Chapter V: Before and After the Deluge

IT HAPPENED quite often that nobody had time to play with little Hun, and he himself found nothing on earth to do. At such times, he would wander aimlessly all through the house, bothering everyone at their work. His mother always sent him to his little table and wanted him to keep busy there. The boy would then be very unhappy and troublesome. He often chose the most inconvenient moments for these restless moods, when everybody was especially busy.

The day following the events just related was a Saturday, when the house was being cleaned and the furniture blocked all the hallways. Hun wandered about among the chairs and sofas and seemed in just as unsettled a state as was the house.

After looking for his mother everywhere, he succeeded in finding her on the top floor of the house, sorting the clean laundry, but she sent him downstairs again with the words, "I am very busy now, Hun. Go and look for Paula; she may have time for you." He found Paula at the piano.

"Go away, Hun! I have to practise and can't guess your stupid charades," she said to her little brother, who had caught the fatal fever from Rolf. He was most anxious to say his own charade about the nutcracker and was terribly disappointed not to have the chance. "Here's Miss Hanenwinkel, go to her," said Paula.

"Miss Hanenwinkel, my first one cannot drink, but eat," the little one cried as soon as he saw the governess.

"No, Hun, please spare me," the governess hurriedly interrupted him. "I do not know what will happen if you begin it, too. I have no time. Look, Mr. Jul is just getting down from his horse over there; go to him."

The little one wandered off.

"Jul, nobody wants to guess my riddles, Miss Hanenwinkel least of all," he complained to his big brother. "She said you ought to do it."

"Did she say so? All right, then, say it," Jul encouraged him.

"My first you can't drink, but eat," began Hun, and stopped.

"All right, keep on, Hun!"

"You have to make the rest, Jul; but the whole must be nutcracker," said the little boy.

"I can see that quite clearly; but because Miss Hanenwinkel has sent me a riddle to guess through you, I'll send her one, too. Come, I'll say it and you must learn it by heart. Then you can go and ask Miss Hanenwinkel to solve it for you."

Standing the little one in front of him, Jul said several times quite slowly:

"When like my first Hun's crow, disturbs all men
Into the second does the whole put then
The naughty culprit, saying, 'See you again.'" *

Before very long, the small boy had memorized the lines and eagerly ran off to serve them up to the governess.

The latter sat in the schoolroom, trying to explain a problem in arithmetic to the twins. This proved a hard task today. The two were dreadfully absent-minded. Just then Hun came into the room.

"A charade, Miss Hanenwinkel," he announced at once.

* Hanenwinkel translated into English means Rooster-corner.

"But I won't let you say it now. This is no time for such nonsense," said the governess, firmly. But as Jul was the originator this time, the little boy grew quite audacious. Without swerving, he declared several times:

"It's Jul's charade, Jul made it up."

"Then say it quickly," said the governess, visibly relenting. The boy distinctly recited his riddle.

Miss Hanenwinkel, who came from Bremen, did not like to be left behind and was always quick in replies. Immediately sitting down at the table, she took up pen and paper and wrote:

"My first's the time for nuts, my whole then finds
Much pleasure in them, for at once he grinds
Them up between his teeth; but we can't see,
That there's much of my second in this. For he,
My whole, that is, throws shells upon the floor
And makes us tumble on them at the door."

"Take this to Mr. Jul," she said, giving the little one the paper, "and tell him I refuse to be beaten. As long as he has turned my name so nicely into a charade, I am sending him one, too. But don't come in again, Hun. We must work hard, and another disturbance might be fatal."

Willi and Lili were less afraid of a disturbance, and it was quite visible that the recent interruption had already had the dreaded effect. While the governess had been talking to their brother, the twins had moved their heads closer and closer together, apparently deep in making plans. These had proved so absorbing that they could not even remember the simplest sums, and Miss Hanenwinkel found herself obliged to shut her book with a deep sigh. She remarked in conclusion, that if each number represented some foolish exploit, Willi and Lili would grasp them all.

This opinion of the governess was not without foundation, because the twins seemed especially gifted for such exploits. Apparently a scheme of this kind was in their heads now, and as soon as the lesson was done, they rushed enterprisingly towards the laundry. Here they had a secret consultation opposite all the washtubs in the place.

At table, Jul pulled out a sheet of paper and asked, "Who can guess a fine riddle Miss Hanenwinkel has composed?" After which he read it.

He was hardly finished when Rolf cried out the answer, "Julius and by rights Yule-use."

It was the right solution. Miss Hanenwinkel, however, did not read her riddle, because she did not wish to have her peculiarity discussed and laughed at.

After dinner, Willi and Lili ran to the laundry again, for it was Saturday afternoon and they were free to do what they pleased. Miss Hanenwinkel had meant to watch the children, but seeing them enter the laundry, she supposed they were going to wash some doll's clothing, a favorite occupation of theirs. She was glad they had found something to keep them busy for at least a couple of hours.

But Willi and Lili had an idea which reached far beyond a mere doll wash. While playing with their new Noah's ark they had entered so deeply into the miraculous existence of the people and animals in the ark that Lili conceived the brilliant idea of executing a trip in the ark themselves. She carefully thought out everything necessary for such a journey, and being alert and practical, she knew quite well how to do it.

Among the washtubs, the twins selected one of medium size for the ark, one just big enough to hold them and the animals if everybody kept nice and quiet.

Schnurri and Philomele were to represent the animals in the ark, and the first thing the children did, was catch hold of the two pets so necessary to their idea. Schnurri followed the call with a growl, while Philomele rubbed her soft fur against Lili's legs so caressingly that the little girl picked her up tenderly saying, "You really are much nicer than Schnurri, dear Philomele."

Philomele had gotten her name because she mewed very melodiously, and Schnurri his, because he grunted and growled so much. But there was a cause for this. The two had been commanded to live in harmony together and to do each other no harm. Schnurri punctually obeyed these instructions by always being peaceful and considerate towards Philomele. While they were having dinner from the same dish, he ate very slowly, knowing that the cat with her tiny mouth could not eat as fast, as he. Philomele was always pleasant towards the dog when anyone was watching, but when nobody was around, she frequently lifted her paw and gave him a treacherous blow behind the ear. This would make Schnurri growl, and as this happened very often, he growled nearly all the time. He had gotten his name unjustly, because he was by nature a peace-loving and friendly creature.

For the trip in the ark, some water was necessary. Lili knew that on wash days a long wooden funnel or pipe was laid under the fountain outside and into the tub, which made the latter fill with water. She had planned to let the water flow from the wooden funnel to the floor of the laundry where the washtub always stood. In that way the floor would be gradually covered with water and finally the tub would be lifted up, representing the swimming ark. All this was carefully planned, and only the long funnel which was necessary for that manoeuvre had to be secured.

Willi and Lili could not quite decide whether it was wiser to ask Battist or Trine for help.

Old Battist and young Trine stood in practically the same relationship as Schnurri and Philomele. Battist had served many years in the household, and knowing about everything, had a word to say about all the management of the house and stable, as well as the garden and the fields. The universal respect shown to the old man annoyed Trine, who felt that regard was due to her, too. If she had not served the family very long yet, her aunt had lived in the Birkenfeld household so many years that she had actually become too old to work and was resting from her labors now. Trine had taken her place and was decidedly jealous of old Battist's authority, which she herself did not recognize at all. She behaved very decently to the old man before the family, but teased him as soon as they turned their backs, just as Philomele did with Schnurri.

The children knew this, and often made use of this state of affairs for their own private ends. Willi and Lili felt that Trine would be more willing to lend them aid than the old gardener, who never much approved of extraordinary schemes. But the needed funnel came under his especial sceptre, and therefore Lili decided to ask the old man's assistance, while Willi held on to Schnurri and the cat. Finding Battist on the threshing-floor sorting out seeds, Lili stood herself in front of him with her hands back of her, taking the identical attitude her father always took when talking with his workmen.

"Battist," she began energetically, "where is the funnel which is used in the laundry for filling the washtubs with water?"

Battist looked at Lili from his seeds, as if anxious to weigh her question. Then he asked deliberately, "Did your mamma send you here?"

"No, she didn't send me, I want it myself," explained Lili.

"I see; then I don't know where the funnel is," retorted Battist.

"But Battist," Lili commenced again, "I only want a little water from the spring fountain. Why can't I have it?"

"I know you two small birds," growled Battist. "Once a little bit of fire and then a little bit of water, and finally some dreadful mishap. You can't have it this time, you can't have it."

"Then I don't care," sulked Lili, and went at once to the kitchen where Trine was sweeping the floor.

"Trine," said the little girl pleasantly, "won't you come and give us the funnel for the fountain? Battist is horrid, he won't even give it to us for a second. But you will let us have it, won't you, Trine?"

"Of course," replied Trine. "I don't see why you shouldn't have a little bit of water. But you'll have to wait until the old bear goes away. Then I'll go with you."

After a while Trine saw Battist walking across the yard towards the fields.

"Come, now," she said, taking Lili's hand in hers and running to the laundry.

She pulled out the pipe from its hiding place, laid one end under the spigot and the other into a small tub. Then she explained to Lili how to take the pipe away when the bucket was full enough. She and Willi could do this quite well themselves and when they needed more water they could put it back. Trine had to go back to her work now.

When the maid left, they were ready to start on their excursion. After the pipe was laid on the floor, Lili climbed in, followed by Willi, and Philomele was lifted and Schnurri was pulled inside. Noah and his wife sat in their beautiful ark now, grateful over their delivery and joyful over their trip on the rising floods. The water from the fountain was steadily flowing into the laundry, and all of a sudden the ark was lifted and began to float. Noah and his wife screamed with delight. They had really succeeded in their plans, the ark actually swam about on real waves.

Several high stone steps led down into the laundry, and it therefore held a large quantity of water. The water rose steadily higher and higher, and the children began to feel a little frightened.

"Look, Willi, we won't be able to get out any more," said Lili, "it's getting higher all the time."

Willi looked out thoughtfully over the edge of the tub and said, "If it gets much higher, we'll have to drown."

Of course it kept on getting higher and higher.

Schnurri was beginning to get restless, too, and by jumping about, threatened to upset the washtub. It rocked violently to and fro. The water by that time was so deep that the children could not possibly climb out again, and seized by a sudden panic, they began to shriek with all their might: "We are drowning, we are drowning! Mamma! Mamma! Battist! Trine! We are drowning!"

Finally, instead of words, they just frantically screeched and yelled. Schnurri barked and growled from sympathy, while Philomele revealed her true character, and began to bite and scratch, while meowing loudly. Philomele refused to go into the water, neither would she stay in the tub. Instead, she went on crazily and scratched the children whenever she could. But when the faithful Schnurri saw that no assistance was coming in answer to their cries, he jumped into the water with a big leap. He swam towards the door, gave himself a shake and ran away. But the children yelled worse than ever now, for Schnurri had nearly upset the tub in jumping out.

Dora had long ago run down to her hole in the hedge to see what was the cause of the pitiful cries.

The laundry stood close to the hedge, but she could see nothing but a funnel through which water flowed into the laundry. But she heard their cries about drowning and turning about, she ran upstairs again.

"Aunt Ninette," she cried breathlessly, "two children are drowning over there. Don't you hear them, don't you hear them?"

The aunt had heard the yells, despite her tightly barred windows.

"Oh, gracious, what does it mean?" cried the affrighted aunt. "Of course, I heard the awful noise, but who is drowning, I wonder? Mrs. Kurd! Mrs. Kurd! Mrs. Kurd!" Meanwhile, the soaked dog ran in big leaps towards the coachhouse, where Battist was cutting bean poles. Schnurri rushed up to him, pulled his trousers, barked violently, then tried to pull Battist along again, howling incessantly.

"Something is up," said Battist, and putting one of the poles on his shoulder, he said to himself, "One can never tell what may be useful."

Herewith, he followed Schnurri, who gaily preceded him to the washhouse. By that time, the mother, the governess, Paula, Rolf and Hun, and at last Trine had assembled, as the awful noise had penetrated into every nook and corner of the house and garden. Battist at once held his long pole out over the floods towards the tub.

"Take hold of it tight and don't let it go!" he called to the children, and after drawing the whole ark towards him, he lifted the inmates onto dry land.

Willi and Lili were so scared and white that they had to recover a little before being examined about their exploit. Taking each by the hand, their mother led them to the bench under the apple tree and gave them a chance to revive a little.

Jul, leading the small Hun by the hand, followed and said, "Oh, you terrible twins, some day you will both come to a terrible end."

With trousers turned up, old Battist had stepped into the deluge, and had opened all the vents for draining to let the floods disperse. To Trine, who stood beside him, he said pityingly, "It only happened because you have no more sense than the seven-year-olds!"

He knew quite well who had fetched the funnel. Trine, realizing that she had been duped, could give no answer, but like Philomele, got ready to scratch her adversary.

When everybody sat safe and sound again under the apple tree, Philomele came up to Lili, tenderly meowing and rubbing against the girl's legs. But the child pushed her away, and instead she and Willi tenderly stroked the wet Schnurri, who lay at their feet on the ground. The twins secretly resolved to give Schnurri their whole supper that night, for in their great extremity, they had found out the true character of their pets.

After thoughtfully gazing at the rescued twins for a while, the small Hun joined Jul, who was wandering to and fro on the gravel path.

"Jul," said the little one solemnly, "tell me in what way the terrible twins could come to a fearful end?"

"They might do it in different ways, Hun," replied Jul, standing still. "You see they have already tried fire and water. In some excited mood, they may next pull down the house over our heads. Then we'll all be lying underneath, and everything will be over."

"Can't we quickly jump away?" asked little Hun, concerned.

"We can, if they don't do it in the middle of the night."

"Please wake me up then," Hun implored his brother.

Mrs. Kurd had come in answer to Aunt Ninette's repeated cries at the identical moment when Battist was pulling the ark to safety and the cries had stopped.

"Did you hear it, Mrs. Kurd? Wasn't it terrible? But everything is quiet now. Do you suppose they were saved?"

"Of course," said Mrs. Kurd calmly. "The little ones were just screaming a little, and there can't have been any real danger."

"I never heard such shrieks, and I am still trembling in all my limbs. Oh, I wonder how your uncle stood it, Dora. This is the end, I fear, Mrs. Kurd, and we have had enough. Nothing can keep us from moving now."

With this Aunt Ninette stepped into her husband's room to see how he had taken the last disturbance. Mr. Titus did not even hear his wife's entrance, for he had stuffed cotton into his ears when the noise penetrated even through the closed windows. Afterwards, he calmly kept on writing.

"For goodness' sake, Titus! That is dreadfully unhealthy and heats your head," wailed his wife, upon noticing her husband's ears. Quickly taking out the cotton, she told him what she had resolved to do. Tomorrow, after the morning service, she was going to pay a call on the village rector and ask his advice about another lodging. After what had happened they could not stay. It was too much to put up with.

Mr. Titus agreed to everything she said, and Aunt Ninette went to her room to enlarge further upon the scheme.

Dora stood in the corridor listening to her.

"Are we really going away, Aunt Ninette?" she asked timidly, as soon as her uncle's door was shut.

"Surely!" the woman answered. "We expect to leave the house on Monday."

Dora slipped into her little room and sat down on her bed. She was completely cast down by the thought of leaving without having even once met the children in the lovely garden. She thought how dreary it would be to go back to Karlsruhe, where she would have to sew shirts again and could no longer watch the merry life of the jolly children.

From sheer grief, Dora's eyes were so cast down that she could not see her five bright stars gleaming down to her. They seemed to be calling, "Dora, Dora! Have you forgotten your father's words completely?"