Chapter XI The Mistake
In the public-house of a small town, situated at the foot of a hill, there sat four young men one sunny morning round a table, on which were placed wine bottles, rolls of wheaten bread, and Swiss cheese. They talked loudly and merrily, every few minutes emptying their glasses, which were plentifully supplied with golden wine. Their jests and laughter showed that they had rather swallowed too much of the exciting liquid. Except the person who waited on them, there was no one else in the room. The two principal speakers soon observed that their fourth companion sat leaning his head on his hand, and was lost in thought. One of them immediately bawled out, “Is the pet of his mother dying with home-sickness, that he sits there so miserable and whining?”
The youth who was thus addressed changed his posture, looked up and said, with a forced smile, “I am not troubled with home-sickness; but my purse is, in which there are now only four dollars. When these are finished, you will be good enough to open your treasures.”
This speech made an unpleasant impression on the half-stupified wine-bibbers. Their faces became at once grave, and, in a most sober voice, one of them said, “Why did you not tell us this before? Had we known that the money of which you bragged so much was such a paltry sum, we would have thought twice about it before we became the companions of your expedition, and brought ourselves into disgrace with our guardians and tutors.”
“Who incited me more to act as I have done than yourself, Nicholas?” asked the other in an angry voice. “It was you who advised me to borrow the money in the name of my father, and told us how to obtain false passports for our journey.”
“Do not scold,” drawled out a third; “but rather fight at once. When the money is done, then the comedy is ended! But you, Balduin, you must bear the blame. Crawl back to your parents, give them a few good words, and be our scape-goat; then the affair is finished, which, after all, is only a caprice of genius.”
“Let us drink to our scape-goat Balduin,” they all laughingly cried, raising at the same time their glasses to their lips. Balduin, to escape their mirth and scornful jests, thrust his head out of the window, while the others took good care that not one morsel of the breakfast should be left.
At this moment an aged man and a young girl entered the room in the dress of peasants. After a polite greeting, which was, however, only returned by the person who waited, the two travellers seated themselves on a bench near the door, and laid down their bundles.
“Bring us some bread and cheese,” said the old man to the waiter, who immediately supplied him with what he asked. “There, Malchen, take and eat something; you will be much the better of it after our long journey this morning.” Before the maiden complied with this request, she broke a small piece of the bread into crumbs, and then put her hand into a little bag, from which she drew forth a starling, who, delighted to escape from its prison, hopped about, and picked up the bread from the table. The young peasant, stroking the bird with her hands, said, “To-day you will see your old master. How pleased he will be to see you again!”
“And, it is to be hoped, still better pleased to see us,” said the old man, “when he hears that we have come to live near him. I am not anxious about you, for you have learnt to work and to be useful; besides, town people generally prefer a servant-girl from the country. As to myself, I am sure God will not let me want; and when I have Christlieb again near me, I will fast gladly.”
The young gentleman named Balduin now drew in his head from the window, and sat down at the table beside the others. He was seated with his back to the two strangers, yet in a moment they both recognised him, and almost screamed for joy. Our friend Kummas motioned with his hand to his companion to be quiet; and wishing to give, as he thought, his dear Christlieb a pleasant surprise, he advanced on tiptoe towards the table, giving the others a hint to say nothing, and suddenly placed his hard hands over the eyes of the sullen Balduin, saying in a feigned voice, “Who am I?”
“No nonsense!” cried Balduin, seeking to free his face from its unwelcome covering. But Kummas held his hands firm as a vice, repeating in tones trembling with pleasure, “Who is it?” The supposed Christlieb, in a passion, tore away the hands of the old man from his face, and sprang from his seat. “What do you mean by this impertinence?” asked Balduin enraged, while Kummas took hold of him and said, “It is your foster-father, dear Christlieb; and here is Malchen,”——
“And your starling, too!” continued the young girl, weeping with joy.
The three young idlers at this broke out into a loud scornful laugh.
“Brother dear, we congratulate you on your new relations, not forgetting the starling. Ha! ha! ha!”
Balduin drove the old man from him with violence, and paid no heed to Malchen. “You vagabonds,” he cried, “you will pay dearly for your insolent jest!”
Kummas stood petrified; he raised his arms, and then let them fall down powerless. At length he found strength to say, “Christlieb! are we really so much changed that you do not know us? I am Kummas, this is Malchen, whose grandfather is dead, and we are going to the town in which you live.”
“Now I hope you understand!” again shouted Balduin’s rude companions. “Such a father is not found every day on the street, neither such a smart young peasant girl.”
Balduin trembled with passion. “You must have escaped from Bedlam!” he cried; “away with you! You will get nothing from me!”
The old man could scarcely believe his ears. “No, it is impossible,” he said to himself, “that within the short space of one year an angel could be thus changed into a demon. Christlieb!” he continued, “dissemble no longer; you are breaking my heart with your jokes. I have not deserved this treatment; but I need not speak of what I have done for you, as you have always gratefully acknowledged it.”
Instead of answering, Balduin paid the reckoning, and left the inn with his noisy companions, leaving Kummas and Malchen behind, who both stood as if rooted to the spot.
A long pause ensued. “Is he really gone?” asked Kummas, scarcely able to speak.
“Quite gone!” Malchen was only able to answer by a sorrowful shake of the head.
“He has denied us, Malchen!” said the old man. “He is in prosperity, as you may see by his dress and well-filled purse. He has been ashamed of us before the other scholars. Alas! alas! I was not ashamed, for his sake, to become like an old nurse.” Kummas laid down his head and wept bitterly. “See,” he continued after a time, “how soon our soap bubbles have burst! Now we may return the way we came to our old home in the village. You will be able to get something to do; perhaps to herd the cows or the geese; and I—— will find a grave. The ingratitude of my child will be my winding-sheet! What could I now do with a violin? Never again shall I handle the bow, and I will burn the instrument as I did the violincello in which—— Christlieb was cradled.” He again laid his grey head on the table, which became wet with his burning tears.
Malchen sprang up in haste. “Father! father!” she cried, “look at the starling.” The poor bird lay with its breast bruised flat, close to the table where the young men had been drinking. His supposed master had accidentally put his foot on it when he had jumped up in rage at the old man.
“Father!” said Malchen, weeping, and holding the poor little thing by its legs, “the starling is dead!”
Kummas looked up. “It has been treated like me,” he said with indifference. “The starling is only a senseless bird; but me has my child killed. Oh! that I, too, were dead!”