Black Forest Village Stories Part 44

"The fire may be extinguish'd, Love cannot be diminish'd; Fire burns to scathe and kill, But love burns hotter still."

Florian never dosed an eye that night: he had a letter from Crescence, and yet he could not read it. At the first ray of morning, he was at the window, and read:--

"I don't know whether this letter will get into your hands or not; and so I won't sign my name. I have been to town to get my certificate of settlement. Betsy has got a place for me in Alsace: I'm going off the day after to-morrow. I have had a long dress made, too. My mother is dead, and my father is going to marry Walpurgia the seamstress. I need not tell you that I can never forget you, even if you had done I don't know what. If you have been bad once, you're not bad now. I know that.

Be good and patient, and bear your fate. Our Lord is my witness, I'd gladly take it on myself. I got your father to give me your knife, which you always liked so much; I hope, with G.o.d's blessing, to see you work honestly with it, someday. Only don't give up hope; for then you would be quite lost. Don't reproach yourself about what's past and gone: that won't do any good: but be good now. With the first money I earn I'm going to redeem your ring and my garnets. Oh, I have so much to tell you! ten clerks couldn't write it down. I will close, and be yours till death."

The letter was bathed in a flood of happy tears. Never till now did Florian know the treasure he possessed in Crescence. And he had not a little joy left, besides, for the thought that his precious knife was safe.

14.

MISERY AND FUN.

Florian was sent to the penitentiary for six years. He was almost pleased to lay aside his velvet roundabout and put on in place of it the gray coat of the convict; for his favorite was thus saved for those happy days in which he hoped to see Crescence again. Indeed, the six years seemed a mere week to his imagination. His heart was so full of hope again that he skipped over the interval of time as if it had been but a span.

Monarchical governments have their advantages, and in some respects put those of republics to shame. Here every man is fortunate as long as he is free; but, once immured in the walls of a prison, his rights and his comforts become every man's business, and therefore n.o.body's, and society neither knows nor cares whether he is properly fed, clothed, and watched, or whether his jailors enrich themselves on the sale of the food he should eat, or make his ordinary comforts contingent upon the alacrity he displays in doing their menial services. In Europe it is otherwise. There the government, and its hirelings the office-holders, consider every individual their natural enemy so long as he lives on his own exertions, and withholds a fragment of his existence from the surveillance of the high and mighty. With unrelenting taxation, and interminable regulations, prohibitions, and prescriptions, they waste his substance and goad him into prison; but, once there, their wishes are accomplished, and they treat him henceforth with paternal kindness. Favors shown to prisoners can never be regarded as concessions to civil liberty, and therefore they are freely extended. Whoever finds his way there may calculate upon friendly treatment. Perhaps, instead of opposing the government, it would be better for the citizens to bring about a general measure of criminal incarceration as the surest road to the good-will of their sovereigns.

Still, the time pa.s.sed but slowly. He learned the art of making brushes. When at length and at last the day of delivery came, he hastened to Crescence. He was received with open arms. With a little money, which she had saved out of her earnings, they both travelled from village to village as brush-makers. But soon Florian renounced this trade for one more satisfactory to his peculiar desire for admiration. He attended the fairs, markets, and harvest homes as rope-dancer and juggler. His great exploit was the sword-trick, which consisted in throwing three swords around in a circle and always catching them by the handle: he had mastered the principle when engaged in chopping sausage-meat. Crescence clung to him faithfully through all this; and once, when he fell from the rope and broke his leg, she nursed him with the most tender care.

After this he purchased a gambling-table and frequented the markets and harvest-homes of the adjoining countries of Germany,--the game of dice having been, in the mean time, prohibited in Wurtemberg. It is the peculiar good fortune of Germany that every one may cultivate his besetting sin there to his heart's content, if he can only find the proper princ.i.p.ality. What would have become of Florian had he not been a son of that favored country? He could not have made a living out of that which had first led to his ruin. Whenever this occurred to him, he raised his voice, as if to encourage himself: his morsel of French stood him in good stead,--for it is the most respectable dress for immorality that was ever fas.h.i.+oned.

"_Messieurs, faites votre jeu!_" he would say. "Step up, step up: play here, gentlemen. _Messieurs_, eight creutzers for one creutzer: one creutzer has eight young ones. _La fortune_, _la fortune_, _la fortune!_ A creutzer is nothing: out of nothing G.o.d made the world: out of no money money will come. Step up, _Messieurs: faites votre jeu!_"

Often, when his tricks began to pall on the taste of the crowd, and he found time to observe the young fellows dancing and making merry, a two-edged sword would pierce his heart: he had been like them once, and like the finest among them; and now he was a despised joker for the amus.e.m.e.nt of others. To banish such thoughts, he would grow, more and more extravagant in his sallies, and endeavor to persuade himself that he was doing it all for his own edification.

Of four children, only two survived,--the oldest boy and a little girl.

Never would Florian suffer them to look at him when he drove his trade.

They were kept in a barn or a farmer's room, with the household goods of the family.

Once only Crescence took courage to suggest that it might be for the advantage of their children if they were to go home and try to support themselves there by their daily labor.

"Don't talk of it," said Florian, gnas.h.i.+ng his teeth: "ten horses wouldn't drag me up the Horb steep again. I lost my honor there; and never, never will I look at the Nordstetten steeple again!"

15.

A CHILD LOST AND A FATHER FOUND.

In Braunsbach by the Kocher, opposite Maerxle's house, is a linden-tree, toward which a strolling family might have been seen making their way one Sunday afternoon. The father--a powerful man, in a blue smock and gray felt hat numerously indented--was drawing a cart which contained a whetstone and some household-utensils. A gaunt, brown dog, of middle size, was his yokefellow. The woman a.s.sisted in helping the cart forward by pus.h.i.+ng from behind. The two children followed, carrying some dry sticks gathered along the road. Arrived at the tree, the man took off the strap by which he was harnessed, threw his hat on the ground, wiped the perspiration from his forehead, and sat down with his back resting against the tree. Though much altered, we cannot but recognise Florian and his family.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Florian and his family.]

The dog had lain down beside him, resting his head on his fore-paws.

The boy caressed him.

"Leave Schlunkel alone now, Freddie," said Florian. "Go and help your mother."

The boy obeyed quickly: he knew that his father was out of humor by his calling the dog "Schlunkel,"--for whenever Florian was ill at ease he tortured himself by giving to the sharer of his burden the name of the man who had first made him unhappy.

Crescence, meantime, had taken the stand and the kettle from the cart, had made a fire and placed the kettle filled with water upon it.

"Go and got us some potatoes," said she to Freddie. He took a pot and went up to a house which looked down upon their resting-place. The beams of the framework in the walls--visible, as is always the case in that part of the country--were painted a bright red. An elderly man was looking out of the window.

"Won't you be so kind," asked Freddie, "as to give us some potatoes?

G.o.d reward you!"

"Where are you from?" asked the man, who looked as if he had eaten a good dinner.

"My father always says, 'From the place where people are hungry too.'"

"Is that your father down there?"

"Yes: but don't be too long about it if you want to give us any thing, for our wood's all burning away."

The man came down and opened the door: the neighbors wondered how Peter Mike came to open his house to a beggar.

Freddie soon came out again with a potfull of potatoes and a little lard in a bowl. Soon the boiled potatoes became a porridge, and after all the family had dined the dog received permission to lick the plates.

Florian arose, and pa.s.sed through the village, crying, "Scissor-grinder from Paris!" Freddie went from house to house to get work, promising the best of Parisian edge. And, without doubt, Florian was perfectly master of his new trade.

Peter Mike spent the afternoon in following the scissor-grinder from place to place. It gave him pleasure to follow his agile motions and hear the pretty tunes he whistled. He also chatted a little with the woman and the children. At dark he even tendered them his barn as a night's lodging. All the village cried, "A judgment! a judgment! Stingy Peter Mike is getting kind!" And yet this was but a trifle compared with what followed. Peter Mike sat down with them in the barn, and said, "Let me keep this boy of yours. I'll do well by him. What do you say to it?"

Seeing them look at each other in astonishment, he went on:--"Sleep on it, and tell me what you think of it in the morning."

Florian and Crescence talked for half the night without coming to any conclusion. The mother, much as her inclination protested against it, was ready to give up her child, in order to give it a prospect in life, and the hope, at least, of an ordinary education.

Florian said little, but looked at the boy as he slept in the moonlight, looking very beautiful.

"He'll be a rouser some day," he said at last, turned over on his side, and fell asleep.

It may seem strange that Peter Mike, with such a reputation for avarice, should suddenly offer to adopt the child of a stroller; nor was charity his only motive. He was alone and childless,--had rented out his fields, and lived upon his income. His brother's children--the only kindred he had--had offended him in someway; and he wished to mark his displeasure by the adoption of a stranger's child. Besides, the boy with the clear blue eyes had inspired him with an unaccountable affection.

At daybreak Peter Mike was at the barn-door, and asked whether they were awake. Being answered in the affirmative, he requested Florian and Crescence to come up to his room, in order to discuss the question.

They complied.

"Well, how is it? Have you made up your minds?" he asked.

"Why," said Florian, "the plain English of it is, we should like to give up the boy very well, because he would be in good hands with you and could learn something; but it won't do: will it, Crescence?"

"Why won't it do?"

"Because we want the boy in our business; and we must live too, you know,--and our little girl."

"See here," said Peter Mike: "I'll show you that I mean you well. I'll give you a hundred florins,--not for the boy, but so that you can go about some other business,--a trade in dishes, or something of that kind. A hundred florins is something. What do you say?"

The parents looked at each other sorrowfully.