Part 84 (1/2)

”Come with me, Herr Schultz.”

Brasig was angry, as I have said, he was exceedingly angry; the fine fraternity _fete_, from which he had hoped so much for mankind, was hopelessly ruined; he felt like the patriarch Abraham, when he offered up his darling child, he would have nothing more to do with it, he would go home; then providence sent him this scapegoat, upon whom he could express his anger, and so much the better, since he was the friend and tool of Pomuchelskopp.

”Come along, Herr Schultz,” said he, crossing the hall with great strides to the dressing room, where he had left his hat and buckthorn walking-stick. The hat he left there, but the stick he took with him to No. 3.

There were many guests sitting here, over their bottles, and laughing at the jokes of the Herr Notary. All at once a great silence fell upon the merry company, as they saw a face among them which frightened them out of their laughter. That was Brasig's, which looked, in a very singular way, first at his buckthorn stick, and then at the notary, so that the company, with a suspicion of what might possibly happen, hastened to withdraw from the table.

”What rascal wanted to make me King of France?” cried Brasig, in such a voice that the plastering fell from the ceiling, and his stick seemed like a live thing in his hand: ”I will not be made King of France!”--whack! came the buckthorn, between the notary's shoulder-blades. ”Oh Lord!”--”I will not be made King of France!” and a second time the buckthorn did its work, and Uncle Brasig and his stick alternated in the a.s.surance that they had no ambition for the French crown. Candlesticks, lamps and bottles entered actively into the battle-royal, and David got under the table, that is to say, he crept there for refuge. The notary shrieked for help, but no one stood by him; only when the affair was over, David plucked up courage, under the table, to inquire: ”Begging your pardon, Herr Inspector, is this what you call fraternity?”

”Yes!” cried Brasig, ”you miserable scamp! Between a man and a dog, blows are the best fraternity.”

”Out! out!” said Herr Schultz and he grappled David, under the table, and dragged him to light.

”Gentlemen,” cried Slusuhr, ”you are witnesses how I have been treated, I shall enter a complaint.”

”I have seen nothing,” said one.

”I know nothing about it,” said another.

”I was looking out of the window,” said a third, although it was pitch dark.

”Herr Schultz,” said Brasig, ”you are my witness that I have treated the Herr Notary Slusuhr with the greatest forbearance,” and with that, he left the room, got his hat, and went home.

The blows which Slusuhr had received in No. 3 had echoed by this time through the hall, and in no way tended to harmonize the existing discords. The two Herrs von So and So with their sons had taken leave long before, and some of the grandees had also quietly retreated. The little a.s.sessor had her hat on, and her cloak wrapped around her, though Fritz Triddelsitz was almost on his knees before her, begging for one more, just _one_ more little Schottische.

Pomuchelskopp also prepared for departure; he had an indefinite, but just, premonition that something was going to happen to him that evening, so he went to his family and told them it was time they were starting for home. His family afforded a sad picture of the whole entertainment, for they were quite divided. Gustaving was still hopping about, contentedly, with tailor Wimmersdorf's youngest daughter, Salchen was standing a little aside with Herr Sussmann, listening attentively while he related how merely by way of joke he had taken the stupid situation at Kurz's shop, but he should remain there no longer than till he could decide which of the places to accept, which were offered to him in Hamburg, Lubeck or Stettin, or possibly he might conclude to establish himself in Rostock, for he had a rich uncle there, who was constantly urging him to get married and come and live with him. Malchen sat in a sofa-corner, crying with vexation over her shoemaker. Klucking, our brave old Hauning, sat there stiff as a stake; however agitated by the events of the evening she may have been, she gave no sign, she remained steadfast, even the shoemaker had not moved her out of her composure, and when Muchel proposed that they should go she merely said, in a very friendly way, ”Poking, will you not invite your friend, the shoemaker, to ride with us? You might also invite one of your n.o.ble acquaintances. And then, if you ask weaver Ruhrdanz, and Willgans, and your other brothers of the Reformverein, the company will be complete.”

And with this matrimonial sting in his great fraternal heart, our friend set off on his homeward journey.

CHAPTER XLIII.

One should never be confident beforehand how a matter will turn out; especially, one should never make free with the devil, for he is apt to come when he is called, and often appears uninvited. The guests whom Hauning advised Pomuchelskopp to invite, were standing before the gate of Gurlitz waiting for their host and hostess. All the villagers and Pomuchelskopp's day-laborers stood there together, as the summer morning began to dawn, before the court-yard gate, to give their master a reception.

”Children,” said Ruhrdanz, ”what must be, must, but do everything with regularity!”

”Out with your regularity!” cried Willgans. ”Has he treated us with regularity?”

”No matter,” said Ruhrdanz, ”we cannot get our rights out of hand. That is where you are mistaken. When we go to the grand-duke about it afterwards, and that is no more than proper, and he asks, 'Willgans, what did you do?' and you tell him, 'Why, Herr, we first gave the old man and his wife a good beating, and then we took them over the boundary,' how will that sound? What will the man say to that?”

”Yes,” said old Brinkmann, ”Ruhrdanz is right? If we take him over the boundary then we are rid of him, and there is no need of our doing anything more.”

This was finally resolved upon. Behind the men stood the women and children, and the great, strong woman of yesterday morning was there also, and she said, ”Now we have things, so far, as we want them. If you don't do it though, and get rid of the fellow and his wife, I will beat my man till he cries for mercy.”

”Yes, gossip,” said another woman, ”we must, _we must!_ I went to the pastor's yesterday,--well, the Frau Pastorin gave me something, and he preached patience. What? Patience? Has hunger patience?”

”Johann Schmidt,” said a tall, slender girl, ”just run up the hill, and see if they are coming. Fika, how will our two mamsells look, when they are sent packing?”

”Shall we tell the pastor about the matter?” inquired the day-laborer Zorndt of Brinkmann. ”It might be well that he should know about it.”