3 Books To Know Nobel Prize in Literature. Paul Heyse
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cried the young girl, starting from her seat.
"I beg your pardon," stammered Franzelius, "I ought to have knocked. But I have so many things to think of—sit still, Fraulein Reginchen, I—I only wanted—I came—"
He clutched his cap convulsively in one hand, and was brushing the brim with his elbow.
"My mother has gone out," said Reginchen, to make a little conversation. "But father is still in the work room. If you want to speak to him—"
"Oh no—but allow me—" He picked up the knitting she had dropped, but in so doing let his cap fall, and as she now stooped for it, their heads came in contact somewhat violently. He blushed crimson, but she burst into a merry laugh.
"That's owing to the short days," said she. "But father is anxious to save the gas. I drop so many stitches!"
Then both were silent again.
At last the printer, pausing before the case of ladies' shoes and gazing into it as intently, as if he were endeavoring to count each individual pair, said:
"You're fortunate, Fräulein Reginchen. You can stay in this house. I—I must—from to-day I shall—"
"Are you going away on a journey, Herr Franzelius?"
"No, Fräulein Reginchen, or rather yes!—it amounts to the same thing. I—I'm glad I've met you—I should like—I didn't want to leave without a farewell—"
"Are you going away for long?"
"No one can tell—perhaps I shall never return. Fräulein Reginchen, I cannot hope—you know I—I have always revered you—"
She laughed again in her merry childish way; but if the shop had not been so dark and he had looked at her, he would probably have noticed the deep blush that suffused her face. "Oh gracious!" she exclaimed. "Revered! No one ever did that before. A stupid creature like me, who can't do anything and doesn't understand anything, as mother tells me every day—"
"You don't know your own worth, Reginchen, and that's the best proof of it—I mean that it's no false worth. But excuse me for telling you this so bluntly: It's the first—and last time. And of course you—if I don't come back—will never give me another thought."
The prudent child seemed to know that silence is sometimes the best answer. She coughed several times, and then said: "Where are you going?"
"Wherever the winds and waves carry me!" he replied with sorrowful pathos, and then paced heavily up and down the shop.
"So you're going to sea! Dear me, how frightened I should be! Do you know, Herr Franzelius, I shall tremble every time that the east wind blows and the window panes rattle and the gas lights flicker—and you'll be on the angry sea—"
"Will you really do that, Fräulein Reginchen?" he asked hastily, pausing before her. "If you were in earnest—but no, why should you give yourself useless anxiety about a man who can never—to be sure, I—it will be a real cordial on my journey—and I wanted to say something else: I should like to take a keepsake to remember you and this hour."
"A keepsake?"—she involuntarily glanced at her knitting work, at which he too was looking intently. "I'm just at the heel," she said, "and I suppose you'll not wait till it's done."
"No, Fräulein Reginchen," he replied, "don't think me so presuming as to ask for such a gift—your own handiwork—so unceremoniously. But—if I could find any of your father's work—but I've an ugly foot, which is hard to fit with ready made boots—"
"I could take your measure."
"Yes, you might do that; but no, Reginchen, in the first place I would not accept such a service from you—"
"I would do it willingly, besides, I'm accustomed to it."
"No, no! A creature like you, and such an unlucky mortal as I—but if I could find a pair already made—"
He looked around the walls, sighed, passed his hand through his hair, seemingly endeavoring to avoid her glance.
"You have not the smallest foot in the world," said the girl, looking at his coarse boots with the eye of an connoisseur. "If it were only as long in proportion as it's wide. But it's so short beyond the instep, it would be hard—"
"Won't it? Two elephants' feet!" said the printer laughing bitterly. "We men of the people, who don't tread as often as we're trodden upon, didn't need to have such big feet. But it's no matter. Who knows when our turn will come. Well, Fräulein Reginchen, if you can't—"
"Wait," she exclaimed, starting up and opening the show window, "I think I can find something for you; that is, if you can use jack-boots. But as you're going to sea—"
—"At least through fire and water.—Show me the jack-boots, Fraulein Reginchen."
He sat down on a low stool and watched her, as she nimbly leaned forward into the show window, dislodged with considerable difficulty two huge boots paraded there as models, and placed them in the shop. During this operation he again sighed, as if suffering. While, assisted by Reginchen, he tried on the boots, which fitted admirably, that is were much too large, he did not utter a syllable; but when with his feet cased in the huge polished coverings he stood before her as if rooted to the floor, he drew out his blue checked pocket handkerchief, wiped his forehead, and slowly replacing it, said: "Ask your father to send me the bill with the old boots. And now, Fraulein Reginchen, one thing more: take care of my friends up stairs as before—especially Balder. He—perhaps you don't know it—won't live to be very old; at least while he is here, let him know only love and kindness—"
He turned away because his voice failed, and furtively wiped his eyes with his cap.
"Good Heavens!" cried the young girl in terror, "what are you saying? Herr Walter—"
"Hush!" replied Franzelius putting his broad fore-finger on his lip. "You're a kind hearted, sensible girl—you'll keep it to yourself Oh! Fraulein Reginchen, if it were not for that, if it were not for many things—of which you have no suspicion—Heaven knows I—I would make no secret of my feelings, and tell you—but no! Love him, Reginchen, as much as you can. Will it be hard for you to love Balder?"
Again she made no reply. The question seemed to her a dangerous one. He was looking at her with a strange expression of anxiety and love; suddenly he caught both her hands in his huge palm, clasped them so closely that she with difficulty restrained a cry of terror, and burst forth: "If there is such a thing as an angel, you are one. Farewell. Think—forget—you have never had a better friend than I! I only wanted to bid you farewell—Fraulein Reginchen!"
He tore himself away and tramped out of the shop in his gigantic boots as hastily as if he feared to remain longer, lest spite of these firm pillars, he might lose his centre of gravity and fall at the feet of the shoemaker's little daughter.
Reginchen looked after him through the show window. Often as she had laughed at him, she could not do so to-day, she was much more ready to cry. No one had ever spoken to her so before. She had longed perceived that he liked her, and even prided herself a little upon that fact, because she thought he must be unusually learned, as he was always occupied in printing. But that he "revered" her, that he thought her almost an angel—! And what did he mean in speaking so about Herr Walter?
She sat down again in her chair in the corner. "I'll commence to-night to knit a pair of stockings for him to take on his journey," she thought. "If only I can get them done! His feet are so awfully big."
CHAPTER IV.
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About the same hour Lorinser was sitting on the little leather sofa in Christiane's room, with his knees half drawn up on the seat, and his long arms stretched along the back, like a person who is making himself comfortable,