Black Forest Village Stories Part 37

"_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 a.s.saulting 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 c.o.c.ked hat, and then you may toddle on your tripod."

"You ragam.u.f.fin!" roared Steinhaeuser, before whom Caspar had posted himself. Florian made for him with a "Comapulation smas.h.!.+ _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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Constantine was shrewd enough to interfere as a peacemaker.]

"Thunder an' ouns!" said Constantine, "stay here, I tell you. You're the best man for flying off the handle in Wurtemberg. Be quiet, now: we'll manage to lay the geometer out some time, and make him forget the resurrection of the legs."

This counsel prevailed; and, to compensate themselves for their enforced inaction, they travelled through the village, the College Chap howling like a whipped dog, and making, as he expressed it, all the dogs in the houses rebellious.

3.

WEEKDAY LIFE ON SUNDAY.

Next day Crescence did not dress in her Sunday clothes to go to church, but complained of being unwell, and remained at home.

The tailor, when he came home from church and saw his daughter in dishabille, said,--

"What's that? Be quiet, I tell you, once and for all," he continued, seeing Crescence about to speak. "You don't feel very well, because Florian's come back, and you don't want to be seen in the street. I've heard all about the fuss he had with the geometer last night. Now, just for spite, you must go to the Horb Garden to-day with the geometer.

That's what I tell you: and one word's as good as a thousand."

"I'm sick."

"No use. Go up-stairs and dress yourself, or I'll measure your clothes with this yardstick."

"Let him talk," said the tailor's wife, who had entered by this time: "what he says is for the mice to dance by. Crescence, if you don't feel well, stay at home. If it depended on him, you wouldn't have a shred of clothes to put on, good or bad: all he can do is to put his feet under the table three times a day and get himself fed like a billet of soldiers."

The tailor advanced upon Crescence; but his wife posted herself in front of her, clenched her fists, and scared her liege-lord into a corner.

These people were fresh from church, where they had prayed and sung of love, peace, and happiness. Their hymn-books were still in their hands, and already had Discord resumed its reign.

Indeed, we have stumbled upon a peculiar household. The mother had been the parson's cook, and had married the tailor rather suddenly.

Crescence was her oldest child, and she had, besides, a son and a daughter. She still wore citizen's dress, with the sole exception of the black cap of the peasant-woman, which, from its superiority in cheapness to the lace caps of the votaries of Paris, seems destined to survive all other traces of the peculiar costume of the peasantry.

During the early part of their wedded life they lived together very harmoniously; for where there is plenty of all things needful none but the most quarrelsome contract habits of dispute. Such a state of things is ent.i.tled, among the refined as well as among the vulgar, a happy match!

The tailor worked at his trade, and his wife kept a little shop for the sale of groceries and odds and ends.

But what is more subject to the fas.h.i.+ons than those kings of fas.h.i.+on, the tailors? Balt only worked for the gentlefolks and for the Jews, who also wore citizens' dress: make peasants' clothes he could not,--and would not, for he had been to Berlin. New compet.i.tors established themselves in the village and in the neighborhood, and Balt would run about for days without finding work.

This induced him to enter upon a speculation, in which we find him still engaged. He went to Stuttgard in company with Anselm Meyer, Betsy's father, and bought old clothes to make new ones of. He particularly affected the old scarlet swallow-tail coats of the court footmen, in procuring which Anselm was of great a.s.sistance to him, as he had made acquaintances in high places in the times when all things wanted for the court were obtained on the contract-system. These liveries were cut up into red waistcoats for the peasants, such as are worn in the Black Forest to this day. They also purchased the old uniforms of the officers, and transformed the red lining of the warrior's habiliments into vestments for the peaceful shepherd. It was said, however, that Anselm managed to monopolize the lion's share of the profits, besides securing an additional commission at the hands of the ill.u.s.trious venders.

From the time that Balt went out of fas.h.i.+on and the fortunes of the house began to ebb, the couple ceased the practice of ever exchanging a word of good feeling. Balt was scarcely permitted to hold a spoon in his hand long enough to eat his dinner. He could hardly call his soul his own; and, though nominally the master-tailor, he had not the power to cut a piece of bacon to his liking of a Sunday. Wherever he was, he was in his wife's way: she was absolute mistress, for she went on a trip every fall, and after her return the establishment always showed symptoms of a good supply of funds.

The children clung to the mother, of course, for not only had Balt fallen from his high estate, but he was not much at home. He hardly showed himself, except to eat and sleep. The former was well salted with pithy conversation, and the latter soothed with a well-ordered lecture.

Crescence now looked contemptuously at her father. The geometer entered, and at once the father and mother ran over with the milk of human kindness and loved each other tenderly. Crescence alone looked sad, and her lips trembled.

"Hurry, Crescence, and get dressed," said her mother. "Mr. Geometer, will you take dinner with us to-day? Do, please. It's nothing much, to-be-sure,--sourcrout, dumplings, and ham; but you'll like it for all that: Crescence did the cooking." A shrill giggle accompanied almost every word, the effect of which was further enhanced by a way the good lady had of twitching her nose as she spoke.

Balt exerted all his eloquence, and almost resorted to "gentle compulsion," to induce the geometer to stay. He took his hat out of his hand and refused to return it, well knowing that if the geometer stayed there would not only be a peaceful dinner, but perhaps also a quart of beer. This hope was realized. Cordele, the youngest daughter, was sent to the Eagle, and returned with a bottle under her ap.r.o.n,--a concealment not owing to any scruple of public opinion on the subject of temperance, but to that desire to make a secret of every thing which arises in every village as a foil to the habitual endeavor of everybody to know every thing about everybody else's business.

Crescence, finely dressed, but with eyes inflamed with weeping, brought the dinner. To guard against inquiries, she complained of smoke in the kitchen. Thus the dinner was richly spiced with falsehood. Before the geometer had half cleared his plate the worthy hostess put another piece upon it. He thanked her heartily for this hospitality, not perceiving that the good lady had only removed the savory morsel to s.n.a.t.c.h it away from her lord and master, who had honored it with his preference. From a similar motive, she took such excellent care to keep the guest's gla.s.s replenished that very little of the beverage came to the tailor's lips. The conversation was carried on by the lady of the house and the geometer exclusively. When the latter narrated the insolence of Florian, Crescence blushed, but found an excuse for leaving the table.

After dinner Balt said, "Now, wife, get in a cup of coffee."

"None for me, I thank you," said the geometer.

The tailor's wife was not so ill-mannered as to press the refreshment upon her guest against his will, for she grudged her husband his share of it. She afterward boiled a cup for herself, and toasted a biscuit to eat with it.

When the afternoon church was over, Crescence could not avoid taking a walk with the geometer; but she managed to keep clear of the street and go along the back fences of the gardens. When they approached George's ninepin-alley, she started with fright on seeing Florian standing there in his s.h.i.+rt-sleeves with his back to the road. Throwing a piece of money on the ground, he said, "'Bet you six creutzers I'll make five."

Under the pretext of having forgotten something, Crescence turned round quickly, and the geometer had nothing to do but to follow her. On arriving at home, they surprised her mother at her private cup of coffee,--which was unpleasant. They now took the street of the village.

Florian had no other design on this Sunday than to attract attention, in which he succeeded brilliantly. Everybody spoke of him,--of his black velvet roundabout with silver b.u.t.tons, his free rifleman's vest of red and black stripes, and his other glories. The people of a village, as of a city, are grateful to any one who will furnish them with a subject of conversation. The old butcher, Florian's father, drank in the fame of his son from every mouth, and did his best to keep it at the full. He was still rather a handsome man himself, with a rubicund face and bright gray eyes. He walked about in his s.h.i.+rt-sleeves and carried his handkerchief in the armpit of his waistcoat,--which gave him an air of originality. Whenever he met any one, he drew out his snuff-box and offered a pinch of "doppelmops,"

saying, "My Florian brought it with him: he's a fine fellow, a'n't he?

None like him for twenty miles around. His master would give him his daughter in a minute, but the rapscallion won't have her. His master makes more out of hoofs than three Horb butchers do out of beef: he kills eight calves every day and two or three oxen besides. What would you think," he would generally add, taking off his little frontless cap, formed in the resemblance of a cabbage-leaf, and putting it on again, "if I was to go to Strasbourg and marry the girl? If she must have a tall man, why shouldn't the old one be as good as the young? I won't back out for any one yet a while."

[Ill.u.s.tration: He stopped at the door of George the blacksmith.]

He stopped longest at the door of George the blacksmith,--a childless old man of more than eighty years of age,--who was always sitting before his house at the roadside and hearing the news from all who pa.s.sed by. Old George and old Maurita of the Bridge were the two persons through whom a piece of news could be brought to the cognizance of every soul in the village. George repeated every thing, good or bad, to tease others and to show them that he knew every thing; Maurita told the good news to impart her gladness, and the sad ones to obtain sharers in her regret. George the blacksmith was the largest purchaser of the old butcher's vaunts.

Thus the Sunday pa.s.sed; and, when Crescence returned with the geometer, long after dark, she thanked her stars that the dreaded fracas had not occurred.

4.

HOW FLORIAN AND CRESCENCE MET AGAIN FOR THE FIRST TIME.

Crescence rose an hour before daybreak next morning, fed the cattle, and attended quietly to the house-affairs. Once she looked up with pain when it occurred to her that she had not hummed a single tune. She went into the field.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Crescence with a bundle of fresh clover on her head.]

With a bundle of fresh clover on her head, she came up the valley on her return, looking beautiful, as the healthful exercise brought out her fine form in all its strength and pliancy. With her right hand she held the bundle, and with her left the rake, which lay on her shoulder and also served to steady the load. She walked with leisurely and measured pace, the red blossoms blinking into her rosy face. Not far from Jacob's crucifix, the voice of Florian, who said, "G.o.d bless you, Crescence!" rooted her to the earth.