Part 70 (1/2)

”That is to say,” interrupted Brasig, ”that you listened a little.”

”Why, yes,” replied Fritz.

”Very well,” said Brasig, ”go ahead!”

”Well, I must tell you, Krischan Dasel is positively bent upon marrying Fika Degel, and has been betrothed to her several years, and the Herr will not have a married groom, for he thinks a married groom would care more for his own children than he would for the colts, which is all right enough, but he will not dismiss him, either, because he thinks he does well for the beasts; though for my part, I don't agree with him.

And now Krischan Dasel has got it into his head, that if he can break up the raising of thorough-breds, and do away with the paddocks, the Herr will let him marry Fika Degel, and so he was stirring up the day-laborers to demand the paddocks for potato-land.”

”Well, you ran directly to the Herr, and told him that?” inquired Brasig.

”Of course,” said Fritz, ”he ought to know it beforehand, so as to be prepared for them. And when they came, and began about the paddocks and potato-land, and were of the opinion that their wives and children were just as good as the Herr's mares and foals, and ought to be cared for first, then he scolded them finely, and packed them off immediately.

Krischan Dasel, of course, was paid up and sent off at once.”

”Well, what does the gracious Frau say to all this?” asked Uncle Brasig.

”Eh,” said Fritz, shrugging his shoulders, ”what shall I say? she says nothing to it. I don't know what has come over her. She used to greet me,--rather ceremoniously but still politely,--but now she never looks at me, ever since that stupid book-business with Marie Moller. _She_ has been gone, this long time, and it is just as well, for she was an old goose; and now the gracious Frau attends to the housekeeping, herself, and, I must say, she is a good housekeeper, although she does'nt speak to me; and Korlin Kegel says she does it only to divert her mind from other thoughts, and she often sits down, and writes letters, but tears them all up, and sits with her hands in her lap, gazing at the little gracious Fraulein. 'It is a pity,' says Korlin Kegel. 'But the housekeeping goes on all right, and without any scolding and storming round; no, so it shall be, and so it is done. If she only had a friend or a companion,' says Korlin Kegel,--well it is none of my business,--and he has no friends either.”

”But it _is_ some of my business,” cried Frau Nussler, springing up, ”and I will go and see her to-morrow, and you, Jochen, may as well go also and see that poor, foolish young man, and advise him for his good; such times as these should bring neighbors together.

”Yes, mother,” said Jochen, ”what shall I do about it? And then this old goose-business here; but Gottlieb and Lining----”

”To be sure,” cried Frau Nussler, ”he helped them to their living, and we must not forget it of him.”

”Well, but _he_,” said Brasig, looking like a sly old rascal, ”has _he_ no friends? What would the Herr Zamwell Pomuchelskopp say to that?”

”Pomuchelskopp?” said Fritz. ”We have nothing more to do with _him_,”

bringing out the word with great contempt, and bending down to Brasig he whispered, ”he has sued us, he has sent us notice for the money; I know it from Zod.i.c.k, from Moses' Zod.i.c.k. Yes, that pot is broken, and Slusuhr is coming constantly, now by letter, now in person; but we have got one on our side, too, the advocate Rein, do you know him?”

”Oh, yes,” whispered Brasig, ”I know him, with his North pole, and Island of Ferro.”

”A confoundedly smart fellow, isn't he?” asked Fritz.

”Yes indeed,” said Brasig, ”he can lead people by the nose finely.

But,” he asked aloud, ”what has the young Herr decided about the day-laborers?”

”I will tell you,” said Fritz. ”We have both decided to defend our lives to the last extremity, and he sent me to Rahnstadt, to get these revolvers.”

”Well, and if the day-laborers come again?”

”Then we shall shoot,” said Fritz.

”Right!” said Brasig, taking one of the revolvers in his hand, and playing with it, rather absently, ”but Frau Nussler, you have made it all wet, it might get rusty,” and he wiped it on his coat-tails, and went to the window, as if to examine it more closely, while Fritz, meantime, explained to Jochen Nussler the construction of the other.

”Jochen, where is your tool-chest,” asked Brasig.

Jochen pointed, with his foot, to the lower part of the cupboard.

Fritz heard a sort of clattering behind him, and then a sharp noise, as if something hard was broken, and, as he looked round, Brasig held out to him his revolver, without any c.o.c.k, for he held that in the pincers, in the other hand: ”There!”