was up to your neck, and yet you weren't
drowned. Now you've got over it all. And when my last hour
comes, don't weep for me; for through you I've enjoyed all the
happiness a mother's heart can have in this world. "
She knelt down, scooped up some water with her hand, and
sprinkled it over Hansei's and also over Walpurga's face.
They rowed on in silence. The grandmother laid her head
on a roll of bedding and closed her eyes. Her face wore a
strange expression. After a while she opened her eyes again,
and casting a glance full of happiness on her children, she said:
"Sing and be merry. Sing the song that father and I so
often sang together; that one verse, the good one. "
Hansei and Walpurga plied the oars while they sang:-
"Ah, blissful is the tender tie
That binds me, love, to thee;
And swiftly speed the hours by,
When thou art near to me. "
## p. 983 (#409) ############################################
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
983
They repeated the verse again, although at times the joyous
shouting of the child and the neighing of the foal bade fair to
interrupt it.
As they drew near the house, they could hear the neighing
of the white foal.
"That's a good beginning," cried Hansei.
The grandmother placed the child on the ground, and got
her hymn-book out of the chest. Pressing the book against her
breast with both hands, she went into the house, being the first
to enter. Hansei, who was standing near the stable, took a piece
of chalk from his pocket and wrote the letters C. M. B. , and the
date, on the stable door. Then he too went into the house,-
his wife, Irma, and the child following him.
Before going into the sitting-room the grandmother knocked
thrice at the door. When she had entered she placed the open
hymn-book upon the open window-sill, so that the sun might
read in it. There were no tables or chairs in the room.
Hansei shook hands with his wife and said, "God be with
you, freeholder's wife. "
From that moment Walpurga was known as the "freeholder's
wife," and was never called by any other name.
And now they showed Irma her room. The view extended
over meadow and brook and the neighboring forest. She exam-
ined the room. There was naught but a green Dutch oven and
bare walls, and she had brought nothing with her. In her
paternal mansion, and at the castle, there were chairs and tables,
horses and carriages; but here None of these follow the dead.
Irma knelt by the window and gazed out over meadow and
forest, where the sun was now shining.
How was it yesterday-was it only yesterday when you saw
the sun go down?
Her thoughts were confused and indistinct. She pressed her
hand to her forehead; the white handkerchief was still there. A
bird looked up to her from the meadow, and when her glance
rested upon it it flew away into the woods.
"The bird has its nest," said she to herself, "and I-”
Suddenly she drew herself up. Hansei had walked out to the
grass plot in front of Irma's window, removed the slip of the
cherry-tree from his hat, and planted it in the ground.
## p. 984 (#410) ############################################
984
BERTHOLD AUERBACH
The grandmother stood by and said, "I trust that you'll be
alive and hearty long enough to climb this tree and gather
cherries from it, and that your children and grandchildren may
do the same. "
There was much to do and to set to rights in the house, and
on such occasions it usually happens that those who are dearest
to one another are as much in each other's way as closets and
tables which have not yet been placed where they belong. The
best proof of the amiability of these folks was that they assisted
each other cheerfully, and indeed with jest and song.
Walpurga moved her best furniture into Irma's room. Hansei
did not interpose a word. "Aren't you too lonely here? " asked
Walpurga, after she had arranged everything as well as possible
in so short a time.
"Not at all.
There is no place in all the world lonely enough
for me.
You've so much to do now; don't worry about me. I
must now arrange things within myself. I see how good you
and yours are; fate has directed me kindly. "
"Oh, don't talk in that way. If you hadn't given me the
money, how could we have bought the farm? This is really
your own. "
"Don't speak of that," said Irma, with a sudden start. "Never
mention that money to me again. "
Walpurga promised, and merely added that Irma needn't be
alarmed at the old man who lived in the room above hers, and
who at times would talk to himself and make a loud noise. He
was old and blind. The children teased and worried him, but he
wasn't bad and would harm no one. Walpurga offered at all
events to leave Gundel with Irma for the first night; but Irma
preferred to be alone.
"You'll stay with us, won't you? " said Walpurga hesitat-
ingly. "You won't have such bad thoughts again? "
"No, never. But don't talk now: my voice pains me, and
so does yours too. Good-night! leave me alone. "
Irma sat by the window and gazed out into the dark night.
Was it only a day since she had passed through such terrors?
Suddenly she sprang from her seat with a shudder. She had
seen Black Esther's head rising out of the darkness, had again
heard her dying shriek, had beheld the distorted face and the
wild black tresses.
