On the Heights: A Novel. Auerbach Berthold
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good and brave, and the queen was lovely, and a son was born to them who inherited the father's virtues and the mother's beauty; it might have been a daughter, but they would rather have it a son. Now when the son was born, they summoned a spirit who lived in the palace, and was called Doctor Puck; and they said to him: Puck, dear Puck, pack up your things, and pack yourself off to the mountains as fast as you can; for there, by the border of the lake, is a pretty little cottage in which there sits a mother who's tidy, strong, and good, and who's to be the foster-mother of the little prince, who is as good as his father, and as lovely as his mother. And the foster-mother shall have whatever her heart wishes for, and shall make her husband and child happy; and the king and the queen and the prince, and-but look up, Walpurga! look at this gentleman. He's the kind spirit named Doctor Puck, and he comes from the king and the queen. Do you understand me, Walpurga?"
The young mother rested her head upon the back of the chair and closed her eyes. She drew a long breath and uttered not a word. At that moment Hansei returned with the sponsor and the babe. The mother hurried to her child and taking it in her arms, rushed out into the garden with it, Stasi running after her.
"What's the matter?" asked Hansei, casting angry glances at the doctor and the stranger.
"Sit down, my worthy Hansei, and I'll tell you all about it. And it's well that you're here, too, my good friend of the Chamois: remain with us. The rest of you may all leave the room."
Suiting the action to the words, Doctor Kumpan hurried out the villagers, who had been drawn there by curiosity. Then, accepting a pinch of snuff from the innkeeper, he said: "Hansei, make a bow; you must know that this gentleman is the court physician. He's sent here by the king, who wants you to lend him your wife for a year."
The doctor's overbearing manner so enraged Hansei, that he almost felt like putting him and the court doctor out of the room, and was already squaring his shoulders for the attack.
Motioning Kumpan to be silent, Sixtus told Hansei that, by the king's orders, he had sought information in regard to him, and that it had seemed as if the people did not know whom to praise the most-Hansei or Walpurga. Hansei grinned self-complacently, and now Sixtus acquainted him with the king's pleasure.
"Many thanks for the kind words," replied Hansei; "I'm much obliged to the king for his good opinion of me. I know him well; I rowed him across the lake twice while he was yet a merry lad, and a wide-awake huntsman. Tell the king that I hadn't thought he'd still remember me, but I can't part with my wife. I couldn't be so cruel to her, to myself, and, above all, to our child."
It was the longest speech he had ever made. He wiped the perspiration from his brow, and turned toward the table. He was as hungry as a wolf, and, seeing the nicely cut cake, took a piece, exclaiming: "Before I do it, may this morsel-"
"Don't swear!" cried the innkeeper, taking the cake from him. "Don't swear; you can do as you please; no one can compel you."
"And no one wishes to," said Doctor Sixtus; "may I have a piece of cake?"
"To be sure you may! Help yourself, – and you too, doctor! We've wine also. Ah, doctor, this day two weeks ago, out on the road, things looked very serious!"
There was eating and drinking, and with every morsel that Hansei swallowed, his face grew more cheerful.
"It seems to me, Mr. Landlord, that you could explain the matter to him better than we," said Sixtus. The innkeeper offered Hansei a pinch of snuff, with the words: "It would be a great honor to the village and to the whole neighborhood. Just think of it, Hansei! the king and the crown prince-"
"Perhaps it's a princess," interrupted Sixtus.
"Oh!" said Hansei laughing, "and so the child isn't born yet?" But while laughing, he thought to himself: "There's still time to think the matter over." Then he laughed again at the thought, for, with all his simplicity, he was rogue enough to determine to reap the greatest possible advantage from it; he couldn't think of such a thing for less than a thousand-no, two thousand-and, who knows, perhaps even three thousand florins. Hansei would probably have gone up to a hundred thousand if the innkeeper had not resumed the conversation, and thus interrupted the current of his thoughts.
"Hansei is perfectly right; he says neither 'yes,' nor 'no'; he says nothing; for here the wife must decide. He's a good husband, and won't force her to do anything against her will. Yes, gentlemen, although we're only simple country folk, we know what's right."
"It does you credit to respect your wife so," said Doctor Sixtus. The innkeeper took another pinch of snuff and went on to say: "Of course; but after all, if I may be allowed to speak my mind freely, a woman's only half a man in reason and judgment. With your permission, Herr Court Doctor, I think we'd better say no more for the present, but call the wife. She's ever so good."
Happiness and misery, pride and humility, were depicted in Hansei's features.
"Whatever she says, I'll abide by," said he.
He was proud of possessing such a wife, and yet dreaded her decision. He pulled at the buttons of his coat as if to make sure they were all there. At last, urged by the innkeeper, he went out into the garden and called Walpurga, who was still sitting under the cherry tree.
CHAPTER VI
After Walpurga had hurried out into the garden and had pressed the babe to her bosom, she quietly gave it to Stasi, saying:
"Take the child; I daren't feed it now. Oh, you poor, dear thing! They want to take me away from you. What harm have you ever done that they should treat you so? And what have I done? But they can't make me go! And who'd dare try? But what have they come for? Why to me? Come, darling, I'm all right again. I'm with you, and we'll not part from each other. I'm quite calm again."
When Hansei came to call Walpurga, he found her quietly pressing the child to her bosom and kissing its little hands.
"If you've had your talk out, do come in."
Walpurga motioned him to be quiet, lest he should disturb the child. He stood there silently for a while; not a sound escaped father, mother, or child; naught was heard but the starlings in the cherry-tree, who were feeding their young. Swift as the wind itself they would fly from their nests and return again. At last, the child, its hunger thoroughly sated, but its lips still softly moving, dropped back on the pillow.
"Come into the house," said Hansei, in a voice far gentler than his rough looks would have led one to expect, "Come in, Walpurga. There's no need of being rude, and there's nothing wrong in what they ask of us. They can't force us, you know, and we can thank them, at any rate. You can talk to strangers much better than I can. It's your turn to speak now; and I'll be satisfied with whatever you say or do."
Walpurga handed the child to the grandmother, and accompanied Hansei into the house. She looked back several times, and almost stumbled at the very threshold.
As soon as she entered the room, Doctor Sixtus came up to her, and, addressing her in a gentle, insinuating manner, said:
"My good woman! I should think it a sin to induce you to do anything that your heart condemns. But I feel it my duty to urge you to reflect upon the matter calmly and dispassionately."
"Many thanks. But-I hope you won't think ill of me-I couldn't be so cruel to my child." Her eye fell on Hansei, and she quickly added, "Nor my husband either. I can't go away and leave them all alone."
"Why they won't be alone; your mother's here," said the innkeeper, interrupting her. Doctor Sixtus interposed:
"Don't interrupt her, if you please, sir. Let her speak for herself, and pour out her whole heart. Pray go on, my good woman."
"I've nothing more to say; I know nothing more. Yes, there's one thing more. I've never been in service, except to do an odd day's work, now and then. I was born in this cottage, and I've lived here up to this time, and 'twas here my husband came to see me. I've never thought of leaving it, and I can't think of doing so now. I've never slept in a strange bed. If I had to leave here and go to the city for so long a time, I'd die of homesickness; and what would become of my child and my husband? I'm sure the king don't want us all to die of grief."
"I'd like to say a word, too," said Doctor Kumpan, casting an