Joseph in the Snow, and The Clockmaker. In Three Volumes. Vol. II.

Under cover of generalities, and yet easily applicable to the young couple, the Pastor gave utterance to the anxious wish of their mutual friends, that two persons so unlike in disposition, and in worldly occupations, might live henceforth in peaceful and happy union together.

Pilgrim, who was sitting with the singers in the gallery, nodded to the leader of the choir, who nodded back significantly. Faller did not once look up; he pressed his hand to his eyes, and thought, "It was thus I spoke myself to Annele; who knows what she would say to our Pastor, if she dared speak! But I pray thee, good Lord! who once performed so many miracles on this earth, do this one more, – implant good thoughts in her heart, and place good words on her lips, for my excellent Lenz, the most admirable – "

No voice sounded louder than that of Faller when he joined in the hymn, after the ceremony was over. The leader of the choir made him a sign to moderate his deep bass voice, for the tenor was very weak, and Lenz's voice was wanting; but Faller utterly refused to suppress his tones, which fairly overpowered both the organ and his fellow-singers, in the hymn, "Oh Lord, bless this bond!"

When the wedding was over, the women who were so fortunate as to see and hear the ceremony, had plenty to talk about when they left the church. Never before had the bridegroom been heard sobbing audibly; no man had ever done such a thing till now. To be sure, the Pastor had spoken in a most touching way, especially when he had alluded to Lenz's mother, and implored her blessing, which had caused Lenz to sob so violently that they really thought he must have fallen down, and all present had cried along with him; indeed, those who were talking of it had cried too; they had come to attend the marriage, and had a right to have a share of all that was going, whether it was crying or rejoicing. The men said to the strangers present – "No other village can have a more admirable Pastor than ours! His words come out so smoothly and glibly, and not stiff or precise; just as if he wished to discuss the matter quietly with us all. Oh, yes! our Pastor! few like him!"

Neither men nor women made any allusion, however, to the matter of the exhortation.

When Lenz left the church, escorted on one side by Petrowitsch, and on the other by the Landlord, Faller's mother came up to him, and said, "I have done what I intended – your mother's clothes have been in the church, and she could not have prayed from her heart for you more earnestly than I did."

Lenz could not answer, for the Landlord reproved the old woman for being the first to speak to the bridegroom, – although he condemned the foolish superstition, that saw an evil omen in being addressed by an old woman first; but, however, he called forward a handsome young lad to give Lenz his hand first.

From this moment, however, all was gaiety and merriment. It was not easy to believe that any one present had shed a single tear.

Lenz now shook hands with his sisters-in-law, and then with their husbands, in the back parlour. The Doctor, too, and his daughters came, – and very kind it was in them to come, – one after another came in and went out, wishing the young couple joy; while Annele sat in a chair, with a white handkerchief pressed to her eyes; and Lenz said, "I could not help crying so much, but you know for all that how happy I am; and we will remember to keep our honour one and the same, and, with the help of God, we shall preserve it entire. And when I see what a family you connect me with, I can never forget it. And, please God! these shall be the last tears we ever shed together. Take off your gloves, dear Annele, I have none."

Annele shook her head, but said nothing.

Dinner! dinner! dinner! was called out three times, and certainly people seemed to eat threefold. There was only one person who complained, "I can't eat, I cant swallow a single mouthful; it is a sad pity when there are so many good things before me; but I can't!" and this was Franzl.

Even before every one had dined, dancing had begun in the room above, and the bride and bridegroom went backwards and forwards from the dancing room to the dinner table.

"It is too bad in the Techniker to come to my wedding," said Annele to Lenz, on the stairs. "No one invited him; pray don't speak to him."

"Oh, never mind him! I wish to see no one dissatisfied to-day," said Lenz, kindly. "I am only vexed that Faller is not here. I sent a messenger to him, but I see he is not come."

Pilgrim danced the first dance with Annele, who said to him, "You are a first-rate dancer."

"But not a first-rate painter, you think?"

"I never said so."

"At all events, you won't be painted by me; and yet I had rather a fancy to-day to take your portrait. Besides, I don't think you would be easy to take: you are pretty so long as you are talking, but when you are silent there is something in your face I don't like. I can't say what it is."

"If you could only paint as well as you can chatter!"

"Well! well! you shall never be painted by me!

"I have no wish to go down to posterity painted by you," said Annele, who soon recovered her good humour.

The bridal pair were summoned to the lower room, where the most respectable of the connexions had assembled round Petrowitsch. They wished him to declare distinctly what sum he intended to bequeath to Lenz. Don Bastian, Pilgrim's cunning landlord, was the principal speaker. He had a good opportunity of larding his shabby wedding gift with another man's bacon, and he drove Petrowitsch into such a corner, that he could scarcely slip through his fingers. The blacksmith, who valued himself on being Lenz's only neighbour, – he lived about a mile from him, but his house was the only one to be seen from the Morgenhalde, – had been a schoolfellow of Petrowitsch, and knew how to put him into good humour, by recalling old times.

The Landlady thought that the presence of the young couple might do good, so she had sent for them. When they joined the circle, Petrowitsch, who was by this time at his wit's end, said – "Here is Lenz; he knows what my intentions are. In our family we don't send the public crier about to announce our affairs. You know, Lenz, how we stand, don't you?"

"Certainly, uncle," said Lenz.

"Now, I am not going to say one word more on the subject!" cried Petrowitsch, impatiently starting up. He was in mortal fear lest any one, his old schoolfellow the blacksmith especially, should discover that this was his sixty-fifth birthday, in which case he would no doubt have been congratulated on all sides, and been obliged to pay for their good wishes by making some settlement on his nephew. He pushed his way through the circle out of the room. Büble, who followed closely at his heels, howled loudly, having received a hearty kick from some invisible foot.

Lenz looked after his retreating uncle, rather disconcerted, for he felt he had not perhaps acted very prudently in helping him out of his dilemma. Petrowitsch might possibly have been induced to say something decided, and now all hope of such a thing was at an end.

But Lenz soon dismissed all such thoughts from his mind, and was as gay as possible the whole evening. Those relations who lived at a distance had already gone away. It was now time for Lenz and Annele to go home, as it is customary for a bridal pair to arrive in their own house before midnight; and Lenz said, "Annele, you were quite right; how vexed I am now that there is no carriage road to our home. Be sure you wrap yourself well up."

"You will see many a time yet that I am right in most things," said Annele.

Pilgrim had arranged the procession very artistically. The musicians went in front, and two torchbearers behind the young couple; and a number of children brought up the rear, carrying the handsomest of the wedding presents, – china, glass, trays and goblets, – and burning pine torches. When they began to ascend the hill the procession became less orderly, for they were obliged to go one by one. Lenz said to Annele, "Go on in front; I like you to take precedence in everything."

At last they reached Lenz's house at the top of the hill. The bridal gifts were delivered up, the musicians played a merry dance, and three loud shouts were given in honour of the happy pair. Then the music was heard dying away down the hill into the valley.

"We are in heaven, and know that men on earth below are rejoicing over us," said Lenz.

"I had no idea that you could talk in this way," said Annele. "How hushed and quiet it seems here all at once!"

"Wait a minute; I can welcome you with melody, and, Heaven be praised I it is for you and me alone." He wound up a large musical clock, and it played Beethoven's "Calm of the ocean!" It continued to play for long and long, and all was still in the house.

CHAPTER XXII.

A MORNING GIFT

"I wish we had another wedding-feast to-day, don't you, darling Annele."

"No; why do you wish that?"

"Because my agitation yesterday destroyed great part of my pleasure in our wedding gaieties; but today I feel in such a happy mood; I feel as if I were invited to a wedding."

"You are a strange creature!" said Annele, with a smile.

"I must not forget, however," said Lenz, starting up, "that I have something to give you. Wait a moment."

He went to the next room, and remained there some time.

"What is he going to give me? No doubt it occurred to him that it is customary to present one's bride with a nice gold chain, or earrings. But then he ought to have done that yesterday: why today?" Annele had plenty of time to think it over. At last Lenz came back, and said – "At last I have found it; I had mislaid it. Here is my beloved mother's garnet necklace; they are good old fashioned stones, and they will look so well round your pretty throat. Come! try it on."

"No, Lenz; garnets are quite old fashioned; I can't wear them; besides, they scratch my throat. As I can't wear them, I will exchange them at some jeweller's."

"No, you must not do that."

"Just as you choose. But what can be your objection? What have you there besides?"

"What I would give to no living creature but you. It belonged to my poor mother. It is of no value, but still it has a charm attached to it."

"Well, show me this wonder."

"Here it is; look at it."

"What is it?"

"This is Edelweiss, a little plant that grows under the snow. Read what my mother wrote on the paper in which it is folded."

"I can't read it, the writing is so bad."

Lenz winced at this remark, though Annele only followed the custom of the country in calling an indistinct hand bad writing. She continued: "Read it to me yourself."

Lenz read aloud: – "This is a plant of Edelweiss, which grew on one of the highest mountains in Switzerland, under the snow. My husband found it himself, and thought of me when he saw it, so he brought it home with him from his wanderings, and gave it to me on our wedding day. I wish it to be placed in my hand when I am laid in the earth. If, however, this is overlooked or forgotten, my son is to give it to his wife the day after their marriage; and, so long as she preserves it carefully, it will bring a blessing with it, though it has no magic properties. This plant is named Edelweiss. – MARIE LENZIN."

When Lenz had finished reading the paper he said: – "Does it not go to your heart to hear the dead thus speak? Don't be agitated, but be gay and happy. She liked every one to be gay and happy, and was always cheerful herself, though she had known so much sorrow."

Annele smiled, and laid the plant, wrapped in paper, beside the row of garnets.

The young people talked to each other so long, that at last a message came from the "Golden Lion," that they were to make haste, as a great many guests had arrived.

Franzl made a very awkward lady's maid. Lenz was obliged to go himself first to the "Lion," to send one of the maids there to Annele. He said, also, that he would take the opportunity to go to Faller's, and press him to come to the "Lion" to-day. He must positively come, and Annele must be kind to him, and forget if he had said anything disagreeable.

Annele said: "Yes, yes; only go along, and send me Margaret as quick as you can; or Ernestine, which would be still better."

At last Annele appeared in her parents' house. The mother rushed up to her, and hugged her, as if she had not seen her for a whole year, and Annele was as gentle and respectful, as if she had never said one cross word to her mother in all her life.

In the back parlour, however, when she and her mother were alone, Annele said that Lenz had given her, a bridal present, an old string of garnets, and a withered plant; and she really could not bear to show herself among all her friends without a gold chain. "He is a skinflint; a poor stingy bit of a clockmaker!" said Annele, indignantly.

The mother showed her good sense – and if that had been the only white lie she ever uttered she would have been snow white when she got to heaven – by saying: "Annele, he is certainly not covetous; he never asked a question about your marriage portion, never gave a hint on the subject; and he is far from stupid, believe me. He is, in fact, rather too shrewd. Last night a travelling jeweller from Pforzheim came here with a large, well filled box. I saw at once that Lenz had desired him to come. He will choose for you what takes his fancy most." The mother knew that Annele did not believe this invention of hers, and Annele knew that her mother did not consider her such a fool as to credit such a fable. They both affected, however, to believe that they were mutually truthful, and the result was very happy.

Lenz was absent for some little time. He was standing beside Ernestine on the dark steps of the cellar. Presently he returned, and, exactly as her mother had predicted, he brought Annele a gold chain from the pedlar, who was in the house. To allow her to choose for herself – to say, "My darling, what do you like best?" – never occurred to him, in spite of many hints; so he did not receive many thanks for his dilatory present.

Annele, however, was soon as lively and gay as was expected. A landlord's daughter must always be merry and good-humoured, and anything that occurs in the back parlour of the family, does not extend to the public room.

If there had been numbers of carriages yesterday, there was a vast number more to-day, for all the innkeepers far and near arrived, with ringing bells round the necks of their handsome well fed horses. On such an occasion, it is but proper that people should show who they are, and what they have. The various landlords, and their wives and daughters, went about as proud of their possessions, as if they had brought their houses on their backs. Every glance seemed to say, "At home I have everything just the same, and, though I may not be as rich as the Landlord of the 'Golden Lion,' still I have every reason to be satisfied."

There were fine greetings, and friendly speeches, and thanks innumerable for handsome presents! – "Oh! that is really too much! No! this is far too handsome! No one but the Landlady of the 'Bear' would ever have thought of such a thing!" And then – "No one has so much taste as the Landlady of the 'Eagle.' – And the Landlady of the 'Angel' – I do hope we may one day act as handsomely, though we can scarcely hope to equal this!" It was truly marvellous, to hear the many hundred clever little speeches Annele made. Lenz was sometimes standing beside her, but he could not bring out a single word. Those who did not know him, thought him shy and simple; but he had a great aversion to this giving and accepting of presents, and all the fine speeches it entailed.

It was now the turn of the poor clockmakers, tributaries of the Landlord, whom he kept well under his thumb, and whose work he bought, to send off to distant countries. Annele took no notice of them, but they addressed Lenz respectfully, and expressed their great satisfaction that a clockmaker had now become the son-in-law of the Landlord of the "Lion." Many hoped, on this account, to get better terms from the Landlord, and others asked Lenz direct if he intended to give up his business, and to become a partner in the Inn. They smiled when Lenz declared he meant to remain just what he always had been. When these poor people, who even by their daily labour of fourteen hours, could only manage to live at all by the most extraordinary frugality and self-denial, and who looked thin and ill, – when even these worthy people, thought it indispensable to thrust their half-gulden pieces, and even smaller coin into Lenz's hand, as their bridal gifts, he felt as if he were handling burning coals. He would gladly have given back the money to the poor people, but he dared not offend them. He mentioned this feeling to Annele, when he could succeed in speaking to her for a moment.

She looked at him in surprise, and said, shaking her head: "My father is right, – you are no man of business. You can work and gain your own living, but you don't understand letting others work for your advantage. You are too fond of asking, 'How does so and so get on?' and that is no use. We must all drive straight on in this world, and never stop to inquire who it is that we pass on the road barefooted. But this is not the moment to lecture you. Oh! here comes the dear Landlady of the 'Lamb!' Better late than never! Though last, not least! I have been thinking of you all day, and only a few moments since I said to my mother: What can have become of that excellent Landlady of the 'Lamb,' from Edelshof? Half my pleasure would have been destroyed if you had not come to my wedding-feast! I suppose this is your daughter-in-law? Where is her husband?"

"He is still below with the horses. We scarcely know how to find stable room today."

"Yes; I am thankful to say we have many kind friends. On such a day as this, we find out how full the world is of well wishers and friends. Lenz, conduct the Landlady of the 'Lamb' to the upper table – I have kept one of the best seats for her there." And then Annele went on to welcome others.

It was only a passing hint, but still Lenz did not at all like Annele reproaching him already with thinking too much about others; and yet he was obliged inwardly to confess that it was true; and that for this very reason he was less energetic than his neighbours, and considered less shrewd than he really was. A single word or animadversion would dwell in his thoughts for days – he could not help brooding over it. At this very moment he thought – "Most men are far wiser than I am: they live for themselves, they clutch what they can get, and never ask how others fare. I must learn to do this also, and then we shall get on well together."

Lenz stood for a while absorbed in these thoughts like a stranger, as if quite unconnected with all the house and rejoicings. Soon, however, he was moving again among the throng, as the centre point of all, according to the duty of the bridegroom.

The assemblage was very crowded, and yet it was pleasant to see so many persons collected together, to rejoice in the good fortune of one happy couple. They were all so merry, that toward evening, when the guests wished to drive home, the Landlord had prepared a practical joke, having ordered Gregor to unfasten, and to hide the poles and shafts of all the sledges; so the worthy guests could not get away, and were forced to remain till long after midnight; but they consoled themselves with one accord, by the fact that the moon rose at midnight. The poor clockmakers were not detained, but some were anxious to get home, or they would lose another day's work; others, however, wished to receive the value of their wedding presents, and sat eating and drinking, as if they intended to satisfy their appetite for a year to come. Indeed, from early morning till far on in the night, fresh provisions were placed on the table – meat, and sausages, and sauerkraut without end.

Faller went about among the guests looking very stiff and awkward, but was at last relieved by Ernestine coming to assist him in serving the company. "I only do this for Lenz's sake," said he to himself, and he would have liked to say this to every person to whom he brought anything to eat. He scarcely ate or drank himself. When he was close to Lenz once, he said to him – "I have not brought you any wedding gift; I could not bear to give you little, and much I have not to give; but I would gladly give you my life if you required it."

Lenz enjoined on his worthy friend to take care of himself, and said he had now done enough for others. Just in good time he remembered that he had intended to invite old Pröbler. Faller offered to go and fetch him. Old Pröbler came, but he would not be persuaded to go into the public room, as he had no Sunday suit; so Lenz gave him a dish heaped up with meat, enough to last three days at least, and a good bottle of wine into the bargain. The old man was so surprised, that he almost forgot to offer his usual pinch of snuff; and all he said was, "I will bring back the bottle." Lenz said he might keep it, which pleased old Pröbler immensely, and he quickly took himself off.

When Lenz and Annele were on their way home, morning was almost breaking; and though the moon was up, it was again covered with heavy clouds. On this occasion they were without either escort or torches. Annele complained that it was frightfully dark, and that she was so weary she could scarcely stand. "I ought to have stayed at home to-night," said she.

"Home? – how do you mean? Your home is up on the hill there."

Annele was silent, and the two walked on together quietly for a time.

"Did you count the money we got today?" said Annele at last.

"No – I can do that at home. I know there must be a good deal, for it is such a weight. It was lucky that your father lent me one of his empty purses."

"What do you mean by empty purses? He has plenty full enough," said Annele quickly.

"I neither inquired about that, nor even once thought about it."

She now pressed forward up the hill, so that Lenz might get home to count the money. When they arrived he did so, but too slowly according to her ideas, and she soon showed him that a landlord's daughter knew better how to set about it. While she was counting, Lenz said: – "I take a different view of the case. It is just as well that we should have accepted presents from these poor people: it does them credit in the eyes of others, and enables them, one and all, to accept assistance from us in any difficulty without hesitation." Annele looked up at him in the midst of her reckoning.

Lenz had always his own peculiar reasons for everything. He never agreed to anything simply because it appeared to be so to others, but delayed his assent till he was convinced himself of the fact, and then he was thoroughly converted. Annele said nothing, but kept repeating the number she had arrived at, for fear of forgetting it. There were exactly one hundred and twenty gulden collected, deducting four bad smaller coins. Annele railed violently at those unprincipled men, who could deceive by giving base money. Lenz tried to pacify her by saying – "Don't say that – perhaps they were poor men who had nothing else to give," Annele's eyes flashed, and she replied testily: – "It appears that you know everything, and that I know nothing."

"I did not in the least mean that. Don't be so hasty."

"I never was ill-tempered in my life, and you are the first person that ever said so. Ask any one; and indeed you had pretty good proofs this very day what people think of me."

"Yes, yes! it is surely no use our quarrelling on such a subject."

"I am not quarrelling; and I am sure I don't care what the sum is – if it were only three farthings, it is all the same to me; but I don't choose to be snubbed every word I say."

"Now do be less hasty, Franzl will really think we are quarrelling."

"She may think just what she pleases; and it is just as well to tell you at once, that Franzl can't possibly stay in this house."

"You don't mean, I suppose, that she is to go tonight?"

"Not tonight, but either tomorrow or very soon."

"We will talk about it tomorrow; I am tired, and you said you were tired also."

"Yes; but when people are unjust to me, and attack me, I no longer feel tired. I have no idea of giving in."

"I neither attacked you nor wished to attack you. Remember what our Pastor said: – our honour is the same."