Part 14 (1/2)
”G.o.d bless me!” cried the Frau Pastorin, ”that is Fritz's trunk. You will see, Pastor, my brother-in-law is so inconsiderate, he has let the boy come on horseback again. n.o.body ought to ride that wild horse, Habermann.”
”Oh, don't be troubled, Frau Pastorin,” said Habermann, laughing a little, ”the horse is not so bad----”
”Ah, Habermann, but I saw him before, when he first came to Pumpelhagen; the creature would not stir a step.”
”Frau Pastorin,” said Brasig, ”it is not so bad if a beast is balky as when the rascal takes to running; then the Latin riders used to fall off.”
But the little Frau Pastorin could not rest; she opened the window, and asked the man who had driven the cart whether Fritz was riding, and was the horse very vicious?
”Like a lamb,” was the reply. ”If he does nothing to the horse, the horse will do nothing to him. He will be here directly.”
That was comforting, so the Frau Pastorin seated herself again on the sofa, saying, with a sigh,--
”My poor sister! I tremble for her, whenever I set eyes on the boy. He plays too many stupid jokes.”
”He will be up to something of the sort, now?” said Brasig.
Brasig was right. In the time between Christmas and New Year's Fritz had accomplished a great deal of folly, all the time in his wonderful inspector suit; for, though the weather had been cold and disagreeable, he had worn the green hunting-jacket, white leather breeches, and yellow top-boots, not merely in the day-time, but occasionally through the night. Once, at least, after he had come home late from a lively company of young farmers, the maid-servant found him next morning lying in bed in his boots and spurs. He had met an old friend that evening, Gust Prebberow by name, who went round half the year in yellow top-boots, and the pleasure of seeing him, together with the lively, agricultural conversation, had been a little too much for Fritz. Gust Prebberow had given him all sorts of useful advice, how to manage ”the old man,” as he called Habermann, and to pull the wool over his eyes, and had told incidents from his own experience in the management of farm-boys; and, after discussing these branches of agriculture, they came to the subject of horses. Fritz related his adventures with the old chestnut, who was naturally a very gifted horse, and good-natured, for the most part, but like his own father the apothecary, old Chestnut had always been suspicious of him, and on the look-out for mischief. He had evidently made up his mind that Fritz knew nothing about the management of horses, although Fritz had made repeated efforts to bring him to a better way of thinking. His greatest fault was that he positively would not stir a step farther than he pleased, neither kicks nor kindness, whipping nor spurring, could alter this determination when once he had taken it into his stupid head.
”And do you allow that?” said Gust Prebberow. ”Now, brother, I will tell you what to do. See, next time you mount him, take a good sized earthen pot full of water, and ride gently along just as usual, till you come to the place where he balks, and then give it to him with the spurs in the ribs, and break the pot over his head,--all at once!--so that the fragments of the pot will clatter down, and the water will run into his eyes.”
Fritz paid close attention to this advice, and when he started to-day in his smart inspector suit, he took the bridle in his left hand, the riding-whip under his left arm, and in his right hand a great jar full of water. He could not ride fast, without spilling the water, and old Chestnut had no desire to run away, so they jogged along very peaceably until they reached Rexow farm.
Here Fritz wished to ride up to the house in a brisk trot, so he drove the spurs into old Chestnut's ribs, but Chestnut, having a bad disposition and still bearing Fritz malice, on account of his adventure in the Pastor's mud-puddle, all of a sudden stood still. Now was the time. A stroke of the whip behind, spurs in his ribs, and cras.h.!.+ the pot between his ears. ”Uff!” grunted Chestnut, shaking his head, in token that he would not stir a step, but the blow must have stunned him a little, for he lay down directly. Fritz went too, of course, and though he had sense enough to fall clear of the horse, he could not prevent himself from lying at his side.
The company in Frau Nussler's parlor had witnessed the scene, and at first the little Frau Pastorin had lamented her poor sister's misfortune, but as she observed old Chestnut's quiet behaviour, and saw Fritz safely landed upon the soft and somewhat cold ”bed of honor,”
which the rain and dew of heaven and Jochen Nussler's dung-heap had prepared for him, she was compelled to join in the general laughter, and said to her Pastor, ”It is good enough for him!”
”Yes,” said Brasig, ”and if he takes cold, it won't hurt him. What business has he to behave so with that old creature!”
Fritz now approached, looking on one side like a plough-boy, black and muddy, on the other still smart and s.h.i.+ning.
”You are a dainty sight, my son,” cried the Frau Pastorin, from the open window. ”Don't come in here like that! Fortunately, your trunk has arrived, and you can change your clothes.”
He followed her advice, and entered the room, before long, in his most distinguished apparel, a blue dress-coat and long black trousers, like a young proprietor, but in great vexation, which Brasig's jokes and his aunt's observations did not tend to diminish. Franz, on the contrary, was in the most cheerful temper. He joked to his heart's content with the three little girls, and looked at their Christmas gifts, laughing himself half dead as the little twins finally dragged forward a great foot-sack, which Uncle Brasig had given them, ”that the little rogues might keep their toes warm, and not get the cursed Podagra.” Franz had never in his life enjoyed opportunities of intercourse with little girls younger than himself, and this confidential chatter and contented mirthfulness, making merry over things which in his eyes seemed nothing at all, made such an impression upon him, that when they sat down to supper, he kept among the little folks, decidedly refusing the pressing invitations of Frau Nussler, who wished him, as a n.o.bleman, to take a higher place.
That was a joyous evening meal; talk went briskly back and forth, every one taking his share except Fritz and Jochen. Fritz could not get over his annoyance, and was vexed that he could not enjoy himself as Franz was doing. Jochen said nothing to be sure, but he laughed continually; if Brasig merely opened his mouth, Jochen stretched his from ear to ear, and when the punch was brought in, and Lining, as the most judicious of the little ones, undertook the task of serving it out, he found a voice, and endeavored to discharge his duties as host, saying now and then very quietly, ”Lining, help Brasig!”
The punch helped Fritz, also, to the use of his tongue. He was still in ill-humor, especially at Franz's undignified behavior. The little girls had hitherto seemed to him very small fry, but if one talked to them at all, one should employ a higher style of conversation. Accordingly he took up the _role_ which he had played at the Rahnstadt ball, when he had danced with the burgomeister's daughter, aged twenty-seven, and addressed Louise as ”Fraulein Habermann.” The child looked at him in astonishment, and as he again uttered his ”Fraulein,” she laughed innocently in his face: ”I am no Fraulein, I am only Louise Habermann,”--and Franz could not help laughing also.
That was annoying for Fritz, but he knew what was proper, and how one should converse with ladies; he refused to be snubbed, and went on relating his experiences at the ball, what he said to the burgomeister's daughter, and what she had said to him, ”fraulein” ing also the little twins, right and left. And as this caused a great t.i.ttering and giggling among the little folks, he naturally talked louder and louder, in order to be heard, till at last the whole company were looking at him in silence. Jochen, who sat next him, had turned round and stared at him, as if to see how it were possible that one human being could talk so much. Brasig looked over Jochen's shoulder with an uncommonly happy face, rejoicing at his own knowledge of human nature, and nodding now and then to Habermann, as if to say, ”You see, Karl, didn't I say so? A good-for-nothing puppy!”
Habermann, annoyed, looked down at his plate, Frau Nussler was in great perplexity to know what she ought to do as hostess, in such an emergency, the Pastor gently shook his head back and forth; but the most excited of all was the little Frau Pastorin. She bent down her head till the cap-strings rustled under her chin, and moved uneasily on her chair, as if the place were too hot for her, and as Fritz finally attempted to give a visible ill.u.s.tration of the schottische, how the gentleman embraced the lady, she could no longer contain herself. She sprang up and cried, ”All keep still! As his aunt, I am the nearest to him! Fritz, come here directly!” And as he slowly rose, and very coolly and politely walked round to her, she took hold of his coat and pulled him along: ”My dearest boy, come out here a moment!” With that, she drew him out of the door. The company inside heard fragments of a short sermon, which was interrupted by no reply, and then the door opened and the Frau Pastorin led Fritz back again, and, pointing to his place, said, ”Now sit down quietly, and behave like a reasonable being.”
Fritz followed her advice, that is to say the first part of it; the second was not so easy, and ought not to have been expected. After fas.h.i.+onable talk, reasonable talk seemed to him very tame, and why should he spoil a good beginning by a bad ending?
As Franz and the little girls gradually resumed their lively chatter, and the older people travelled on in the country road of reasonable talk, with a jolt now and then, when Brasig drove against a stone, Fritz sat and grumbled to himself, feeding his anger with punch, which served as oil to the flame, and inwardly called Franz ”a crafty rascal,” and the little girls, ”foolish children,” who understood nothing of polite conversation.
In spite of this, and of the contempt which he felt for such childish intercourse, his anger was mingled with a little jealousy at not being himself ”c.o.c.k of the walk,” and as he perceived that Franz seemed most taken with Louise Habermann, he vowed secretly that _that_ should come to an end; he himself, Fritz Triddelsitz, would see what he could do, provided, that is, that his aunt would keep out of the way.