Part 11 (1/2)

The Pastor entered, his Regina looked at him inquiringly.

”She is watering the flowers,” he said, as if to compose her, and he walked in his quiet way, up and down the room, finally turning toward Brasig. ”What are you thinking of, dear friend?”

”h.e.l.l-fire! I am thinking about h.e.l.l-fire, Herr Pastor!”

”Why of that?” asked the Pastor.

But instead of replying, Brasig sprang to his feet, and said:

”Tell me, Herr Pastor, is it true that there are mountains that vomit fire?”

”Certainly,” said the Pastor.

”And are they good or bad for mankind?”

”The people who live in the neighbourhood consider the eruptions a good thing, because then the earthquakes are not so violent.”

”So? so?” said Brasig, apparently not quite satisfied with the answer.

”But it is true, isn't it,” he went on, ”that such mountains send forth flame and smoke, like a chimney?”

”Something so,” said the Pastor, who had not the slightest idea what Brasig was driving at.

”Well,” said Brasig, stamping with his foot, ”then I wish that the devil would take Zamel Pomuchelskopp by the nape of his neck, and hold him over one of those fire-spouting holes till he got his deserts.”

”Fie, Brasig!” cried the little Pastorin, ”you are a heathen. How can you utter such an unchristian wish in a minister's house!”

”Frau Pastorin,” said Brasig, going back into the sofa-corner, ”it would be a great benefit to mankind.”

”Dear Brasig,” said the Pastor, ”we must remember that these people used the disgraceful expression without any intention of hurting us.”

”It is all one to me,” cried Brasig, ”with or without intention. He provoked me with intention, but what he did here without intention was a thousand times worse. You see, Herr Pastor, one must get angry sometimes, and we farmers get angry regularly two or three times a day,--it belongs to the business; but moderately, what I call a sort of farm-boy anger. For example, yesterday I was having the fallow-ground marled, and I had ordered the boys to form a line with their carts.

Then I stood in the marl-pit, and all was going nicely. Then, you see, there came that lubber, Christian Kohlhaas,--a real horned-beast of a creature,--there he was with his full cart coming back to the pit. 'You confounded rascal!' said I, 'what under heaven! are you going to bring the marl back again!' Do you believe, that blockhead looked me right in the face, and said he wasn't quite ready to empty the cart, and would go into the line. Well, I was angry, you may be sure; but there are different sorts of anger. This was a proper farm-boy anger, and that kind agrees with me, especially after dinner; but here--I can't scold Pomuchelskopp as I do the farm-boys. It all stays here, I can't get rid of it. And you will see, Frau Pastorin, to-morrow I shall have that cursed gout again.”

”Brasig,” said the Frau Pastorin, ”will you do me a favour? Don't tell Habermann anything of this.”

”Eh, why should I, Frau Pastorin? But I will go to little Louise, and comfort her, and tell her that Samuel Pomuchelskopp is the meanest, most infamous rascal on the face of the earth.”

”No, no,” said the Pastor, hastily, ”let that go. The child will get over it, and I hope all will be well again.”

”No? Then good-bye,” said Brasig, reaching for his cap.

”Surely, Brasig, you will stay to dinner with us?”

”Thank you kindly, Frau Pastorin. There is reason in all things. One must be angry sometimes, to be sure; but better after dinner than before. I had better go and work in the marl-pit; but Christian would do well not to come back today with his full cart to the marl-pit. So good-bye, once more.” And with that he went off.

CHAPTER VI.

Habermann heard nothing of this occurrence. His child said nothing to him about it, only treated him with increased tenderness and reverence, if that were possible, as if with her greater love to make up to him the wrong which had been done him. Frau Nussler, who had heard the whole story from her little girls, could not find it in her heart to say a word to her brother which could grieve him, or make him suspicious of others. The Pastor and his wife had the same reason for silence, and also the wish that the whole matter should be forgotten by Louise.