Part 22

"Ah," said the enemy of Algiers, "you can see what sort of a stable they came from, can't you? They were bought from Buchmaier, at the Hornberg fair."

Ivo ran up to the beasts, and recognised his favorite by the upturned hair in the middle of the forehead. He almost feared that the fate of the poor animal would be his own, and that death awaited him also; but he could not and would not turn back.

But what was his astonishment when, on arriving at Neustadt, the drovers saluted their employer, who was looking out of the window of the inn, and he recognised him as Florian! He could not believe his eyes, until Florian came up and welcomed the odd-looking drover with shouts of laughter.

Ivo told his story, and Florian, striking the table, cried, "Hurrah for you! Another bottle, waiter. I'll see you through, take my word for it. But how do you expect to get to Strasbourg without a passport? Here," (slipping out of his blue smock,) "put that on: that will make them all take you for a Strasbourg butcher. And," added he, laughingly taking up the heavy belt filled with money which lay before him, "carry that on your shoulder, and you'll be as good as one of us in earnest."

Ivo was well satisfied, and, after a hearty meal, he travelled on with Florian in good spirits. Florian was rejoiced to find such an opportunity of vaunting his prosperous circumstances, and of playing a trick on the Nordstetters: besides, he was really delighted to be of use to Ivo.

The day was hot. On the top of the Hell-Scramble they stopped for dinner. To escape Florian's unceasing invitations to help himself from the bottle, Ivo went into the adjoining smithy to chat with the blacksmith, as he had been wont to do at home. Suddenly he called to mind that this was the place and this the man with whom Nat had once been concealed: he was on the point of asking about him, when the blacksmith said to his boy, "There: take these two ploughshares over to the Beste farmer."

"How far is that?" asked Ivo.

"A good mile."

"I'm going with you," said Ivo. Running into the tavern and telling Florian that he would soon return and overtake him, he doffed his butcher's smock and took his bugle under his arm.

As they walked down the wood-path, he heard the torrent roar and the mills rattle; every tree seemed to stand between him and Nat. "Is the Beste farmer a fine man?" he asked the boy.

"Oh, yes; a finer man than his brother who is dead."

"What's the Christian name of the one that's on the farm now?"

"I don't know: we always call him the Beste farmer: he's been in many strange countries, as a serving-man and as a doctor."

Ivo fairly shouted with joy.

"Since when has he been here?" he asked, again.

"These two years. He worked for his brother a year, till he died: they do say he did it, for he's half a wizard: he wanted to kill him many years ago, and, as there were no children, the property came to him. Otherwise, though, he's a very fine man."

It was painful to be told that his dear Nat was under the suspicion of fratricide after all, as if to punish him for having once in his life meditated the sin; but Ivo soon reflected that such could only be the gossip of envious tongues and of old women.

They passed the saw-mill where Nat had spent so large a portion of his youth. Ivo was particularly pleased to see a fine walnut-tree flourishing in front of it, under the protection of the overtopping hill-side.

They ascended the hill on the other side. Ivo knew that a mile among neighboring farmers is of an elastic character; but he had not expected to find the distance greater than four miles,--as he did. Being very impatient, he relieved the boy of the heavy ploughshares, to enable the latter to keep up with him. The pitchy scent of the sun-stricken firs recalled the memory of home: he saw himself again seated on the harrow with Nat, in the field in the Violet Valley, singing and rejoicing. The associations of childhood danced around him. Having reached the "Wind-Corner," Ivo saw the well-known little cabin, from the window of which a pale female face was looking. It was Lizzie of the Corner, returned to her former solitude.

"How strange," thought Ivo, "that the Church should venture to prohibit what the Bible expressly enjoins! According to the Old Testament, the brother of a decedent was required to marry the childless widow; and this the canonical law expressly forbids. Nat and Lizzie could never marry." With a brush of his hand Ivo banished from his mind all remembrances of theological difficulties.

In the neighborhood of the great farm-house the roads were in fine condition. The stately building did not appear until they were almost at the door. Ivo saw Nat raking hay, while several farm-hands were at work around him. He did not run toward him, but set his bugle to his lips and played the tune of the old song,--

"Up yonder, up yonder, At the heavenly gate, A poor soul is standing In sorrowful strait."

Then he cried "Nat," and they were in each other's arms.

* * * * *

After long pathless wanderings, our story has reached a smooth highway which will bear it rapidly to its close. Ivo remained with Nat, who treated him like a brother. As one of the richest farmers in the country, he could do much for him without feeling a sacrifice. He went to Nordstetten as his proxy, and brought Emmerence, with whom, on a bright, happy day, Ivo was united.

All the villagers, and even his parents, were reconciled to his change of pursuits. It is strange how easily people are satisfied with their friends the moment they pay their own expenses.

Nat presented Ivo with the saw-mill, where he now worked to his heart's content, in company with his Emmerence. Often of an evening he sits under the walnut-tree and plays his bugle, which fills the valley with its melody. Far around, at the isolated farm-houses, the boys and girls stand in the moonshine listening to the plaintive tones. Emmerence once drew Ivo's attention to this; and he said, "You see, music is an emblem of human life as it should be. I play for our own satisfaction; and yet if I know that the sounds gladden the hearts of other men also, I am still better pleased, and play with more life and spirit. Let every man attend to his own business well, and he will help others too, and make them happy. I am not disinterested enough to be satisfied with playing tunes for other people to dance by. I like to dance myself."

"Yes," said Emmerence: "you are a learned man, and yet I understand you. When the boys used to sing while gathering fir-nuts in the Neckar valley, I always thought, 'Well, they sing for themselves; and yet it makes me happy to hear them too, and every one who has ears;' and so do the birds sing for themselves, and yet we are delighted; and if every one sings his part well in church it all chords well together, and is beautiful."

Ivo embraced his Emmerence with transport.

"If only winter never came here," she said; "for it is rather solitary."

"Well, in winter you must come and live with me," said the well-known voice of Nat.

FLORIAN AND CRESCENCE.

1. THE GIRLS AT THE WELL.

On Saturday afternoon the house of the Red Tailor was alive with singing. Doors were opened and closed with a bang, windows thrown up, chairs and tables moved here and there, and the broom rattled among the lifeless bones; but over all was heard a rich, full, female voice, travelling up and down stairs, into rooms and out of passages. Song followed hard upon song, grave and gay meeting with equal favor. At last the singer was forthcoming,--a girl of stout proportions but the utmost symmetry of form. A jacket of knitted gray yarn set off the swelling outlines to the best advantage: one corner of the apron was tucked up and left the other hanging jauntily. With the milking-pail in her hand, she went to the stable. The words of the songs were now more distinctly audible. One of them ran thus:--

"I climb'd up the cherry-tree; For cherries I don't care. I thought I might my true love see: My true love wasn't there.

"It isn't long since the rain came down, And all the trees are wet; I had a true love all my own: I wish I had him yet.

"But he has gone abroad, abroad, To see what luck would do; And I have found another love: He's a good fellow, too."

With a water-bucket under her arm, she made her appearance again, locked the door of the house, and concealed the key under a stack of kindling-wood. The well before the town-hall was empty and locked up; the upper well, also under lock and key, was only opened by Soges every morning and evening, and water distributed to each family in proportion to the number of its inmates. This scarcity of water is a great evil, particularly in the heat of summer. On the way our heroine was stopped by Anselm the Jew's Betsy, who cried,--

"Wait, Crescence: I'll go with you."

"Hurry up, then. When is your intended coming back?" returned Crescence.

"At our Pentecost,--this day fortnight."

"When is it to be?"

"Some time after the Feast of Tabernacles. You must dance with us all day, mind. We'll have one more good time of it: we've always been good friends, haven't we?"

"Betsy, you ought to have married Seligmann and stayed here. A bird in the hand's worth two in the bush. Going all the way to Alsace! How do you know what's to become of you after you get there?"

"Why, how you talk!" replied Betsy. "With my four hundred florins, how am I to choose? And over there it counts for almost a thousand francs; and that's more like. Are you going to live in the village always? When your geometer gets an appointment, won't you have to go with him? Oh, did I tell you?--my intended went with Florian to the Schramberg market the other day from Strasbourg. Florian had I don't know how many--at least three hundred--ducats in his girdle, to buy beeves with. He carries himself like a prince, and his master trusts him with all his property. And they do say he's going to give him his daughter."

"I wish him much happiness."

"Now, you needn't make believe you didn't like Florian's little finger better than the whole geometer."

"What if I did? He's got nothing, and I've got nothing; and 'twice nothing is nothing at all,' says George the blacksmith."

The two girls had reached the well, where many of their companions were already awaiting the arrival of the officer of Government.

"Have you heard, Crescence?" cried Christian's Dolly--"Florian's come back an hour ago: you've got a full team to drive now."

"You preach to your grandmother," retorted Crescence: "such a beanpole as you may open every shutter of her windows and '11 never catch a gudgeon."

"That's it," said a girl with forward air and manners, who bore the ominous designation of "Corpse Kitty," because she fitted the shrouds. Passing her hand over her mouth, she went on:--"Give her her change, Crescence: we know it's all cash-down where you come from." She accompanied the words with a significant gesture.

"Oh, you're nervous because nobody will lend you any thing," replied the assailed one. "You're a sweet one, Dolly, to set _her_ a-going."

"Well, what did you fly at Dolly that way for?" said Melchior's Lenore: "she didn't mean any harm by it. Can't you take a little fun?"

"Has Florian really come home?" asked Crescence, softly.

"Of course he has," cried Corpse Kitty, aloud. "Just look out, you hemp-toad: you'll find you've 'most done carrying your head as high as a sleigh-horse: Florian will take the geometer's bearings before you know what's what."

Soges now appeared as another Moses to open the well for the daughters of Jethro: he did not seem to woo any of them, however, for he was not by any means in a bland or amiable frame of mind.

"Give Crescence the cream of the water: she's got to have the geometer's standees washed to-night," cried Kitty.

"Let her talk," said Lenore: "you can't worry her more than by not listening to her. She's just like the dogs: they bark at you, and if you walk on quietly they run home again and bark at the next person that comes along the road. She's after making everybody out as bad as she is herself, if she can. But you must be on the look-out about Florian now, or you'll get into trouble."

"Yes," said another girl: "he's brought lots of money with him, and the first thing he did was to give his father a gold ducat. The money must 'a' looked scared when it got into that room. The old fellow's so poor that the mice all ran away from him."

"Florian can dress and undress himself five times over and not take all the fine clothes out of his chest," said a third.

"And he speaks French 'most all the time."

"And he has a watch, with a chain, and all the tools of his trade hung to it in silver for charms."

"And he's got a black mustache you can hardly help kissing."

A dispute interrupted this torrent of items.

"What're you pushing me so for?" said Corpse Kitty to Kilian's Annie: "I'm not a rich chap."

"Hold your jaw, you!--you've been to the House of Correction twice already, and the third time's written on your forehead now."

"I'll mark your forehead," screeched Kitty, striking at Annie with her bucket; but she parried the blow, and struck another. A fierce struggle ensued: the buckets were dropped, and the combatants "clinched" hand to hand. After looking on passively a while, the others interfered, Soges particularly dealing official blows to the right and left with great vigor and impartiality. Like two fighting-cocks torn asunder, the hostile parties looked daggers at each other as they picked up their buckets. Annie brushed her hair out of her face, crying bitterly, and complaining that nobody was safe, nor ever would be, until Corpse Kitty was in the House of Correction for life.

Crescence's turn having come at last, she carried the heavy bucket home on her head and a still heavier load in her heart. Tears were rolling down her cheeks; but she pretended that they were drops from the bucket, and always wiped the lower rim of it with her apron. There was confusion in her heart now, and she foresaw still greater troubles in the future.

Having returned home, she went through with her work, but without singing another note.

Lest our readers should be at a loss to divine what a titled personage like a geometer should be doing in the village, it is proper to remind them that the general survey of the country took place about this time. Every nook and corner of the land was mapped, labelled, and numbered; and in the course of the operation a new element was infused into the life of the people. A race of "city fellows," belonging neither to the order of parsons nor to that of schoolmasters, made their way into the village: they were generally young, smart, and fond of enjoyment; and the importance they soon acquired among the female portion of the community has already become apparent.

These gentlemen received the sounding title of "geometers." A surveyor was a plain surveyor; and as these people, for some reason or other, were to appear to the peasantry in the light of a superior rank of beings, and, as it was important to disseminate a knowledge of and taste for the classics, they received the Greek addition. Crescence's playmate had married a geometer-general (should he not have been called a hypergeometer?) and lived at Biberach: this had made Crescence acquainted with one of his colleagues, and her parents were most anxious to push matters, for a better "providence" could not have been hoped for. The Red Tailor in his mind's eye already saw his daughter as Madame Geometrix-General.

2. FLYING OFF THE HANDLE.

It was dark. Crescence stood by the fire in the kitchen: the College Chap came in with very audible steps, and said,--

"Crescence, how are you? I want a pound of that tobacco. Have you got any left?"

"Yes, walk in: my mother 'll wait on you."

"I won't poison your soup if I do stay here a bit," he said aloud: then he continued, very softly, "Florian's got home. Come out a little after a while, and you shall hear us."

Without waiting for an answer, he went into the room. When he came out again, Crescence was gone.

A little later the voices of the three comrades were heard before the Red Tailor's house, singing, whistling, and laughing. Florian's, which had long been wanting, was doubly clear and full. Finding all their efforts unavailing, Peter cried under the window,--

"Crescence, isn't this your goose running about here?"

The College Chap, crouching behind the wood-pile, was cackling with the accent of a native.

The window was opened; but, instead of Crescence, the tailor's wife looked out, and said,--

"Crack your jokes before somebody else's house."

With a roar of laughter the College Chap returned to the middle of the road.

Within, Crescence sat with the geometer, paying but little heed to his blandishments: at last she feigned a headache and went to bed.

Tired of their fruitless watch, the three boys in the road bent their steps toward the inn. They had not gone far before they encountered Josey, the French simpleton. The College Chap cried, seizing him by the collar,--

"_Qui vive? la bourse on la vie?_"

"_Paridadoin mullien_," calmly replied the person addressed, meaning to say, "What do you want?"

"Here's a jolly lark!" cried the student, triumphantly. "Let's take Josey with us and make him do the geometer. Come; we'll treat you to a mug of beer."

"_Moin paroula goin_," answered Josey,--as if to say, "I've no objections." His words were all formed by accident; and he eked them out with nods and grins. Originally Josey was not more than half a simpleton; but the half which Nature had denied had been carefully educated into him by the wags of the village. If any villager has a mole in his disposition, he may be assured that his townsmen will stretch it into a mountain for their common behoof and education.

Nobody knew, or cared to know, what had given Josey the notion that he was master of all the living tongues. Some contended that he had been dry-nurse so long as to have acquired the baby-lingo by incessant practice. Be that as it may, it was impossible to address him in any real or imaginary language without receiving an instantaneous reply. This apart, he was as good a field-hand as many others; and, whether he understood the language of the beasts or not, they understood him and did his bidding. In church Josey was the only member of the congregation who nodded at every word of the Latin mass, to imply that he understood it to perfection.

This individual was for this evening the fourth member of the usually so exclusive confederacy of three.

"_Bon soir_," said Florian, as they entered the bar-room. He received a kindly welcome at all hands. The assembled guests scanned him from head to foot, and nodded to each other with looks that seemed to say, "A fine fellow, Florian; yes, if you want to come home you must go abroad first."

One who sat behind the stove said to his neighbor, "This is a better way to come back than that thief Schlunkel's: he's been twice to the penitentiary, and has just come back. I wish we were rid of him again."

Florian ordered a bottle of wine for himself and his comrades, while Josey was regaled with a mug of beer at an adjoining table.

When Babbett brought the refreshments, he remarked, in an under-tone, but yet loud enough to be heard by all, "_Comme elle est jolie!_--_bien jolie!_"

"_Qui?_" returned the College Chap. The company nudged each other,--to think they could talk French so well together.

Florian treated the whole company,--to their great satisfaction, for, though frequenters of the tavern, they sat there as dry customers: the stimulus made their hearts glad, and the sensation was reflected upon the spirits of Florian. He seemed to have expended his stock of French; for "Snuff the _chandelle_" is not pure Parisian.

The point of the joke was lost, nevertheless; for the geometer, who put up at the Eagle, was not there.

"Are you going to stay with us, Florian?" asked Babbett.

"_Nous verrons_: we shall see."

"Tell us something of your travels," said Caspar, the host, who felt it incumbent on him to promote the conversation. "Have you been to Paris?"

"Of course," answered Florian, in a tone of voice in which a shrewd observer would have detected the ring of false metal; "but I didn't like it there. Nancy's the finest place yet. Go into a tavern there, and the walls are all looking-glasses, the tables are marble, and you eat and drink out of nothing but silver. You ought to go there once: you'd open your eyes and ears."

These signs of absorbing attention now showed themselves in Florian's own features; for the geometer, with his two colleagues, entered the room. They passed through to the little back parlor, where a table was set for them.

Florian seized his glass, made it clink against those of his friends, and said, "_A votre santé._"

Caspar had lost his interest in Florian's narration, and hastened to meet the new-comers and light them to their supportable, which was set in the back room. Florian, twirling his mustache, asked Constantine, very softly, "Which is it?"

"The lobsided one, with long hair, that came in first."

For a time all were silent, and nothing was heard but the clatter of knives and forks behind the screen.

But suddenly Constantine began to sing:--

"Oh, man of geometry, Pull up your pegs: How can you see straight with such Shocking round legs?"

A burst of laughter filled the room, instantly succeeded by another silence. The knives and forks behind the screen were breathless also.

Florian got up and said to Josey, "_Comment vous portez-vous, Monsieur Géomètre?_"

"_Quadulta loing_," replied Josey, who continued to talk gibberish, amid renewed peals of laughter.

"'Wish you joy of your berth," said Constantine, taking the mop from the slop-bucket. "Here: just survey this table for me: you can do it very well, you know, for there's no need of brains."

Amid constant and increasing merriment, Josey entered upon his labors, and proceeded until Babbett came up, saying,--

"Have done with this, now, and crack your jokes somewhere else. Be quiet, Josey, or go about your business."

Josey struck the table and jabbered grimly. The screen was suddenly pushed aside, and Steinhaeuser, the admirer of Crescence, appeared, restrained by his two comrades from assaulting the mocker. Caspar tried to pacify him, and, as soon as he had partially succeeded, he stepped up to the three, and said, with more decision than might have been expected,--

"I'll tell you what: this sort of thing can't be done on my premises; and the sooner you know it the better. Drink your wine quietly, or I'll show you what's outside of the door. I won't have my guests insulted while I'm master of this house. No offence to one; but I will have order."

"_Juste_," said Florian: "all right: I'll find the gentleman somewhere else in good time. You hear, you lobsided lout over there? If I catch you within half a mile of Crescence again, I'll knock your crooked legs into a cocked hat, and then you may toddle on your tripod."

"You ragamuffin!" roared Steinhaeuser, before whom Caspar had posted himself. Florian made for him with a "Comapulation smash! _foudre de Dieu!_" but Caspar hauled him back, and Constantine was shrewd enough to interfere as a peacemaker.

The three left the house, followed by Josey. On the road they vowed never to patronize the Eagle again. Florian made an effort to go back, however: he hadn't given the landlord all his change.