The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 08

Without paying attention to the conversation of the two women, Uli drove to the designated inn. The hostess welcomed them and led them into a special room, as the mother had desired, after telling Uli to come right in. Then she ordered wine and a couple of plates with something to eat; driving had made them hungrier than they would have believed possible.

The order was brought, but Uli was missing. The hostess had been sent out after him, and came back and said she had told him; but still he did not come. Then the mistress said, "Go, Freneli, and tell him to come at once." Freneli hesitated and thought they oughtn't to compel him; if he was hungry or thirsty he'd come all right. "If you won't go," said her aunt, "I'll have to go myself." Then Freneli went out in a temper, and with stinging words drove Uli along, who had been standing in the sulks by the bowling alley and had at first refused to come. He could stay where he was, for all of her, she said; but her aunt had ordered it. It was she that wanted him to come; she herself, Freneli, had no desire to run after him any more.

Uli came at last, giving little answer to the many reproaches of his mistress for having to be forced to come. But she filled his glass heartily, forced him to eat, and kept up a chatter of talk—how well she had liked it at Cousin Johannes' house, and how she could now see where Uli had got his training. But he must have been especially good to them, too, for the children still hung upon him and their parents loved him almost like a son. "I suppose you'll want to go back to them, when you leave us."

"No," said Uli.

"It's not customary to ask, to be sure; but will you tell me where you are going?" asked his mistress.

"I don't know yet," said Uli; "I haven't been in a hurry to take a place, although I could have had several."

"Well then, stay with us; that's the best thing for both of us; we're accustomed to each other now."

"I hope you won't take it ill of me," he said; "but I don't intend to be a servant any more."

"Have you something else?" she asked.

"No," he answered.

"Well, if you don't want to be a servant any more, suppose we make you tenant on our farm."

This speech affected Uli like a sudden blow. He dropped his mutton-laden fork on his plate, but kept his mouth open, turned his saucer eyes upon his mistress and stared at her as if she had come down from the moon. Freneli, who had been standing at the window, vexed at Uli's slow eating, turned swiftly about and opened eyes and ears to see what would happen.

"Yes, look at me all you want," said the mistress to Uli; "I mean it seriously; if you won't stay as servant would you stay as leaseholder?"

"Mistress," said Uli at last, "how should I be able to become your tenant? I'm not able; I'd have to be lots better off than I am. You're only making game of me."

"No, Uli, I mean it," said his mistress, "and your not having money doesn't matter; we could arrange it so that it wouldn't cost you anything to begin; the whole place is furnished."

"But what do you suppose, mistress," exclaimed Uli; "even if you did this, who would be my security? A single bad year on such a farm would ruin me. The place is too big for me."

"Ho, Uli, that can be managed, and we're not such hard-hearted wretches as to let a tenant that suits us be ruined on account of a single year. Just say you're willing, and we'll fix all that."

"Well, mistress," said Uli, "even so; but who would look after the housekeeping for me? There's a lot to do there."

"Ho, take a wife," said she.

"That's easily said," answered Uli; "but where should I find one that would be the right person for it and that would have me?"

"Don't you know of anybody?" asked the mistress.

At that Uli's voice stuck in his throat, and hesitating and embarrassed, he poked around on his plate with his fork. But Freneli said quickly that it seemed to her it was time to go, for Blackie must have eaten his oats long ago and Uli had probably had enough by this time; they, could continue their jokes another day.

Without listening to these words her aunt finally said, "Don't you know of anybody? For I do."

Again Uli turned saucer eyes upon her; Freneli said she was curious too. Her aunt, with undisturbed, playful ease, one hand on the table, her broad back rested comfortably against her chair, said, "Give a guess; you know her." Uli looked around at the walls; he could not find the right word; he felt as if he had a whole bagful of mashed potatoes in his mouth. Freneli tripped up impatiently behind her aunt, remarking that they ought to start out, as it was getting dark. Her aunt, however, did not listen to Freneli, but went on, "Can't you think of her? You know her well. She's a hard-working girl, but acts up a little at times, and if you don't quarrel you can have a very good life together." Thereupon she laughed very heartily, and looked first at one and then the other.

Then Uli looked up; but before he had gulped out an answer Freneli intervened, and said, "Go and hitch up; Auntie, one can carry a joke too far, too. I wish I'd never gone along. I don't know why I can't be left in peace. Yesterday other folks made me angry, and today you're worse still. That's not kind, Auntie."

Uli had stood up to go out; but his mistress said, "Sit down and listen. I'm in earnest; I've said to Joggeli many a time that there never were two people better fitted for each other than you two; it was as if you'd grown up for each other."

"But Auntie," cried Freneli, "for goodness gracious sake, do stop, or I'll run away. I won't be auctioned off like a cow. Wait till Christmas; then I'll get out of your sight, or even before, if I'm so displeasing to you. Why do you take so much useless pains to bring two people together that don't want each other? Uli cares for me just as much as I do for him, and the sooner we part company the gladder I'll be."

But now Uli's tongue was loosened and he said, "Freneli, don't be so angry with me; I can't help this. But this much let me tell you; even if you do hate me, I've loved you this long time, and wouldn't want a better wife. Any one would be happy with you; if you'll have me, I'd be only too happy."

"Oh, ho!" said Freneli, "now that you hear about the farm and that you'd get it in lease if you had a wife, all at once I'll just suit you. You're a cheerful fellow! If you only got the farm you'd marry a hussy from the gutter, or a fence-post, wouldn't you? But oh, ho ho!" she laughed scornfully, "you've struck the wrong girl; I don't have to have a husband; I don't want any, and least of all a man that would marry a lamp-wick if there was a little oil on it. If you won't start off I'll walk home alone," and with that she was about to dart out of the door.

But Uli caught her and held her with a strong arm, resist as she would, saying, "No, truly, Freneli, you wrong me. If I could have you, I'd go out into the wilderness, where I'd have to clear the whole land before I could plant it. It's true that when Elsie flirted so with me, the farm went to my head and I'd have married her just on that account. But I'd have committed a heavy sin; for even then you were in my heart, and I always liked to see you a hundred times better than her. Every time I saw her I was frightened; but when I met you my heart always jumped for joy. Just ask Johannes; I told him this morning that I didn't know where under the sun I could find a better wife than you."

"Let me go," cried Freneli, who had carried on like an angry cat during all this handsome speech and had not even refrained from pinching and scratching.

"I'll let you go," said Uli, who manfully bore the scratching and pinching; "but you mustn't suspect me of wanting you only in case I could be tenant on the farm. You must believe that I love you anyway."

"I make no promises," cried Freneli, and she pulled herself free with all her might, and fled to the other end of the table.

"Why, you act just like a wild-cat," cried her aunt. "I never saw such a girl. But now be sensible, come and sit down beside me. Will you come or not? I'll never say another kind word to you as long as I live if you won't sit down here a minute and keep still. Uli, order another bottle. Keep still now, girl, and don't interrupt me," continued her aunt, and she went on to tell how she should feel if they both went away; what evil days awaited her; shed painful tears over her own children, and said that she could still be made happy if it might turn out as she had thought it through in her sleepless nights. If two people could be happy together, they were the ones. She had often told Joggeli that she had never seen two people that understood each other so well in their work and were so helpful to each other. If they kept on in the same way they must become very prosperous. They would do whatever they could to help them, she and Joggeli. They weren't like some proprietors, who weren't happy unless a tenant was ruined on their place every other year, and who spent sleepless nights planning to raise the rent when the tenant was able to pay the whole amount on time, because they were afraid he had got it too cheap. Truly, they'd do by her as by their own children, and Freneli would have a dowry that no farmer's daughter need be ashamed of. But if that didn't suit her and Freneli carried on so, then she didn't know what to do; she'd rather never go home again. She wouldn't reproach her; but she surely hadn't deserved to have Freneli act so now; she had always done by her as she thought right. And now Freneli was behaving in this way just to grieve her—that she could see; she hadn't been the same to her for a long time. And the good woman wept right heartily.

"But, Auntie," said Freneli, "how can you talk so? You've been a mother to me; I've always looked on you as such, and if I had to go through fire for you I wouldn't hesitate a minute. But I won't be forced upon such a puppy who doesn't want me. If I have to have a husband I want one who loves me and takes me for my own sake, not one that takes me along with the other cows as part of the lease."

"How can you talk so?" asked her aunt. "Didn't you hear him say he's loved you this long time?"

"Yes," said Freneli, "that's what they all say, one with another; but if they all choked on that lie there wouldn't be many weddings. He's no better than the rest, I guess; if you hadn't talked about the farm first, then you could have seen how much he'd have been in love with me. And it's not right of you to tell me nothing about all this, or to fling me plumb at his head like a pine-cone thrown to a sow. If you'd confided in me first I could have told you what's trumps with Uli. What he says is: 'Gold, I love you;' and then he expects us to hear: 'Girl, I love you.'"

"You're a queer Jenny," said her aunt, "and you act as if you was the daughter of a lord."

"That's just it, Auntie! Just because I'm only a poor girl, it's proper for me to hold myself high and not let myself be treated like a handful of fodder. I think I have more right to it than many a high-born girl, no matter whether she's the daughter of a lord or a farmer."

"But, Freneli," protested Uli, "how can I change that, and do I have to pay for it? You know well in your heart that I love you, and I knew just as little of what your aunt had in mind as you; and so it's not right of you to vent your anger on me."

"Ah," said Freneli, "now I begin to see that the whole thing was a put-up job; otherwise you wouldn't excuse yourself before I accused you. That's worse than ever, and I won't listen to another word; I won't let myself be caught like a fish in a net."

With that Freneli again tried to get up and run out; but her aunt held her fast by her bodice, saying that she was the wildest and most suspicious creature under the sun. Since when did she set traps for her? It was true that she had wanted to visit her cousin about this affair, and for that reason she had taken them both along. But what she had in mind nobody knew, not even Joggeli, much less Uli. She had commissioned her cousin to worm Uli's secrets out of him, and it was true that Uli had praised Freneli to the skies, so that her cousin had told her that Uli would take Freneli any time—the sooner the better; but that Uli was afraid to say anything to Freneli for fear she'd hold up Elsie against him. At that she had thought that she would speak, if Uli was afraid to; for that Uli didn't suit the girl, nobody could convince her; her eyes weren't in the back of her head yet. So Uli couldn't help it at all.

"But then why did he come into the room today while I was packing up and want to give me a kiss? He never did that before."

"Oh," said Uli, "I'll just tell you. After I had talked with old master today you were in my mind more than ever, and I thought I'd give everything I had if I knew whether you loved me and would have me. I didn't know a thing about the farm. Then when I found you alone, something came over me, I didn't know what; I felt a sort of longing in my arm; I had to touch you and ask for a kiss. At first I thought I had had one; but then later I thought it couldn't have been, or else you; wouldn't have pushed me out into the room so wildly. I thought you didn't care for me, and that made me so sad at heart that I wished Christmas was here and I could go away; indeed I was going far, far away down into Italy, so that nobody would ever hear anything of me. And I feel so still, Freneli, if you won't have me. I don't want the lease, and I'll go away and away, as far as my feet will carry me, and no one shall ever know where I've gone."

He had stood up and stepped up to Freneli, and tears stood in his honest eyes; while they were rolling down her aunt's cheeks. Then Freneli looked up at him and her eyes grew moist, though mockery and defiance still quivered about her mouth; but the repressed love broke through and began to send its shining rays out of her eyes, while her maidenly reluctance cast up her lips as bulwark against her surrender to his manly insistence. And while her eyes radiated love, still there came forth from behind the pouting lips the mocking words: "But, Uli, what will Stini say, if you're after another girl so soon? Won't she sing to you:

 
'A dove-cot would be just as true:
It's off with the old love, on with the new.'"
 

"But how can you play the fool with him so?" queried her aunt; "you see he's in earnest. If I was in his place I'd turn my back on you and tell you to whistle for me if you wanted me."

"He's free to do it, Auntie, and you don't know but I wish he would," said Freneli.

"No you don't," retorted her aunt; "I can hear that in your voice. And Uli, if you're not a stupid, you'll put your arms around her this minute; she won't shove you out into the room now, trust me."

But her aunt was mistaken. Once more the girl summoned all her strength, and whirled about so sharply that she almost shook off Uli again. But her strength did not hold out. She fell on Uli's breast and broke out in loud, almost convulsive weeping. The two others almost became frightened, as her sobbing seemed to have no end; they did not understand what was the matter. Uli comforted her as well as he could, and begged her not to go on so: if she'd rather not have him, he could go away, he wouldn't torment her. Her aunt was vexed at first and told her she was silly; that in her day girls hadn't put a hound to shame with their howling when they found a sweetheart. But then she became alarmed and said she wouldn't force the girl; if she was unwilling to have Uli she could do what she liked for all of her. Only for goodness sake she shouldn't go on so; the innkeepers might wonder what was happening.

Finally Freneli recovered enough to tell them just to leave her in peace; that she would try to compose herself. She had been a poor orphan all her life, and an outcast from childhood. No father had ever taken her on his lap, no mother ever kissed her; never had she had a breast to lay her head on. She had often thought it wouldn't be hard even to die, if only she could sit on somebody's lap and clasp somebody around the neck; but during all her childhood nobody had loved her, and she had had no home. She couldn't say how often she had wept alone. Her longing had always and always been to have somebody that she could love with all her heart and all her soul; to find somebody on whose breast she could hide her head at all times. She had never found a chum to satisfy her longing. And so when folks talked to her about marrying, she had thought she never would unless she could believe from the bottom of her heart that she had found the breast on which to lay her head in joy and sorrow, and which would be true to her in life and death. But she had found none that she could have such faith in. She loved Uli, had loved him long, more than she could say; but this faith in him she hadn't yet been able to have. And if she was deceived this time, if Uli's love and loyalty weren't true and genuine, then her last hope would be gone, then she'd never find the breast she sought, and would have to die unhappy. That was why she was so afraid, and she begged them on her knees to leave her in peace, so that she could consider thoroughly what was best for her to do. Oh, they didn't know how a poor orphan felt, that had never sat on her father's lap, or been kissed by her mother!

"You're a dear silly child," said her aunt, wiping her wet cheeks. "If I'd known that that's what you wanted I certainly wouldn't have grudged you an extra kiss now and then. But why didn't you say so? A body can't think of everything; when you have to plan all day long what to give your folks to eat, you don't stop to think about who's to be kissed."

Uli said he had deserved it; it only served him right, and he ought to have known that it would be so. But if she could look into his heart she'd see how much he loved her and how honestly. He wouldn't excuse himself; he had thought of marrying several times, but never had he loved any one as he did her. But he wouldn't coerce her; he would simply have to be content to accept her will in the matter.

"Why, you can just hear," said her aunt, "how much he loves you. Come, take your glass and drink health to Uli, and promise him that you'll be the wife of the leaseholder of Slough Farm."

Freneli stood up, took her glass and drank the health, but made no promise, only begging them to leave her in peace for today, and say no more about it; tomorrow, if must be, she would give her answer.

"You're a queer Jenny," said her aunt. "Well then, Uli, hitch up; our folks will wonder where we are."

Outside, the stars were twinkling against the dark-blue background; small wisps of white mist hovered over the moist meadows; single streamers rose along the valley slopes; mild breezes rocked the faded foliage; here and there on the pasture a forgotten cow tinkled her bell for her forgetful master; here and there a frolicsome lad sent his merry cry flying over hill and dale. The commotion of the day and the driving lulled the old woman into deep sleep, and Uli, with tense muscles, held in the wildly racing Blackie to a moderately fast pace; Freneli was alone in the wide world. As far off in the distant sky the stars floated in the limitless space of the unfathomable blue ocean, each by itself in its solitary course, so she felt herself again to be the poor, solitary, forsaken girl in the great turmoil of the universe. When she had left aunt and uncle, when they were dead, she would have no one left on earth; no house for a refuge in time of sickness; no one to tell her troubles to; no eye to laugh and weep with her; no person that would weep when she should die; yes, perhaps no one who would escort her coffin to that narrow, cold resting-place that they would some day have to assign her. She was alone; solitary and forsaken she was to wander through the turmoil of the world to her lonely grave; perhaps a long journey through many, many lonely years, more bowed, more discouraged and powerless from year to year—an old, withered, despised creature, to whom scarce any would give refuge, even though begged for it in the name of the Lord. New sorrow quivered in her heart, lamentations were about to well up. Why did the good Father, who was called Love, let such poor children, who had nobody in the world, live, to be cast out in childhood, seduced in their prime, despised in old age? But then she began to feel that she was sinning against God, who had given her more than many had, who had preserved her innocence to this day, and had so formed and developed her that an abundant living seemed secured to her if God preserved her health. Little by little, as the hill-tops and the tree-tops peeped out of the mist, so the love-tokens which God had visibly scattered through her life began to appear—how she had been guarded here and there, how she had enjoyed many more cheerful days than many, many poor children, and how she had found parents too, much better than other children had, who, if they had not taken her to their hearts like father and mother, had still loved her and so brought her up that she could face all people with the feeling that she was looked upon as a real human being. No, she might not complain of her good Father up yonder; she felt that His hand had been over her. And was His hand not over her still? Had He perhaps taken compassion on the poor lonely girl? Had He decreed, since she had remained faithful till then and tried to keep herself unspotted by sin, to satisfy now the longing of her heart, to give her a faithful breast to lay her head on-something of her own, so that one day somebody would weep at her death, somebody escort her on the sad road to the gruesome grave? Was it perhaps Uli, the loyal, skilful servant, whom she had loved so long in her reserved heart; whom she could reproach with nothing save his mistake with Elsie, and that he too had been seized by the delusion that money makes happiness; who had so faithfully and honestly laid bare his heart and repented of his error? Was it not a strange dispensation that they had both come to this particular place, that Uli had not gone away before, that Elsie had had to marry, that the desire had come to her aunt to give the lease of the farm to Uli? Was it not wonderful how all that fitted in together; was not the Father's kind hand evident in it? Should she scorn what was offered her? Was it something hard or repulsive that was asked of her? Now her spirit unveiled its pictures, peopled the desolate future with them. Uli was her husband; she had taken root in life, in the broad world; they were the centre about which a great household revolved, circling about their will. In a hundred different forms this picture rose before her eyes, and ever fairer and lovelier became the harmony of its colors. She no longer knew that she was driving in the wagon; her heart felt as light and happy as if she were already breathing the air of that world where there is no more care, no more sorrow—but just then the wagon bumped over a stone.

Freneli did not feel it; but her aunt awoke with a long yawn and asked, finding it hard to collect her thoughts, "Where are we, hey? I haven't been asleep, I hope."

Uli said, "If you look sharply, you can see our light yonder through the trees."

"Gracious, how I have slept! I wouldn't have believed it. If only Joggeli doesn't scold because we're so late."

"It doesn't matter," said Uli; "and Blackie can rest tomorrow; we don't need him."

"Well, well," said his mistress, "then that's all the better. But when horses get home late and have to start out early, that's maltreatment. Just imagine how we'd feel if they did the same to us—run, run all the time, and no time for eating and sleeping."

As they heard the approaching wagon, all the inhabitants of Slough Farm rushed out of the doors with candles and lanterns, some to the horse, others to the wagon; even Joggeli limped up, saying, "I thought you wouldn't get here today, thought something had happened."