Chapter XX: Act V (2)

"No doubt," he began, "you have heard of Court Councilor X?" Here he mentioned the name of a statesman who, in the middle of the last century, had under the modest title of a Chief of Department exerted an enormous influence, almost equal to that of a minister. I admitted that I knew of him. "He was my father," he continued.--His father! The father of the old musician, of the beggar. This influential, powerful man--his father! The old man did not seem to notice my astonishment, but with evident pleasure continued the thread of his narrative. "I was the second of three brothers. Both the others rose to high positions in the government service, but they are now dead. Only I am still alive," he said, pulling at his threadbare trousers and picking off some little feathers with downcast eyes. "My father was ambitious and a man of violent temper. My brothers satisfied him. I was considered a slow coach, and I _was_ slow. If I remember rightly," he continued, turning aside as though looking far away, with his head resting upon his left hand, "I might have been capable of learning various things, if only I had been given time and a systematic training. My brothers leaped from one subject to another with the agility of gazelles, but I could make absolutely no headway, and whenever only a single word escaped me, I was obliged to begin again from the very beginning. Thus I was constantly driven. New material was to occupy the place which had not yet been vacated by the old, and I began to grow obstinate. Thus they even drove me into hating music, which is now the delight and at the same time the support of my life. When I used to improvise on my violin at twilight in order to enjoy myself in my own way, they would take the instrument away from me, asserting that this ruined my fingering. They would also complain of the torture inflicted upon their ears and made me wait for the lesson, when the torture began for me. In all my life I have never hated anything or any one so much as I hated the violin at that time.

"My father, who was extremely dissatisfied, scolded me frequently and threatened to make a mechanic of me. I didn't dare say how happy that would have made me. I should have liked nothing better than to become a turner or a compositor. But my father was much too proud ever to have permitted such a thing. Finally a public examination at school, which they had persuaded him to attend in order to appease him, brought matters to a climax. A dishonest teacher arranged in advance what he was going to ask me, and so everything went swimmingly. But toward the end I had to recite some verses of Horace from memory and I missed a word. My teacher, who had been nodding his head in approval and smiling at my father, came to my assistance when I broke down, and whispered the word to me, but I was so engrossed trying to locate the word in my memory and to establish its connection with the context, that I failed to hear him. He repeated it several times--all in vain. Finally my father lost his patience, _'cachinnum'_ (laughter)--that was the word--he roared at me in a voice of thunder. That was the end. Although I now knew the missing word, I had forgotten all the rest. All attempts to bring me back on the right track were in vain. I was obliged to rise in disgrace and when I went over as usual to kiss my father's hand, he pushed me back, rose, bowed hastily to the audience, and went away. 'That shabby beggar,' he called me; I wasn't one at the time, but I am now. Parents prophesy when they speak. At the same time my father was a good man, only hot tempered and ambitious.

"From that day on he never spoke to me again. His orders were conveyed to me by the servants. On the very next day I was informed that my studies were at an end. I was quite dismayed, for I realized what a blow it must have been to my father. All day long I did nothing but weep, and between my crying spells I recited the Latin verses, in which I was now letter-perfect, together with the preceding and following ones. I promised to make up in diligence what I lacked in talent, if I were only permitted to continue in school, but my father never revoked a decision.

"For some time I remained at home without an occupation. At last I was placed in an accountant's office on probation; but arithmetic had never been my forte. An offer to enter the military service I refused with abhorrence. Even now I cannot see a uniform without an inward shudder. That one should protect those near and dear, even at the risk's of one's life, is quite proper, and I can understand it; but bloodshed and mutilation as a vocation, as an occupation--never!" And with that he felt his arms with his hands, as if experiencing pain from wounds inflicted upon himself and others.

"Next I was employed in the chancery office as a copyist. There I was in my element. I had always practised penmanship with enthusiasm; and even now I know of no more agreeable pastime than joining stroke to stroke with good ink on good paper to form words or merely letters. But musical notes are beautiful above everything, only at that time I didn't think of music.

"I was industrious, but too conscientious. An incorrect punctuation mark, an illegible or missing word in a first draft, even if it could be supplied from the context, would cause me many an unhappy hour. While trying to make up my mind whether to follow the original closely or to supply missing material, the time slipped by, and I gained a reputation for being negligent, although I worked harder than any one else. In this manner I spent several years, without receiving any salary. When my turn for promotion came, my father voted for another candidate at the meeting of the board, and the other members voted with him out of deference.

"About this time--well, well," he interrupted himself, "this is turning out to be a story after all. I shall continue the story. About this time two events occurred, the saddest and the happiest of my life, namely my leaving home and my return to the gentle art of music, to my violin, which has remained faithful to me to this day.

"In my father's house, where I was ignored by the other members of the family, I occupied a rear room looking out upon our neighbor's yard. At first I took my meals with the family, though no one spoke a word to me. But when my brothers received appointments in other cities and my father was invited out to dinner almost daily--my mother had been dead for many years--it was found inconvenient to keep house for me. The servants were given money for their meals. So was I; only I didn't receive mine in cash: it was paid monthly to the restaurant. Consequently I spent little time in my room, with the exception of the evening hours; for my father insisted that I should be at home within half an hour after the closing of the office, at the latest. Then I sat there in the darkness on account of my eyes, which were weak even at that time. I used to think of one thing and another, and was neither happy nor unhappy.

"When I sat thus I used to hear some one in the neighbor's yard singing a song--really several songs, one of which, however, pleased me particularly. It was so simple, so touching, and the musical expression was so perfect, that it was not necessary to hear the words. Personally I believe that words spoil the music anyway." Now he opened his lips and uttered a few hoarse, rough tones. "I have no voice," he said, and took up his violin. He played, and this time with proper expression, the melody of a pleasing, but by no means remarkable song, his fingers trembling on the strings and some tears finally rolling down his cheeks.

"That was the song," he said, laying down his violin. "I heard it with ever-growing pleasure. However vivid it was in my memory, I never succeeded in getting even two notes right with my voice, and I became almost impatient from listening. Then my eyes fell upon my violin which, like an old armor, had been hanging unused on the wall since my boyhood. I took it down and found it in tune, the servant probably having used it during my absence. As I drew the bow over the strings it seemed to me, sir, as though God's finger had touched me. The tone penetrated into my heart, and from my heart it found its way out again. The air about me was pregnant with intoxicating madness. The song in the courtyard below and the tones produced by my fingers had become sharers of my solitude. I fell upon my knees and prayed aloud, and could not understand that I had ever held this exquisite, divine instrument in small esteem, that I had even hated it in my childhood, and I kissed the violin and pressed it to my heart and played on and on.

"The song in the yard--it was a woman who was singing--continued in the meantime uninterruptedly. But it was not so easy to play it after her, for I didn't have a copy of the notes. I also noticed that I had pretty nearly forgotten whatever I had once acquired of the art of playing the violin; consequently I couldn't play anything in particular, but could play only in a general way. With the exception of that song the musical compositions themselves have always been a matter of indifference to me, an attitude in which I have persisted to this day. The musicians play Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and Sebastian Bach, but not one plays God Himself. No one can play the eternal comfort and blessing of tone and sound, its magic correlation with the eager, straining ear; so that"--he continued in a lower voice and blushing with confusion--"so that the third tone forms a harmonic interval with the first, as does the fifth, and the leading tone rises like a fulfilled hope, while the dissonance is bowed down like conscious wickedness or arrogant pride.

"And then there are the mysteries of suspension and inversion, by means of which even the second is received into favor in the bosom of harmony. A musician once explained all these things to me, but that was later. And then there are still other marvels which I do not understand, as the fugue, counterpoint, the canon for two and three voices, and so on--an entire heavenly structure, one part joined to the other without mortar and all held together by God's own hand. With a few exceptions, nobody wants to know anything about these things. They would rather disturb this breathing of souls by the addition of words to be spoken to the music, just as the children of God united with the daughters of the Earth. And by means of this combination of word and music they imagine they can affect and impress a calloused mind. Sir," he concluded at last, half exhausted, "speech is as necessary to man as food, but we should also preserve undefiled the nectar meted out by God."

I could scarcely believe it was the same man, so animated had he become. He paused for a moment. "Where did I stop in my story?" he asked finally. "Oh yes, at the song and my attempt to imitate it. But I didn't succeed. I stepped to the open window in order to hear better. The singer was just crossing the court. She had her back turned to me, yet she seemed familiar to me. She was carrying a basket with what looked like pieces of cake dough. She entered a little gate in the corner of the court, where there probably was an oven, for while she continued her song, I heard her rattling some wooden utensils, her voice sounding sometimes muffled, sometimes clear, like the voice of one who bends down and sings into a hollow space and then rises again and stands in an upright position. After a while she came back, and only now I discovered why she had seemed familiar to me before. I had actually known her for some time, for I had seen her in the chancery office.

"My acquaintance with her was made like this: The office hours began early and extended beyond noon. Several of the younger employees, who either actually had an appetite or else wanted to kill a half hour, were in the habit of taking a light lunch about eleven o'clock. The tradespeople, who know how to turn everything to their advantage, saved the gourmands a walk and brought their wares into the office building, where they took up their position on the stairs and in the corridors. A baker sold rolls, a costermonger vended cherries. Certain cakes, however, which were baked by the daughter of a grocer in the vicinity and sold while still hot, were especially popular.

"Her customers stepped out into the corridor to her; and only rarely, when bidden, did she venture into the office itself, which she was asked to leave the moment the rather peevish director caught sight of her--a command that she obeyed only with reluctance and mumbling angry words.

"Among my colleagues the girl did not pass for a beauty. They considered her too small, and were not able to determine the color of her hair. Some there were who denied that she had cat's eyes, but all agreed that she was pock-marked. Of her buxom figure all spoke with enthusiasm, but they considered her rough, and one of them had a long story to tell about a box on the ear, the effects of which he claimed to have felt for a week afterwards.

"I was not one of her customers. In the first place I had no money; in the second, I have always been obliged to look upon eating and drinking as a necessity, sometimes too much so, so that it has never entered my head to take pleasure and delight in it. And so we took no notice of each other. Only once, in order to tease me, my colleagues made her believe that I wanted some of her cakes. She stepped up to my desk and held her basket out to me. 'I don't want anything, my dear young woman,' I said. 'Well, why do you send for me then?' she cried angrily. I excused myself, and as I saw at once that a practical joke had been played, I explained the situation as best I could. 'Well then, at least give me a sheet of paper to put my cakes on,' she said. I tried to make her understand that it was chancery paper and didn't belong to me, but that I had some paper at home which was mine and that I would bring her some of it. 'I have enough myself at home,' she said mockingly, and broke into a little laugh as she went away.

"That had happened only a few days before and I was thinking of turning the acquaintance to immediate account for the fulfilment of my wish. The next morning, therefore, I buttoned a whole ream of paper--of which there was never a scarcity in our home--under my coat, and went to the office. In order not to betray myself, I kept my armor with great personal inconvenience upon my body until, toward noon, I knew from the going and coming of my colleagues and from the sound of the munching jaws that the cake-vender had arrived. I waited until I had reason to believe that the rush of business was over, then I went out, pulled out my paper, mustered up sufficient courage, and stepped up to the girl. With her basket before her on the ground and her right foot resting on a low stool, on which she usually sat, she stood there humming a soft melody, beating time with her right foot. As I approached she measured me from head to foot, which only added to my confusion. 'My dear young woman,' I finally began, 'the other day you asked me for paper and I had none that belonged to me. Now I have brought some from home, and'--with that I held out the paper. 'I told you the other day,' she replied, 'that I have plenty of paper at home. However, I can make use of everything.' Saying this, she accepted my present with a slight nod and put it into her basket. 'Perhaps you'll take some cake?' she asked, sorting her wares, 'although the best have been sold.' I declined, but told her that I had another wish. 'And what may that be?' she asked, putting her arm through the handle of her basket, drawing herself up to her full height, and flashing her eyes angrily at me. I lost no time telling her that I was a lover of music, although only a recent convert, and that I had heard her singing such beautiful songs, especially one. 'You--heard me--singing?' she flared up. 'Where?' I then told her that I lived near her, and that I had been listening to her while she was at work in the courtyard; that one of her songs had pleased me particularly, and that I had tried to play it after her on my violin. 'Can you be the man,' she exclaimed, 'who scrapes so on the fiddle?' As I mentioned before, I was only a beginner at that time and not until later, by dint of much hard work, did I acquire the necessary dexterity;" the old man interrupted himself, while with the fingers of his left hand he made movements in the air, as though he were playing the violin. "I blushed violently," he continued the narrative, "and I could see by the expression of her face that she repented her harsh words. 'My dear young woman,' I said, 'the scraping arises from the fact that I do not possess the music of the song, and for this reason I should like to ask you most respectfully for a copy of it.' 'For a copy?' she exclaimed. 'The song is printed and is sold at every street-corner.' 'The song?' I replied. 'You probably mean only the words!' 'Why, yes; the words, the song.' 'But the melody to which it is sung--' 'Are such things written down?' she asked. 'Surely,' was my reply, 'that is the most important part.' 'And how did you learn it, my dear young woman?' 'I heard some one singing it, and then I sang it after her.' I was astonished at this natural gift. And I may add in passing that uneducated people often possess the greatest natural talent. But, after all, this is not the proper thing, not real art. I was again plunged into despair. 'But which song do you want?' she asked. 'I know so many.' 'All without the notes?' 'Why, of course. Now which was it?' 'It is so very beautiful,' I explained. 'Right at the beginning the melody rises, then it becomes fervent, and finally it ends very softly. You sing it more frequently than the others.' 'Oh, I suppose it's this one,' she said, setting down her basket, and placing her foot on the stool. Then, keeping time by nodding her head, she sang the song in a very low, yet clear voice, so beautifully and so charmingly that, before she had quite finished, I tried to grasp her hand, which was hanging at her side. 'What do you mean!' she cried, drawing back her arm, for she probably thought I intended to take her hand immodestly. I wanted to kiss it, although she was only a poor girl.--Well, after all, I too am poor now!

"I ran my fingers through my hair in my eagerness to secure the song and when she observed my anxiety, she consoled me and said that the organist of St. Peter's visited her father's store frequently to buy nutmeg, that she would ask him to write out the music of the song, and that I might call for it in a few days. Thereupon she took up her basket and went, while I accompanied her as far as the staircase. As I was making a final bow on the top step, I was surprised by the director, who bade me go to my work and railed against the girl, in whom, he asserted, there wasn't a vestige of good. I was very angry at this and was about to retort that I begged to differ with him, when I realized that he had returned to his office. Therefore I calmed myself and also went back to my desk. But from that time on he was firmly convinced that I was a careless employee and a dissipated fellow.

"As a matter of fact, I was unable to do any decent work on that day or on the following days, for the song kept running through my head. I seemed to be in a trance. Several days passed and I was in doubt whether to call for the music or not. The girl had said that the organist came to her father's store to buy nutmeg; this he could use only for his beer. Now the weather had been cold for some time, and therefore it was probable that the good organist would rather drink wine and thus not be in need of nutmeg so soon. A too hasty inquiry might seem impolite and obtrusive, while, on the other hand, a delay might be interpreted as indifference. I didn't dare address the girl in the corridor, since our first meeting had been noised broad among my colleagues, and they were thirsting for an opportunity to play a practical joke on me.

"In the meantime I had again taken up my violin eagerly and devoted myself to a thorough study of the fundamental principles. Occasionally I permitted myself to improvise, but always closed my window carefully in advance, knowing that my playing had found disfavor. But even when I did open the window, I never heard my song again. Either my neighbor did not sing at all, or else she sang softly and behind closed doors, so that I could not distinguish one note from another.

"At last, about three weeks having passed, I could wait no longer. Two evenings in succession I had even stolen out upon the street, without a hat, so that the servants might think I was looking for something in the house, but whenever I came near the grocery store such a violent trembling seized me that I was obliged to turn back whether I wanted to or not. At last, however, as I said, I couldn't wait any longer. I took courage, and one evening left my room, this time also without a hat, went downstairs and walked with a firm step through the street to the grocery store, in front of which I stopped for a moment, deliberating what was to be done next. The store was lighted and I heard voices within. After some hesitation I leaned forward and peered in from the side. I saw the girl sitting close before the counter by the light, picking over some peas or beans in a wooden bowl. Before her stood a coarse, powerful man, who looked like a butcher; his jacket was thrown over his shoulders and he held a sort of club in his hand. The two were talking, evidently in good humor, for the girl laughed aloud several times, but without interrupting her work or even looking up. Whether it was my unnatural, strained position, or whatever else it may have been, I began to tremble again, when I suddenly felt myself seized by a rough hand from the back and dragged forward. In a twinkling I was in the store, and when I was released and looked about me, I saw that it was the proprietor himself, who, returning home, had caught me peering through his window and seized me as a suspicious character. 'Confound it!' he cried, 'now I understand what becomes of my prunes and the handfuls of peas and barley which are taken from my baskets in the dark. Damn it all!' With that he made for me, as though he meant to strike me.

"I felt utterly crushed, but the thought that my honesty was being questioned soon brought me back to my senses. I therefore made a curt bow and told the uncivil man that my visit was not intended for his prunes or his barley, but for his daughter. At these words the butcher, who was standing in the middle of the store, set up a loud laugh and turned as if to go, having first whispered a few words to the girl, to which she laughingly replied with a resounding slap of her flat hand upon his back. The grocer accompanied him to the door. Meanwhile all my courage had again deserted me, and I stood facing the girl, who was indifferently picking her peas and beans as though the whole affair didn't concern her in the least. 'Sir,' he said, 'what business have you with my daughter?' I tried to explain the circumstance and the cause of my visit. 'Song! I'll sing you a song!' he exclaimed, moving his right arm up and down in rather threatening fashion. 'There it is,' said the girl, tilting her chair sideways and pointing with her hand to the counter without setting down the bowl. I rushed over and saw a sheet of music lying there. It was the song. But the old man got there first, and crumpled the beautiful paper in his hand. 'What does this mean?' he said. 'Who is this fellow?' 'He is one of the gentlemen from the chancery,' she replied, throwing a worm-eaten pea a little farther away than the rest. 'A gentleman from the chancery,' he cried, 'in the dark, without a hat?' I accounted for the absence of a hat by explaining that I lived close by; at the same time I designated the house. 'I know the house,' he cried. 'Nobody lives there but the Court Councilor'--here he mentioned the name of my father--'and I know all the servants.' 'I am the son of the Councilor,' I said in a low voice, as though I were telling a lie. I have seen many changes during my life, but none so sudden as that which came over the man at these words. His mouth, which he had opened to heap abuse upon me, remained open, his eyes still looked threatening, but about the lower part of his face a smile began to play which spread more and more. The girl remained indifferent and continued in her stooping posture. Without interrupting her work, she pushed her loose hair back behind her ears. 'The son of the Court Councilor!' finally exclaimed the old man, from whose face the clouds had entirely disappeared. 'Won't you make yourself comfortable, sir? Barbara, bring a chair!' The girl stirred reluctantly on hers. 'Never mind, you sneak!' he said, taking a basket from a stool and wiping the dust from the latter with his handkerchief. 'This is a great honor,' he continued. 'Has His Honor, the Councilor--I mean His Honor's son, also taken up music? Perhaps you sing like my daughter, or rather quite differently, from notes and according to rule?' I told him that nature had not gifted me with a voice. 'Oh, perhaps you play the piano, as fashionable people do?' I told him I played the violin. 'I used to scratch on the fiddle myself when I was a boy,' he said. At the word 'scratch' I involuntarily looked at the girl and saw a mocking smile on her lips, which annoyed me greatly.

"'You ought to take an interest in the girl, that is, in her music,' he continued. 'She has a good voice, and possesses other good qualities; but refinement--good heavens, where should she get it?' So saying, he repeatedly rubbed the thumb and forefinger of his right hand together. I was quite confused at being undeservedly credited with such a considerable knowledge of music, and was just on the point of explaining the true state of affairs, when some one passing the store called in 'Good evening, all!' I started, for it was the voice of one of our servants. The grocer had also recognized it. Putting out the tip of his tongue and raising his shoulders, he whispered: 'It was one of the servants of His Honor, your father, but he couldn't recognize you, because you were standing with your back to the door.' This was so, to be sure, but nevertheless the feeling of doing something on the sly, something wrong, affected me painfully. I managed to mumble a few words of parting, and went out. I should even have left the song behind had not the old man run into the street after me and pressed it into my hand.

"I reached my room and awaited developments. And I didn't have to wait long. The servant had recognized me after all. A few days later my father's private secretary looked me up in my room and announced that I was to leave my home. All my remonstrances were in vain. A little room had been rented for me in a distant suburb and thus I was completely banished from my family. Nor did I see my singer again. She had been forbidden to vend her cakes in the chancery, and I couldn't make up my mind to visit her father's store, since I knew that this would displease mine. Once, when accidentally I met the old grocer on the street, he even turned away from me with an angry expression, and I was stunned. And so I got out my violin and played and practised, being frequently alone half the day.

"But even worse things were in store for me. The fortunes of our house were declining. My youngest brother, a headstrong, impetuous fellow, was an officer in a regiment of dragoons. As the result of a reckless wager, he foolishly swam the Danube, mounted and in full armor, while heated from the exertion of a ride. This escapade, which occurred while he was far away in Hungary, cost him his life. My older brother, my father's favorite, held an appointment as a member of provincial council. In constant opposition to the governor of the province, he even went so far as to promulgate untruthful statements in order to injure his opponent, being secretly incited thereto, as rumor had it, by our father. An investigation followed, and my brother took French leave of the country. Our father's enemies, of whom there were many, utilized this circumstance to bring about his downfall. Attacked on all sides, and at the same time enraged at the waning of his influence, he delivered daily the most bitter speeches at the meetings of the council, and it was in the middle of a speech that he suffered a stroke of apoplexy. They brought him home, bereft of the power of speech. I myself heard nothing of all this. The next day in the chancery I noticed that the men were whispering secretly and pointing at me with their fingers. But I was accustomed to such treatment and paid no further attention to it. On the following Friday--the sad event had occurred on a Wednesday--a black suit of clothes with crepe was suddenly brought to my room. I was naturally astonished, asked for the reason, and was informed of what had taken place. Ordinarily my body is strong and capable of resistance, but then I was completely overcome. I fell to the floor in a swoon. They carried me to bed, where I lay in a fever and was delirious throughout the day and the entire night. The next morning my strong constitution had conquered, but my father was dead and buried.

"I had not been able to speak to him again, to ask his forgiveness for all the sorrow I had brought upon him, or to thank him for all the undeserved favors--yes, favors, for his intentions had been good; and some time I hope to meet him again where we are judged by our intentions and not by our acts.

"For several days I kept my room and scarcely touched any food. At last I went out, but came home again immediately after dinner. Only in the evening I wandered about the dark streets like Cain, the murderer of his brother. My father's house appeared to me a dreadful phantom, and I avoided it most carefully. But once, staring vacantly before me, I found myself unexpectedly in the vicinity of the dreaded house. My knees trembled so that I was obliged to seek support. Leaning against the wall behind me, I recognized the door of the grocery store. Barbara was sitting inside, a letter in her hand, the light upon the counter beside her, and standing up straight close by was her father, who seemed to be urging something upon her. I should have entered, even though my life had been at stake. You have no idea how awful it is to have no one to pour out one's heart to, no one to look to for sympathy. The old man, I knew very well, was angry with me, but I thought the girl would say a kind word to me. But it turned out just the other way. Barbara rose as I entered, looked at me haughtily, and went into the adjoining room, locking the door behind her. The old man, however, shook hands with me, bade me sit down and consoled me, at the same time intimating that I was now a rich man and my own master. He wanted to know how much I had inherited. I couldn't tell him. He urged me to go to court about it, which I promised to do. He was of the opinion that no fortune could be made in a chancery. He then advised me to invest my inheritance in a business, assured me that gallnuts and fruit would yield a good profit and that a partner who understood this particular business could turn dimes into dollars, and said that he himself had at one time done well in that line.

"While he was telling me all this, he repeatedly called for the girl, who gave no sign of life, however, although it seemed to me as though I sometimes heard a rustling near the door. But since she did not put in an appearance, and since the old man talked of nothing but money, I finally took my leave, the grocer regretting that he could not accompany me, as he was alone in the store. I was grievously disappointed that my hopes had not been fulfilled, and yet I felt strangely consoled. As I stopped in the street and looked over toward my father's house, I suddenly heard a voice behind me saying in a subdued and indignant tone: 'Don't be too ready to trust everybody; they're after your money.' Although I turned quickly, I saw no one. Only the rattling of a window on the ground floor of the grocer's house told me, even if I had not recognized the voice, that the secret warning had come from Barbara. So she had overheard what had been said in the store! Did she intend to warn me against her father? Or had it come to her knowledge that immediately after my father's death colleagues of the chancery as well as utter strangers had approached me with requests for support and aid, and that I had promised to help them as soon as I should be in possession of the money? My promises I was obliged to keep, but I resolved to be more careful in future. I applied for my inheritance. It was less than had been expected, but still a considerable sum, nearly eleven thousand gulden. The whole day my room was besieged by people demanding financial assistance. I had almost become hardened, however, and granted a request only when the distress was really great. Barbara's father also came. He scolded me for not having been around for three days, whereupon I truthfully replied that I feared I was unwelcome to his daughter. But he told me with a malicious laugh that alarmed me, not to worry on that score; that he had brought her to her senses. Thus reminded of Barbara's warning, I concealed the amount of the inheritance when the subject came up in the course of the conversation and also skilfully evaded his business proposals.

"As a matter of fact, I was already turning other prospects over in my mind. In the chancery, where I had been tolerated only on account of my father, my place had already been filled by another, which troubled me little, since no salary was attached to the position. But my father's secretary, whom recent events had deprived of his livelihood, informed me of a plan for the establishment of a bureau of information, copying, and translation. For this undertaking I was to advance the initial cost of equipment, he being prepared to undertake the management. At my request the field of copying was extended so as to include music, and now I was perfectly happy. I advanced the necessary sum, but, having grown cautious, demanded a written receipt. The rather large bond for the establishment, which I likewise furnished, caused me no worry, since it had to be deposited with the court, where it was as safe as though it were locked up in my strong-box.

"The affair was settled, and I felt relieved, exalted; for the first time in my life I was independent--I was a man at last. I scarcely gave my father another thought. I moved into a better apartment, procured better clothes, and when it had become dark, I went through familiar streets to the grocery store, with a swinging step and humming my song, although not quite correctly. I never have been able to strike the B flat in the second half. I arrived in the best of spirits, but an icy look from Barbara immediately threw me back into my former state of timidity. Her father received me most cordially; but she acted as if no one were present, continued making paper bags, and took no part whatever in our conversation. Only when we touched upon the subject of my inheritance, she rose in her seat and exclaimed in an almost threatening tone, 'Father!' Thereupon the old man immediately changed the subject. Aside from that, she said nothing during the whole evening, didn't give me a second look, and, when I finally took my leave, her 'good-night' sounded almost like a 'thank heaven.'

"But I came again and again, and gradually she yielded--not that I ever did anything that pleased her. She scolded me and found fault with me incessantly. Everything I did she considered clumsy; God had given me two left hands; my coat fitted so badly, it made me look like a scarecrow; my walk was a cross between that of a duck and cock. What she disliked especially was my politeness toward the customers. As I had nothing to do until the opening of the copying bureau, where I should have direct dealings with the public, I considered it a good preliminary training to take an active part in the retail business of the grocery store. This often kept me there half the day. I weighed spices, counted out nuts and prunes for the children, and acted as cashier. In this latter capacity I was frequently guilty of errors, in which event Barbara would interfere by forcibly taking away whatever money I had in my hand, and ridiculing and mocking me before the customers. If I bowed to a customer or recommended myself to his kind consideration, she would say brusquely, even before he had left the store, 'The goods carry their own recommendation,' and turn her back upon me. At other times, however, she was all kindness; she listened to me when I told her what was going on in the city, or when I spoke of my early years, or of the business of the chancery, where we had first met. But at such times she let me do all the talking and expressed her approval or--as happened more frequently--her disapproval only by casual words.

"We never spoke of music or singing. In the first place, she believed one should either sing or keep quiet, that there was no sense in talking about it. But it was not possible to do any singing--the store was not the proper place for it, and the rear room, which she occupied with her father, I was not allowed to enter. Once, however, when I entered unnoticed, she was standing on tip-toe, her back turned toward me, with her hands raised above her head, groping along one of the upper shelves as if looking for something. At the same time she was singing softly to herself--it was the song, my song! She was warbling like a hedge-sparrow when it bathes its breast in the brook, tosses its head, ruffles its feathers, and smoothes them again with its little beak. I seemed to be walking in a green meadow. I crept nearer and nearer, and was so close that the melody seemed no longer to come from without, but out of my own breast--a song of souls. I was unable to contain myself any longer, and as she stood there straining forward, her shoulders thrown slightly back towards me, I threw both arms around her body. But then the storm broke. She whirled around like a top. Her face livid with rage, she stood before me; her hand twitched, and before I could utter a word of apology, the blow came.

"As I have said before, my colleagues in the chancery used to tell a story of a box on the ear, which Barbara, when she was still vending cakes, had dealt out to an impertinent fellow. What they then said of the strength of this rather small girl and of the power of her hand, seemed greatly and humorously exaggerated. But it was a fact; her strength was tremendous. I stood as though I had been struck by a thunderbolt. The lights were dancing before my eyes, but they were the lights of heaven. It seemed like sun, moon and stars, like angels playing hide-and-seek and singing at the same time. I had visions; I was entranced. She, however, scarcely less astonished than I, passed her hand gently over the place she had struck. 'I'm afraid I struck more violently than I intended,' she said, and, like a second thunderbolt, I suddenly felt her warm breath and her lips upon my cheeks. She kissed me--only gently, but it was a kiss, a kiss upon this very cheek." As he said this, the old man put his hand to his cheek, and tears came to his eyes. "What happened after that I do not know," he continued. "I only remember that I rushed toward her and that she ran into the sitting room and threw herself against the glass door, while I pushed against it from the other side. As she pressed forward with all her might against the glass panel, I took courage, dear sir, and returned her kiss with great fervor--through the glass!

"'Well, this is a jolly party,' I heard some one call out behind me. It was the grocer, just returning home. 'People who love each other are fond of teasing each other,' he said. 'Come out, Barbara, don't be foolish. There's naught amiss in an honest kiss.' But she didn't come out. I took my leave after having stammered a few words of apology, scarcely knowing what I was saying. In my confusion I took the grocer's hat instead of my own, and he laughingly corrected the mistake. This was, as I called it before, the happiest day of my life--I had almost said, the only happy day. But that wouldn't be true, for man receives many favors from God.

"I didn't know exactly what the girl's feelings toward me were. Was she angry or had I conciliated her? The next visit cost me a great effort. But I found her amiable. She sat over her work, humble and quiet, not irritable as usual, and motioned with her head toward a stool standing near, intimating that I should sit down and help her. Thus we sat and worked. The old man prepared to go out. 'You needn't go, Father,' she said, 'what you want to do has already been attended to.' He stamped his foot on the floor and remained. Walking up and down he talked of different things, but I didn't dare take part in the conversation. Suddenly the girl uttered a low scream. She had cut her finger slightly and, although she didn't usually pay any attention to such trifles, she shook her hand back and forth. I wanted to examine the cut, but she beckoned to me to continue my work. 'There is no end to your tomfoolery,' the old man grumbled; and, stepping before the girl, he said in a loud voice, 'What I was going to do hasn't been attended to at all,' and with a heavy tread he went out of the door. Then I started to make apologies for the day before, but she interrupted me and said, 'Let us forget that, and talk of more sensible things.'

"She raised her head, looked at me from head to foot, and continued in a calm tone of voice, 'I scarcely remember the beginning of our acquaintance, but for some time you have been calling more and more frequently, and we have become accustomed to you. Nobody will deny that you have an honest heart, but you are weak and always interested in matters of secondary importance, so that you are hardly capable of managing your own affairs. It is therefore the duty of your friends and acquaintances to look out for you, in order that people may not take advantage of you. Frequently you sit here in the store half the day, counting and weighing, measuring and bargaining, but what good does that do you? How do you expect to make your living in future?' I mentioned the inheritance from my father. 'I suppose it's quite large,' she said. I named the amount. 'That's much and little,' she replied. 'Much to invest, little to live upon. My father made you a proposition, but I dissuaded you. For, on the one hand, he has lost money himself in similar ventures, and on the other hand,' she added with lowered voice, 'he is so accustomed to take advantage of strangers that it's quite possible he wouldn't treat friends any better. You must have somebody at your side who has your interests at heart.' I pointed to her. 'I am honest,' she said, laying her hand upon her heart. Her eyes, which were ordinarily of a greyish hue, shone bright blue, the blue of the sky. 'But I'm in a peculiar position. Our business yields little profit, and so my father intends to set himself up as an innkeeper. Now that's no place for me, and nothing remains for me, therefore, but needlework, for I will not go out as a servant.' As she said this she looked like a queen. 'As a matter of fact I've had another offer,' she continued, drawing a letter from her apron and throwing it half reluctantly upon the counter. 'But in that case I should be obliged to leave the city.' 'Would you have to go far away?' I asked. 'Why? What difference would that make to you?' I told her I should move to the same place. 'You're a child,' she said. 'That wouldn't do at all, and there are quite different matters to be considered. But if you have confidence in me and like to be near me, buy the millinery store next door, which is for sale. I understand the business, and you can count on a reasonable profit on your investment. Besides, keeping the books and attending to the correspondence would supply you with a proper occupation. What might develop later on, we'll not discuss at present. But you would have to change, for I hate effeminate men.' I had jumped up and seized my hat. 'What's the matter? Where are you going?' she asked. 'To countermand everything!' I said breathlessly. 'Countermand what?' I then told her of my plan for the establishment of a copying and information bureau. 'There isn't much in that,' she suggested. 'Information anybody can get for himself, and everybody has learned to write in school.' I remarked that music was also to be copied, which was something that not everybody could do. 'So you're back at your old nonsense?' she burst out. 'Let your music go, and think of more important matters. Besides, you're not able to manage a business yourself.' I explained that I had found a partner. 'A partner?' she exclaimed. 'You'll surely be cheated. I hope you haven't advanced any money?' I was trembling without knowing why. 'Did you advance any money?' she asked once more. I admitted that I had advanced the three thousand gulden for the initial equipment. 'Three thousand gulden!' she exclaimed; 'as much as that?' 'The rest,' I continued, 'is deposited with the court, and that's safe at all events.' 'What, still more?' she screamed. I mentioned the amount of the bond. 'And did you pay it over to the court personally?' 'My partner paid it.' 'But you have a receipt for it.' 'I haven't.' 'And what is the name of your fine partner?' she asked. It was a relief to be able to mention my father's secretary.

"'Good heavens!' she cried, starting up and wringing her hands. 'Father! Father!' The old man entered. 'What was that you read in the papers today?' 'About the secretary?' he asked. 'Yes, yes!' 'Oh, he absconded, left nothing but debts, and swindled everybody. A warrant for his arrest has been issued.' 'Father,' she cried, 'here's one of his victims. He intrusted his money to him. He is ruined!'

"'Oh, you blockhead! The fools aren't all dead yet,' cried the old man. 'Didn't I tell her so? But she always found an excuse for him. At one time she ridiculed him, at another time he was honesty itself. But I'll take a hand in this business! I'll show you who's master in this house. You, Barbara, go to your room, and quickly. And you, sir, get out, and spare us your visits in future. We're not in the charity business here.' 'Father,' said the girl, 'don't be harsh with him; he's unhappy enough as it is!' 'That's the very reason I don't want to become unhappy too,' cried the old man. 'There, sir,' he continued, pointing to the letter Barbara had thrown upon the table a short time before, 'there's a man for you! He's got brains in his head and money in his purse. He doesn't swindle any one, but he takes good care at the same time not to let any one swindle him. And that's the main thing in being honest!' I stammered something about the loss of the bond not being certain. 'Ha, ha,' he cried, 'that secretary was no fool, the sly rascal! And now you'd better run after him, perhaps you can still catch him.' As he said this, he laid the palm of his hand on my shoulder and pushed me toward the door. I moved to one side and turned toward the girl, who was standing with her hands resting on the counter and her eyes fixed on the ground. She was breathing heavily. I wanted to approach her, but she angrily stamped her foot upon the floor; and when I held out my hand, hers twitched as though she were going to strike me again. Then I went, and the old man locked the door behind me.