Part 49 (1/2)
”I'll tell you all about it, after awhile,” answered Hansei; ”but, first of all, give me a schoppen of wine.”
The wine was brought, and Hansei looked around, as if wondering where he was.
He felt as if he had come from another world, and it was not until he had eaten some bread and salt, that he told them of the strange adventures he had had that day. He had gone out into the forest to load up the wood, and had lost his way, and wandered in the direction of Windenreuthe. He said this intentionally, lest some one might have seen him in that neighborhood.
They spoke of the belief in ghosts, but the innkeeper ridiculed such nursery tales. Hansei made no reply. The innkeeper remarked, very sensibly:
”You're often bewildered, nowadays, just because your Walpurga isn't with you. You're thinking of her all the time, and that's what makes you lose your way.”
”Yes--quite likely.”
”Do you know what they call you in the village, now?”
”Well, what?”
”The he-nurse. Your wife, who's with the crown prince, is the she-nurse, and so they call you the he-nurse.”
Hansei laughed with all his might.
”Say, Hansei, what pay does your wife get?” inquired Wastl the weaver.
”I won't tell,” replied Hansei, with an air of mystery.
”It's a long while since you had a letter from your wife, isn't it?”
inquired the innkeeper.
”No; I'm expecting one any hour.” He had scarcely uttered the words, when the letter-carrier entered and said, ”So here you are, Hansei; I've been at your house twice to-day. I've got a letter with money in it, for you.”
”Let's have it,” said Hansei, breaking the five seals with a trembling hand.
”A nice way of treating money,” said the innkeeper, picking up a hundred florin note from the floor. ”That'll suit me very well. I've use for one, and will give you the change for it.”
”All right,” said Hansei, leaving the money in the innkeeper's hands.
He then read his letter:
”_Dear Hansei_: This time, I write to you all alone. Here are a hundred florins that the queen has given me for a special present, because you haven't come to see me; but I must tell you all about it so that you can understand it. You've no idea what a good soul the queen is; whenever you pray, pray for her. We often sit together for hours, and she can take down everything on paper beautifully--the trees and all sorts of things, and we talk to each other as if we had gone to school together. But she's Lutheran and is very good and pious, and has such kind thoughts about all things that an ugly word couldn't pa.s.s her lips. If she weren't Lutheran, she might become a saint, but she'll get to heaven anyhow. That's my belief, and you can believe it, too; but you needn't tell any one.
”Well, the queen wanted to give me a treat. She would like to make the whole world happy; that's the way the saints must have been in the olden times. Well, as I said before, the queen wanted to give me a treat, because her husband came home well and hearty, and they're so fond of each other, and she wanted you and the child and mother to come and see me for one or two days, for she notices everything; she looks right into your heart, and I'm often homesick for you all. And when the queen talked about having you come, I said to her: 'That would be very nice, but it would cost a pretty penny,' and so I let her make me a present of the money, and we can make better use of it. You haven't the right sort of clothes, you know, and the people here might make fun of you. But with all that, I wouldn't have got the money, for that's nothing to her. She never thinks of such things. She's never counted money in all her life, and I really believe that she don't know how to reckon. The court paymaster attends to all that. Here there's an extra servant for everything--butlers and silver keepers and lots of others.
But now my good countess is back again. She's been to see her father.
They say he's a sort of a hermit who don't want to know anything of the world, and I must thank my countess that I got the money, for she knows how to manage everything. And so I send you the money. Put it out safely, and don't forget to take some of it to make a holiday for you and the child and grandmother.
”Ah, dear Hansei, the palace folk are not all saints and honest people, as I once used to think. Lots of thieving and deceit are carried on here. The father of my Mademoiselle Kramer is an honorable old man; he's the keeper of the castle here, and he's told me many things. But one can be honest everywhere, in the palace or in the cottage by the lake. And now, I beg of you dear Hansei--I always say 'dear Hansei,'
whenever I think of you, and that's very often. It was only last night that I dreamt of you, but I won't tell you about that, because we oughtn't to believe in dreams. But write to me very soon and tell me how it goes with you; send me a good, long letter, and don't let the time seem long till we meet again; and always think as kindly of me as I do of you.
”Till death, your faithful WALPURGA.”
In spite of their entreaties, Hansei would not tell a word of what was in the letter; he went home quietly, and kissed his sleeping child. He felt happy that he could thus be at home again, and that his home did not reject him. A cold sweat came over him when he thought that he was sleeping in this bed, and of what a changed man he might have become.