Part 62 (1/2)
”So I say, Herr Inspector, but once he went rather too far, for he beat a woman who was in the family way, and injured her severely, and, you won't take it ill of me, Herr Inspector, but I think that was a great crime. Then they complained of him to the king, and he commanded that he should be imprisoned in Stettin for life, and drag b.a.l.l.s after him.
Well, then, his old woman went to the king, and fell down on her knees to him, and the king let him out, on condition that he should wear an iron ring round his neck, all his life long, and every autumn he should drag b.a.l.l.s, for four weeks, in Stettin,--he was there this last autumn,--and that he should leave the country; and so he came here; but now tell me, Herr Inspector, if he should be driven away from here, where could he go?”
”Where the pepper grows, for all I care,” said Brasig.
”Yes, so I say, Herr Inspector; but don't take it ill of me, I don't believe they would take him there; for, you see, he has money enough to buy a place, but how about his papers? For when the king comes to see his papers, and he reads that he must wear an iron ring on his neck, and that that is the reason he always wears such a great thick neck-cloth, then they will have nothing to do with him.”
”Eh, then you will have to keep him,” said Brasig.
”Well, if there is no other way, then we must keep him; he is, so to speak, married to us. Get up!” he cried, and drove at a trot, through Gurlitz; and Brasig fell into deep thought. How strangely things went in the world! Such a fellow, who had such a reputation, was yet in circ.u.mstances to ruin an honest man's good name; for he was quite certain that Pomuchelskopp was at the bottom of all the stories, and that he had taken pains to set them in circulation was evident from Gustaving's share in the matter.
”It is scandalous,” he said to himself, as he got down, in Rahnstadt, at the Frau Pastorin's, ”but take care, Zamel! I have taken one trick from you, with the pastor's acre, I shall get another; but first I must complain of you, about the 'crow!'”
CHAPTER x.x.xII.
New-Year's day, 1846, had come, and brought its kind wishes, and the Rahnstadters congratulated each other, in the cold streets, or in the warm parlors, just as it happened, and some people slept until noon, and ate pickled herrings, because it was Sylvester's eve, and there was much talk among the young people of this and that, which had happened at the ball, yesterday, and the old folks sat together, and talked of what had happened, not indeed at the ball, but in the world. And the story of Habermann and Herr von Rambow was a chief dish, which was served up at all tables; and as every house had its own cookery, so it had also its own gossip, one believed the story so, and another so, and each suited it to his own palate, and invited his neighbor as guest, and Slusuhr and David went everywhere, as unbidden guests, and the one added his pepper, and the other his garlic to the dish. And so, for the city of Rahnstadt and the region round about the story and the slander became richer in its process, as each seasoned it with his favorite spice: Habermann had for years been cheating his two masters, and had acc.u.mmulated a great pile of money, which was the reason why the young Herr von Rambow was always in pecuniary embarra.s.sment; he had gone halves with the lay-laborer Regel, in his robbery, and had helped him off and given him a recommendation. Whether Jochen Nussler had a.s.sisted in the conspiracy, people were not definitely informed. But at last the apothecary Triddelsitz's son, who was an uncommonly wideawake and discreet young man, had come upon the track, by secretly examining Habermann's books, in which he discovered the whole imposition, word for word. He had told it to the housekeeper, Marie Moller, and they both agreed that Triddelsitz must take the book till Habermann had gone, and the considerate young man did so, and carried it with him to Demmin, intending to deliver it afterwards to Herr von Rambow. But, the next day, Habermann had missed the book, and was persuaded that Herr von Rambow had taken it, so he went to him, and told him he was a rascal, and demanded his book again, and when the young Herr could not give it him, he aimed a rifle at his breast. The young Herr would not bear that, and grappled with him for the rifle, and it went off, and the Herr von Rambow was now lying at the point of death. Habermann was doubtless in concealment, somewhere in the city. This was pretty nearly the story which the Rahnstadters had pieced together, and everybody wondered that the burgomeister did not have such a dangerous man put in prison.
There were, fortunately, two intelligent beings in the city, who would not bite at the story; one was Moses, who, when David told him of the affair, said merely, ”David, you are too stupid!” and went about his business, the other was the burgomeister himself, who shook his head and also went about his business. The Rector Baldrian did not go about his business, for he had a vacation, and he said if the whole city said so there must be something in it, but so much he would say, and he would go to the sacrament upon it, his Gottlieb's father-in-law, Jochen Nussler, was not in the conspiracy. Kurz said it was possible, but he would never have suspected it of old Habermann; but no one could read the heart of another. Meanwhile, he must say, one thing seemed to him improbable, that Fritz Triddelsitz could have acted with much discretion, and he believed that part of the business must have happened differently. Just for the reason that his Fritz had distinguished himself, the apothecary believed in the story, and told it all over the city, that he might increase his dear son's celebrity.
And so strangely does destiny play with us. At this very moment when Fritz's renown was spread through the whole city, he himself stood before that dreadful criminal, Habermann, in the guise of a penitent sinner, begging him earnestly to forgive his share in the trouble, he had not done it intentionally. Habermann stroked his chestnut hair, and said, ”Let it go Triddelsitz! But notice one thing; many a good action has evil consequences in the world, and many an evil one has good; but we are not responsible for the consequences, those lie in other hands, and the consequences do not make an action either good or bad. If you had not done wrong, in deceiving me about your grain-account, your conscience would not trouble you, and you need not have stood before me thus. But I forgive you; and now take the receipt for the money, and be a good, steady fellow! And now, good-bye!”
He gave him a receipt, for the gracious Frau had sent him his salary, and this money he had paid out, by Fritz.
Fritz went to the inn, when he had left his horse. There were many people there and they flocked around him: ”Well, how is it? You did that well!” ”Is the Herr von Rambow dangerously hurt?” ”Then he is still living!” ”Do let Herr Triddelsitz speak!” ”Just tell us----” ”No, just tell us, have you got Habermann?”
Fritz was in no mood for narration, he had no desire to expose his own stupidity; he pushed through the crowd, with a few general remarks, and mounted his horse, and the Rahnstadters said, with one accord, he was a very discreet young man, he would not sound his own praises.
If the Rahnstadters gathered about Fritz, in their curiosity, as if he were a bottle of syrup, and they the flies, they were to have a still richer treat; this New-year's day was to be a real news-day. Scarcely had Fritz, outwardly so proud and reserved, inwardly so dejected and penitent, ridden away from the door, when a carriage drove up to the inn,--the gentleman driving himself, and the coachman sitting behind,--and the Rahnstadters flattened their noses against the window panes; who could that be? ”He looks wonderfully familiar to me,” said one. ”Yes, I have surely seen him before,” said another. ”Is it not----” began a third. ”Eh, what? No, it is'nt the one you think,”
said Bank, the shoemaker. ”I know him,” said Wimmersdort the tailor, ”I have made him many a coat, that is the Herr von Rambow who lives beyond Schwerin, at Hogen-Selchow, the cousin of the Pumpelhagen Herr.” ”The tailor is right, it is he.” ”Yes, it is he.” ”Probably he comes on account of this story.” ”That must be it, for the Pumpelhagen Herr lies so low, he can attend to nothing. You shall see, he will take the business in hand.” And as Franz came in to lay off his furs, the Rahnstadters all stood with their backs against the windows, with their backs against the stove, with their backs against the walls, and all looked to the middle of the room, where Franz stood, as it were, surrounded by a web of curiosity, from which all the threads ran to the middle, where he was caught, like a helpless fly.
Franz went out, spoke a couple of words to the servant, and went off towards the market. ”Johann,” asked one from the window, ”what did he say to you?” ”Ah,” said Johann, ”he only asked after the burgomeister, if he was at home.” ”Did you hear? he asked after the burgomeister; he is going to work in earnest.” ”Johann,” said another, ”did he say nothing else?” ”Yes, he asked where the parson's wife lived, who has moved here lately, near Kurz the shopkeeper.” ”Ha, ha! Do you notice that? The inspector is probably stowed away, with the parson's wife.
Well, good-bye.”
”Gossip Wimmersdorf, where are you going?” ”Oh, I shall drop in at Kurz's.” ”Wait, I will go too.” ”That is so,” said another, ”at Kurz's, we can see everything finely.” ”Yes, let us go to Kurz's,” and it was not long before Kurz's shop was fuller of customers than he had seen it for a long time, and every one took a dram, and some two, and Kurz said to himself, ”Thank G.o.d! the new year begins finely.”
After a while, Franz came back from the market, and went past Kurz's shop, directly up to the Frau Pastorin's door.
”How? He has no policeman with him!” said one.
”Yes, Hoppner is not at home, he has gone to get a pig to-day, from the farmer at Prebberow.”
”Oh, that is all right, then.”
”How Habermann will feel, when he finds himself caught!” said Wimmersdorf.
”Children, my feet are getting cold,” said Bank, the shoemaker, ”I am going home.”