"But here I pass a pleasant life, and have opportunities of being the cleverest among the ignorant and making myself indispensable to them! I am so already; the Sovereign has shown himself to me as one comrade does to another, and he can, if I do as he wishes, as little part from me as the parchment from the writing on it."
He wiped the cold sweat from his brow.
"I myself will find the manuscript," he continued, more confidently. "Jacobi Knipsii sollertia inventum. I know the great secret, and I will search day by day where only a wood-louse can creep or a spider hang its web. Then it will be for me to decide whether I shall take the Professor as an assistant to edit it, or another. Perhaps I will take him and he will be thankful to me. He will hardly find the treasure, he is too dignified to listen and to spy out where the chests are concealed."
The Magister hastened his steps; the wind whistled in sharp tones behind him, – it tore from the trees the dry leaves of the last year, and scattered them on the hat of the little man. The dust whirled more rapidly round him; it covered the dark Court dress with a pale grey coating, it pursued and enveloped him, so that the foliage of the trees and the figures of men disappeared from his sight, and he hastened onward wrapped in a cloud of dust and dead leaves. Again he raised his pocket-handkerchief, sighed, and wiped the perspiration from his temples.
CHAPTER XXXI.
HUMMEL'S TRIUMPH
There was a lowering sultriness in nature, and also in the busy world of men. The barometer fell suddenly; thunder and hail coursed over the country; confidence was gone, stocks became worthless paper; lamentation followed arrogance; water stood in the streets; and the straw hats disappeared as if wafted away by the storm.
Whoever in these changing times might wish to observe Mr. Hummel in a good-humored frame of mind must do so in the afternoon before three o'clock, when he opened his garden door and seated himself near the hedge. During this hour he gave audience to benevolent thoughts; he listened to the striking of the city clock, and regulated his watch; he read the daily paper, counted the regular promenaders, who daily walked at the same hour to the wood and back again to the city, and he accosted his acquaintances and received their greetings. These acquaintances were for the most part householders, hard-headed men, members of the city commissions, and councillors.
To-day he was sitting at the open door, looking proudly at the opposite house, in which some secret commotion was perceptible; he examined the passersby, and returned with dignity the bows and greetings of the citizens. The first acquaintance was Mr. Wenzel, a gentleman of means, and his sponsor, who for many years had taken a constitutional every day, summer and winter, through the meadows to get into perspiration. It was the one steady business of his life, and he talked of little else.
"Good day, Hummel."
"Good day, Wenzel. Any success to-day?" asked Mr. Hummel.
"Pretty fair, only it took a long time," said Mr. Wenzel, "but I must not stop. I only wanted to ask you how things are going with him over the way?"
"Why that?" asked Hummel, annoyed.
"Do you not know that his book-keeper has disappeared?"
"What!" exclaimed Mr. Hummel.
"They say he has speculated on the stock exchange, and escaped to America. But I must be off; good day."
Mr. Wenzel hastily departed.
Mr. Hummel remained in a state of great astonishment. He heard the voice of the city-councillor calling out:
"Good day, Mr. Hummel-a warm day-90 degrees in the shade. Have you heard?" he said, pointing with his stick to the neighboring house.
"Nothing," cried Hummel; "one lives in this place like in a prison. Whether it is fire, pestilence, or the arrival of high personages, it is only by pure accident one hears of it. What is all this about the absconding book-keeper?"
"It appears that your neighbor placed too much confidence in the man, and he has secretly used the name of his employer in some mad speculations, and fled last night. They say it is to the amount of forty thousand."
"Then Hahn is ruined," said Hummel, "irredeemably. I am not surprised at it; the fellow has always been impractical."
"Perhaps things are not so bad," said the councillor, as he left him.
Mr. Hummel remained alone with his thoughts. "Naturally." He said to himself, "It was inevitable. In everything, high-flown-houses, windows, and garden fancies-never any rest; the man is gone out like a candle."
He forgot the passers-by, and moved backwards and forwards on his main walk, looking sometimes with curiosity at the hostile house. "Out like a candle," he repeated, with the satisfaction of a tragic actor who endeavors to give the most terrific expression to the telling words of his rôle. He had vexed himself half a century about that man; before his disposition to corpulency had begun, he had despised this man's ways and business. This feeling had been his daily entertainment; it was one of his daily necessities, like his boot-jack and his green boat. Now the hour was come when fate paid off the man over the way for having injured Mr. Hummel by his presence in life. Hummel looked at the house and shrugged his shoulders; the man who had placed that deformed structure before his eyes was now in danger of being driven out of it. He looked at the temple and the muse; this toy of the poor devil would soon be torn down by some stranger. Hummel went to the sitting-room; there also he walked up and down, and told his wife of Mr. Hahn's misfortune in short sentences. He observed, out of the corners of his eyes, that Mrs. Philippine hastened, nervously, to the sofa, and frequently clasped her hands; and that Laura rushed into the next room, and could not refrain from bursting into tears; and he repeated, with dreadful satisfaction, the terrible words: "He has gone out like a candle."
He behaved in the same way at the factory; he paced slowly up and down the warehouse, looked majestically on a heap of hareskins, took one of the finest hats out of a bandbox, held it towards the window, gave it a stroke with the brush, and muttered again: "It's all up with him." To-day his book-keeper, for the first time in his life, was late at his desk: he had heard of the misfortune on his way; he related it in an excited manner to his principal, and finally maliciously repeated the unfortunate words: "It's all up with him." Hummel gave him a piercing look, and snorted so that the timid heart of the clerk sank within him.
"Do you wish also to become manager of my business like that runaway? I thank you for this proof of your confidence. I have no use for such bandit-like proceedings; I am my own manager, sir, and I object to every kind of secret dealing behind my back."
"But, Mr. Hummel, I have carried on no secret dealings."
"The devil thank you for that," roared out Hummel, in his fiercest bass. "There is no more confidence on earth: nothing is firm; the holiest relations are unscrupulously violated; one can no longer trust one's friends; now even one's enemies make off. At night you lie down to sleep quietly as a German, and in the morning you wake up as a Frenchman; and if you sigh for your German coffee, your hostess brings a dish of Parisian spinach to your bed. I should be glad to learn of you on what spot of this earth we are now settled."
"In Valley Row, Mr. Hummel."
"There the last remains of our good genius spoke out. Look through the window. What stands there?" pointing to the neighboring house.
"Park Street, Mr. Hummel."
"Indeed?" asked Hummel, ironically. "Since primeval times, since your ancestors sat on the trees here nibbling beechmast, this place has been called Valley Row. In this valley I laid the foundations of my house, and enclosed in the wall an inscription for later excavators: 'Henry Hummel, No. 1.' Now the machinations of yonder extinguished straw-man have upset this truth. In spite of my protest in court, we have become transformed into park denizens by a police ordinance. Scarcely has this happened, when that man's book-keeper transforms himself into an American. Do you believe that Knips, junior, this salamander, would have ventured on this misdeed if his own principal had not set him the example? There you have the consequences of everlasting changes and improvements. For twenty years we have gone on together, but I believe now you are capable of throwing up your place and entering into another business. Bah, sir! you ought to be ashamed of your century."
It was a sorrowful day for the Hahn family. The master of the house had gone to his office in the city at the usual hour in the morning, and had awaited his book-keeper in vain. When at last he sent to the young man's dwelling, the porter brought back word that the former had departed, and left a letter on his table for Mr. Hahn. Hahn read the letter, and sank down upon his desk with sudden terror. He had always carried on his business like an honest tradesman. He had begun with small means, and had become a well to do man by his own energy; but he had confided his money matters more to his clever clerk than was prudent. The young man had grown up under his eyes, and had gradually, by his pliant, zealous service, won full confidence, and had shortly before been granted the right of signing the name of the firm to financial obligations. The new manager had succumbed to the temptations of these turbulent times and had, unknown to his principal, ventured on rash speculations. In the letter he made open confession. He had stolen a small sum for his flight: but Mr. Hahn would on the following day have to meet his losses to the amount of about twenty thousand thalers. The thunder-bolt fell from a clear heaven into the peaceful life of the merchant. Mr. Hahn sent for his son. The doctor hastened to the police-office, to his solicitor, and to his business friends, and returned again to the office to comfort his father, who sat as if paralyzed before his desk, hopelessly looking into the future.
Dinner-time came, when Mr. Hahn must impart his misfortune to his wife, and there was lamentation within the house. Mrs. Hahn went distractedly through the rooms, and Dorothy wrung her hands and cried. In the afternoon the Doctor again hastened to his acquaintances and to money-lenders; but during this week there was a panic, every one mistrusted the other. Money was scarce, and the Doctor found nothing but sympathy, and complaints of the fearful times. The flight of the book-keeper made even confidential friends suspicious as to the extent of the obligations of the firm. Even by a mortgage on the house, with the greatest sacrifice, no sufficient sum could be obtained. The danger was more threatening every hour, the anguish greater. Towards evening the Doctor returned home to his parents after his last fruitless expedition. To his father he had shown a cheerful countenance, and comforted him bravely; but the thought was incessantly present to his mind, that this misfortune would divide him utterly from his loved one. Now he sat weary and alone in the dark sitting-room, and looked towards the lighted windows of the neighboring houses.
He well knew that one friend would not fail his father in distress. But the Professor was at a distance, and any help he could give would be insufficient; at the best it would come too late. There were only a few hours before the decisive moment. The intervening time, one of rest for all others, was one of endless torture to his father, in which he contemplated, with staring eyes and feverish pulse, a hundred-fold the bitterness of the ensuing day, and the son was terrified at the effect which the dreadful strain would have on the sensitive nature of his father.
There was a slight rustle in the dark room-a light figure stood beside the Doctor. Laura seized his hand and held it fast within hers. She bent down to him, and looked in his sorrowful countenance. "I have felt the anxiety of these hours. I can no longer bear solitude," she said, gently. "Is there, no help?"
"I fear, none."
She stroked his curly hair with her hand.
"You have chosen it as your lot to despise what others so anxiously desire. The light of the sun, which illumines your brow, should never be darkened by earthly cares. Be proud, Fritz; you have never had cause to be more so than at this hour, for such a misfortune cannot rob you of anything that is worth a pang."
"My poor father!" cried Fritz.
"Yet your father is happy," continued Laura, "for he has brought up a son to whom it is scarcely a sacrifice to be deprived of what appears to other men the highest happiness. For whom had your dear parents amassed money but for you? Now you may show them how free and great you rise above these anxieties for perishable metal."
"If I feel the misfortune of this day to my own life," said the Doctor, "it is only for the sake of another."
"If it could comfort you, my friend," exclaimed Laura, with an outburst of feeling, "I will tell you today that I hold true to you, whatever may happen."
"Dear Laura!" cried the Doctor.
Her voice sang softly in his ear like a bird:
"I am glad, Fritz, that you care for me."
Fritz laid his cheek tenderly on her hand.
"I will endeavor not to be unworthy of you," continued Laura. "I have long tried in secret all that I, a poor maiden, can do, to free myself from the trivial follies that trouble our life. I have considered fully how one can keep house with very little, and I no longer spend money on useless dress and such rubbish. I am anxious also to earn something. I give lessons, Fritz, and people are satisfied with me. One requires little to live upon, I have found that out. I have no greater pleasure in my room than the thought of making myself independent. That is what I have wished to express briefly to you to-day. One thing more, Fritz; if I do not see you, I always think of and care about you."
Fritz stretched out his arms towards her, but she withdrew herself from him, nodded to him once more at the door, then flew swiftly across the street back to her attic room.
There she stood in the dark with beating heart; a pale ray of light gleamed through the window and lighted up the shepherd pair on the inkstand, so that they seemed to hover illuminated in the air. This day Laura did not think of her secret diary, she looked towards the window where her loved one sat, and again tears gushed from her eyes; but she composed herself with quick decision, fetched a light and a jug of water from the kitchen, collected her lace collars and cuffs and soaked them in a basin-she could do all this herself too. It was another little saving, it might sometime be of use to Fritz.
Mr. Hummel closed his office and continued to rove about. The door of Laura's room opened, the daughter shrank within herself when she saw her father cross the threshold solemnly, like a messenger of Fate. Hummel moved towards his daughter and looked sharply at her weeping eyes.
"On account of him over the way, I suppose." Laura hid her face in her hands, again her sorrow overpowered her.
"There you have your little bells," he grumbled in a low tone. "There you have your pocket-handkerchiefs and your Indians. It is all over with the people there." He slapped her on the shoulder with his large hand. "Be quiet. We are not responsible for his ruin; your pocket-handkerchiefs prove nothing."
It became dark; Hummel walked up and down the street between the two houses, looking at the hostile dwelling from the park side, where it was less accessible to him, and his broad face assumed a triumphant smile. At last he discovered an acquaintance who was hastening out of it, and followed him.
"What is the state of the case?" he asked, seizing the arm of the other. "Can he save himself?"
His business friend shrugged his shoulders.
"It cannot remain a secret," he said, and explained the situation and danger of the adversary.
"Will he be able to procure money to meet it?"
The other again shrugged his shoulders.
"Hardly to-morrow. Money is not to be had at any price. The man is of course worth more; the business is good, and the house unencumbered."
"The house is not worth twenty thousand," interposed Hummel.
"No matter; in a sound state of the money market he would bear the blow without danger, now I fear the worst."
"I have said it, he has gone out like a candle," muttered Hummel, and abruptly turned his steps towards his house.
In the Doctor's room father and son were sitting over letters and accounts, the light of the lamp shone on the gilded titles of the books against the wall, and the portfolios containing the treasures industriously collected by the Doctor from all corners of the world, and bound up and placed here in grand array-now they were again to be dispersed. The son was endeavoring to inspire his despairing father with courage.
"If the misfortune cannot be prevented which has come upon us like a hurricane, we must bear it like men: you can save your honor. The greatest sorrow that I feel is that I can now be of so little use to you, and that the advice of every man of business is of more value than the help of your own son."
The father laid his head on the table, powerless and stupefied.
The door opened, and from the dark hall a strange form entered the room with heavy steps. The Doctor sprang up and stared at the hard features of a well-known face. Mr. Hahn uttered a shriek and rose hastily from the sofa to leave the room.
"Mr. Hummel!" exclaimed the Doctor, alarmed.
"Of course," replied Hummel; "it is I, who else should it be?" He laid a packet on the table. "Here are twenty thousand thalers in certified City Bonds, and here is a receipt for you both to sign. To-morrow you shall give a mortgage for it upon your house: the papers must be repaid in kind, for I do not mean to lose by it, exchange is too bad now. The mortgage shall run for ten years, in order that you may not think I wish to take your house; you can pay me back when you please, the whole at once, or by degrees. I know your business, no money can now be obtained upon your straw; but in ten years the loss may be recovered. I make only one condition, that no human being shall know of this loan, least of all your wife, and my wife and daughter. For this I have good reasons. Do not look at me as the cat looks at the king," he continued, turning to the Doctor. "Set to work, count the bonds and note their numbers. Make no speeches, I am not a man of sentiment, and figures of rhetoric are no use to me. I think of my security also. The house is scarcely worth twenty thousand thalers, but it satisfies me. If you should wish to carry it off I should see it. You have taken care that it should be near enough to my eyes. Now count, please, and sign the receipt, Doctor," he said, authoritatively, pushing him down on his chair.
"Mr. Hummel," began Hahn, somewhat indistinctly, for it was difficult for him to speak in his emotion, "I shall never forget this hour to the end of my life." He wished to go up to him and give him his hand, but the tears streamed from his eyes and he was obliged to cover his face with his pocket-handkerchief.
"Be seated," said Hummel, pushing him down on the sofa; "steadiness and stoicism are always the main thing; they are better than Chinese toys. I shall say nothing further to-day, and you must say nothing to me of this occurrence. To-morrow everything will be made smooth before the notary and the registrar, and interest must be punctually paid, quarterly; for the rest, our relation to each other remains the same. For, you see, we are not merely men, we are also business people. As a man, I well know what are your good points, even when you complain of me. But our houses and our business do not agree. We have been opponents twenty years, felt against straw, with our hobbies and our trellis-work fences. That may remain so; what is not harmonious need not harmonise. When you call me bristles and felt, I will be coarse to you, and I will consider you as a straw blockhead as often as I am angry with you. But with all that, we may have, as now, private business together; and if ever, which I hope will never happen, robbers should plunder me, you will do for me as much as you can. This I know and have always known, and therefore I am come to you to-day."
Hahn gave him a look of warm gratitude, and again raised his pocket-handkerchief.
Hummel laid his hand heavily upon his head, as with a little child and said, gently, "You are a visionary, Hahn. The doctor is ready now; sign, and do not either of you take this misfortune too much to heart. There," he continued, strewing sand over the paper carefully, "to-morrow, about nine o'clock, I will send my solicitor to your office. Stay where you are; the staircase is badly lighted, but I shall find my way. Good night."
He entered the street, and looked contemptuously at the hostile walls. "No mortgage?" he muttered. "H. Hummel, first and last, twenty thousand;" At home he vouchsafed some comforting words to his ladies. "I have heard that the people there will be able to pull through, so I forbid further lamenting. If ever, in conformity with miserable fashion, you should need a straw hat, you may take your money rather to the Hahns than to others; I give my permission."
Some days after Fritz Hahn entered the small office of Mr. Hummel. The latter motioned to his bookkeeper to withdraw, and began, coolly, from his arm chair, "What do you bring me, Doctor?"
"My father feels it a duty to meet the great confidence that you have shown him, by giving you an insight into the state of his business, and begs you to assist him in his arrangements. He is of opinion, that until this disastrous affair has passed over, he should do nothing important without your assent."
Hummel laughed. "What! I am to give advice, and that too, in the management of your business? You would put me in a position that is preposterous, and one against which I protest."
The Doctor silently placed before him a statement of assets and liabilities.
"You are a sharp customer," cried Hummel, "but for an old fox this trap is not cunningly enough laid." With that he looked at the credit and debit, and took a pencil in his hand. "Here I find among the assets five hundred thalers for books that are to be sold. I did not know that your father had this hobby also."
"They are my books, Mr. Hummel. I have of late years spent more money upon these than was absolutely necessary for my work. I am determined to sell what I can do without; a book-dealer has already offered to pay this sum in two instalments."
"The sheriff is never allowed to levy on instruments of trade," said Hummel, making a stroke through that entry in the ledger. "I believe, indeed, that they are unreadable stuff, but the world has many dark corners; and as you have a fancy to be an anomalous dick among your fellows, you shall remain in your hole." He regarded the Doctor with an ironical twinkle in his eye. "Have you nothing further to say? I do not mean with reference to your father's business, I have nothing further to do with that, but upon another subject, which you yourself seem to carry on; from your movements of late you evidently wish to associate yourself with my daughter Laura?"
The Doctor colored. "I should have chosen another day for the declaration which you now demand of me. But it is my anxious wish to come to an understanding with you concerning it. I have long entertained a secret hope that time would lessen your aversion to me."
"Time?" interrupted Hummel; "that's absurd."
"Now by the noble assistance which you have extended to my father, I am placed in a position towards you which is so painful to me that I must beg of you not to refuse me your sympathy. With strenuous exertion and fortunate circumstances it would now be years before I could acquire a position to maintain a wife."
"Starving trade," interposed Mr. Hummel, in a grumbling tone.
"I love your daughter and I cannot sacrifice this feeling. But I have lost the prospect of offering her a future which could in some measure answer to what she is entitled to expect; and the helping hand which you have extended to my father makes me so dependent on you that I must avoid what would excite your displeasure. Therefore I see a desolate future before me."
"Exactly as I prophesied," replied Mr. Hummel, "wretched and weak."
The Doctor drew back, but at the same time he laid his hand on his neighbor's arm. "This manner of language will serve you no longer, Mr. Hummel," said he smiling.
"Noble, but abject," repeated Hummel with satisfaction. "You should be ashamed, sir; do you pretend to be a lover? You wish to know how to please my daughter Laura, such an evasive, forlorn specimen as you? Will you regulate your feelings according to my mortgage? If you are in love, I expect that you should conduct yourself like a rampant lion, jealous and fierce. Bah, sir! you are a beautiful Adonis to me, or whatever else that fellow Nicodemus was called."
"Mr. Hummel, I ask for your daughter's hand," cried the Doctor.
"I refuse it you," cried Hummel. "You mistake my words. I do not think of throwing my daughter into this bargain also. But you must not misunderstand my refusal to give you my daughter; your duty is to pursue her more fiercely than ever. You must attack me, and force yourself into my house; in return for which I reserve to myself the right to show you the way out. But I have always said it, you are wanting in courage."
"Mr. Hummel," replied the Doctor, with dignity, "allow me to remark that you should no longer be on the offensive with me."
"Why not?" asked Hummel.
The Doctor pointed to the papers.
"What has happened in this matter makes it difficult for me to use strong language to you. It can be no pleasure to you to attack one who cannot defend himself."
"These pretentions are really ridiculous," replied Hummel. "Because I have given you my money must I cease to treat you as you deserve? Because you, perhaps, are not disinclined to marry my daughter, am I to stroke you with a velvet brush? Did one ever hear such nonsense?"
"You mistake," continued the Doctor, civilly, "if you think that I am not in a position to answer what you say. I therefore do myself the honor of remarking to you that your mockery is so wounding that even the kindness you have shown loses its value."
"Have done with your kindness-it was only kindness from revenge."
"Then I will as honestly tell you," continued the Doctor, "that it was a very bitter hour to me when you entered our house. I knew how oppressive the obligation which you then conferred upon us would be for the rest of my life. But I looked at my poor father, and the thought of his misery closed my mouth. For my own part, I would rather have begged my bread than taken your money."
"Go on," cried Hummel.
"What you have done for my father does not give you a right to ill-treat me. This conversation strengthens me in the conviction that I have had from the outset, that we must exert ourselves to the utmost to repay you the money we have received, as soon as possible. You have crossed out the item in which I credited my books, but I shall sell them."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Hummel.
"I shall do it, however insignificant the sum may be in comparison with our debt, because the tyranny which you wish to exercise over me threatens to become insupportable. I at least will not be indebted to you in this way."
"Yet you wish it in another way that suits you better."
"Yes," replied the Doctor. "As you have so contemptuously rejected the greatest sacrifice I could make, I shall continue to woo your daughter, even against your will. I shall endeavor to speak to her whenever I can, and to make myself as acceptable to her as is possible in my position. You yourself have shown me this way. You will therefore be satisfied if I enter upon it, and if you are not, I shall pay no regard to your displeasure."
"At last," cried Hummel, "it all comes to light I see now that you have some fire in you; therefore we will talk quietly over this business. You are not the husband whom I could have wished for my daughter. I have kept you away from my house, but it has been of no use, for a cursed sentiment has arisen between you; I therefore intend now to carry on the affair differently. I shall not object to you coming to my house sometimes. I depend upon your doing it with discretion. I will ignore your presence, and my daughter shall have an opportunity of seeing how you compare with the four walls. We will both await the result."
"I do not agree to this proposal," replied the Doctor. "I do not expect that you should give me your daughter's hand now, and I only accept the entrance into your family on condition that you yourself will treat me as becomes a guest in your house, and that you will perform the duties of a friendly host. I cannot suffer that you should speak to me in the way you have done in our conversation to-day. Any insult, either by words or by neglect, I will not bear from you. I am not only desirous to please your daughter, but also to be agreeable to yourself. For that I demand opportunity. If you do not agree to this condition, I prefer not to come at all."
"Humboldt, do not undertake too much at once," replied Mr. Hummel, shaking his head, "for you see I esteem you, but I really do not like you. Therefore I will consider how far I can make myself pleasant to you; I assure you it will be hard work. Meanwhile, take these papers with you. Your father has bought the lesson, that he should himself look after his own money affairs. For the rest, matters are not in a bad state, and he will be able to help himself out of it; you do not need either me or another. Good morning, Doctor."
The doctor took the papers under his arm.
"I beg you to shake hands, Mr. Hummel."
"Not so hastily," replied Hummel.
"I am sorry for it," said the Doctor, smiling, "but I cannot be denied to-day."
"Only from innate politeness," rejoined Hummel, "not from good will."