Part 53 (1/2)
”These English little girls appear to know no shame,” said his wife.
”Truly they might learn much from our own female youth,” said the friend.
Letty's poems had undoubtedly been the indirect cause of the fire, of Axel's arrest, and of his marriage with Anna. But if they had brought about Anna's happiness, a happiness more complete and perfect than any of which she had dreamed, they had also brought about Klutz's ruin. For Klutz, shattered in nerves, weak of will, overcome by the state of his conscience and the possible terrors of the next world, with the blood of three generations of pastors in his veins, every drop of which cried out to him day and night to save his soul at least, whatever became of his body, Klutz had confessed. He was only twenty, he knew himself to be really harmless, he had never had any intentions worse than foolish, and here he was, ruined. The act had been an act of temporary madness; and influenced by Dellwig, he had saved his skin afterwards as best he could. Now there was the price to pay, the heavy price, so tremendous when compared to the smallness of the follies that had led him on step by step. His bad genius, Dellwig, went free; and later on lived sufficiently far away from Kleinwalde to be greatly respected to the end of his days. Manske's eyes filled with tears when he came to the action of Providence in this matter--the mysteriousness of it, the utter inscrutableness of it, letting the morally responsible go unpunished, and allowing the poor young vicar, handicapped from his very entrance into the world by his weakness of character, to be overtaken on the threshold of life by so terrific a fate. ”Truly the ways of Providence are past finding out,” said Manske, sorrowfully shaking his head.
”I never did believe in Klutz,” said his wife, thinking of her apple jelly.
”Woman, kick not him who is down,” said her husband, turning on her with reproachful sternness.
”Kick!” echoed his wife, tossing her head at this rebuke, administered in the presence of the friend; ”I am not, I hope, so unwomanly as to kick.”
”It is a figure of speech,” mildly explained the friend.
”I like it not,” said Frau Manske gloomily.
”Peace,” said her husband.
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
Elizabeth and Her German Garden
”What a captivating book it is--how merry and gentle and sunny, how whimsically wise and tender! There is real humor in these pages, and for that reason, if for no other, it deserves to live. The new chapter, describing the author's pious pilgrimage to the garden of her childhood, is inimitable in its way, and should not be missed by any admirer of this most winning Elizabeth.”--_New York Tribune._
”Elizabeth is pure suns.h.i.+ne and without a shadow, the reflection, as it were, of a quiet existence, and never a commonplace one; for, without knowing it or suspecting it, she is an idealist. Elizabeth never tires, for has she not her husband, her little ones, and her books to talk about? These pa.s.sages, as found in 'Elizabeth' in the quiet history of a woman's life, act as useful tonics or are the necessary sedatives in our somewhat fevered existence.”--_New York Times._