Waldfried Part 46

"About that time, I often heard the word 'America,' and, as I was told to call everybody 'uncle,' I once inquired where 'Uncle America lived?'

whereupon they laughed very loud, and the man with the curled hair, whom I had to call father, kissed me.

"There was a maid living with us, who would always say, 'You poor child, you must go to America, among the savages. O you poor child!'

"And one morning, I heard them say that we would go to America that day. Down by the Rhine there was a great crowd and noise, and when we were on the vessel, some one said, 'Keep your seat here, or you will be left behind?' And when all was confusion on s.h.i.+pboard, I stealthily crept on sh.o.r.e, and hid myself behind some hogsheads in which the bees were humming; they did not trouble me. I heard the ringing of the bell, and the paddling of the wheels--but did not move. I had a little satchel full of cakes, which I ate.

"The embroidered satchel had been presented to me by the Prince, whose picture hung under the mirror. I still own it; it is the only memento I have of that time. And we had a dog whose name was Pincher, and for that reason I called my poor departed dog by the same name.

"When at last evening came, I crept out of my hiding-place, and saw a great crowd gathered about an old woman who was sitting on the ground and lamenting: They have purposely left me behind; they did not want to take me with them!'

"The people told her they would help her, and would give her money that she might follow her relatives. But she always replied, 'No, I will not do that; they do not want me.' And they gave the old woman money and went on their way. And when they had all gone, I said to her, 'Take me with you; I am worth ten thousand florins.'

"Then she laughed and said, 'Indeed you are!' And then I told her that I had secretly remained behind--that I did not want to go to America.

"She laughed again, and took me on her lap, saying: 'That is right. We two will stay together.'

"And we wandered far and near, and she told every one that I was her granddaughter. We received many gifts, and every one told me that I was so pretty; and I told the old woman--her name was Jaegerlies--that I had wings, and she said, 'I believe it: they will grow again when I am dead.' But I am telling you silly stuff--am I not?"

"No, no; go on."

"At last we reached yonder forest, and then Jaegerlies said, 'Let us stay here.' She had acquaintances who lived in the neighborhood, but she had no desire to meet any one, as they always laughed at her because her folks had left her behind when they emigrated to America.

"The gifts that we had received, had enabled us to buy cooking utensils, coverings for our moss beds, and a goat; and of food we could always have plenty.

"The summers were pleasant, but the winters were not so. We caught many birds, which served as food.

"I was also sent to school, and it was quite humiliating to me to be always told that I was a 'Jew girl.' I did not know what was meant by Jew, but I knew, that it was intended as a term of disgrace. I am not sure, but I think my mother was a Catholic.

"And thus I grew up and could wield the axe as well as the strongest wood-cutter; and no one dared to lay a finger on me.

"You might blind-fold me, and I could, by my sense of smell, recognize trees or their leaves. I carried a serpent's egg on my person; I had found it one morning between eleven and twelve, and had pocketed it. I had also a gift of finding wild honey, and the bees never harmed me when I took the combs. I was once employed that way, when Ernst came up to me. He acted as if he were about to punish me for what I had done; but I told him that this was not breaking of the laws of the forest, and that it was not poaching. And then he said to me, 'You are wild honey yourself.'

"Thus Ernst found me and brought me here, where I now am. But I do not deserve it. They say that Ernst is in Algiers, with the wild Turks.

Give me some money that I may go to him--I can find him.

"But tell me now, Ludwig, how do you know that my mother is in America?"

"I know nothing of it; I simply guessed so, because you always have such a fear of America."

"So you are the son of such parents--and yet can lie? Your mother in heaven will never forgive you for that."

Ludwig was moved by this apostrophe, and asked Martella to forgive him.

She nodded a.s.sent and shook hands with him and with me, saying at the same time: "Father, I shall do nothing more but what you tell me to do.

I shall never again act of my own free will."

"Were you always called Martella?" inquired Ludwig.

"No."

"How, then?"

"Conradine."

"Who gave you the name of Martella?"

"Jaegerlies."

"Why?"

"Because, she said, 'No one will know you by that name, and if they seek you they cannot find you.'"

"But how did she chance on that name?"

"That you ought to have asked her. And that is enough. Good-night."

Martella walked away.

Ludwig afterward told me that he had been making inquiries over in the valley where Jaegerlies had been living. He could not understand why we had not done so long before. Now it might be very difficult to discover anything, as Jaegerlies had died a few days before.

He had learned, from the neighbors, that she often spoke of America in a mysterious and indistinct manner, and that, together with Martella's aversion to the very mention of America, caused him to question her in the way he had done.

CHAPTER XIV.

In spite of Martella's and Ikwarte's trouble, the great feast was pleasantly remembered in our house and throughout the village. Annette said: "Whenever I gave a large entertainment, it always grieved me to see the many people, who had just been together so cheerful and so lively, suddenly disappear. And it was always especially agreeable to me when several of my more intimate friends would remain. We would then gather together for a little quiet enjoyment, and so a smaller and more congenial circle succeeded the larger one; for that reason, I think some of us ought to remain here."

I saw Richard looking at Annette, and it was the first contented, happy glance I had ever seen him direct towards her. He had intended to leave, but now concluded to stay. It seemed as if, in spite of themselves, they had always chanced on points on which they could not agree, but now at last, and to their great delight, found themselves in accord.

Annette had greatly changed. She would no longer suddenly bound from one subject to another. Her manner had become calmer. She had learned how to put her questions modestly and yet firmly, and also how to be quiet.

Once she said, "Martella has told us what is the severest punishment.

It is this: to lose faith in one's self, and to learn that excitement and weakness place us in the hands of chance or of strangers, and cause us to express the very things that we have desired most of all to keep within ourselves."

The festival brought painful consequences to Rothfuss, Ikwarte, and Carl, as well as to Martella. They went about without saying a word, and Annette, who was anxious to help, and quick to sympathize with others, tried her best to cheer them up.

One morning, we were sitting in the garden. Richard and Conny had gone over to the village, and Ludwig said to Annette, "We do not know how to thank you for having given my wife so true and feeling a description of mother."

Annette now expressed her delight with Conny, and when she asked Ludwig how he had made her acquaintance, he said,

"If father does not object to hear the story over again, I will tell you."

I consented, and Ludwig went on:

"The Americans have one thing in common with the old Romans; whenever they found a city, they provide, above all things, for pure water.

There happened at the time to be a lively discussion in regard to the building of water-works. I hoped that the contract would be a.s.signed to me, and travelled about for some distance through the neighboring country, in order to find the best springs. A mountain brook whose stream could easily be led into another, seemed to me best adapted for the purpose.