CHAPTER IV
The Same Night in Two Houses
When on this evening Edi and Ritz were lying in their bed and Mother hadfinished saying evening prayer with them and had closed the door afterher, Edi began: "Have you noticed, Ritz, that Father is almost like God?He already knows the thing before one has told half of it."
"No, I have never noticed that," Ritz replied. "But it is all right, forthen he can do everything he wants to and also make fine weather."
"Oh, Ritz, you only look at the profit! but just look at the otherside." Here Edi rose up in bed from pure zeal and continued: "Do youremember, not long ago I recited our songs, which we made about theothers, to Papa; then he knew at once that we were preparing a big fightand has forbidden us to take part in it. And this evening they all havetalked it over that I should lead the boys of Upper Wood into battle,and I have thought it all over and prepared ahead. Then I would beFabius Cunctator, and would lead my troops above on the hill round andround it and would not attack, for you must know that is much safer, andso Hannibal could do nothing and could not attack me."
"Is Hannibal still living then?" asked Ritz serenely.
"Oh, Ritz, how indescribably ignorant you are!" Edi remarkedcompassionately. "He died more than a thousand years ago. But big Churi,the leader of the Middle Lotters, our enemies, is Hannibal. But you see,I just remember something: Churi is not a real Hannibal, for he was agreat and noble general, and Churi cannot represent him; but do you knowwhat, we can take the strange boy Erick, for Hannibal!--he looks quitedifferent from Churi,--shall we?"
"That is all the same to me since we cannot be in the fight," remarkedRitz.
"That is true, we dare not, I had quite forgotten that," lamented Edi."If I only knew what we could do to be in this fight and yet not doanything that is forbidden."
"Don't you know an example in the world's history?" asked Ritz, to whomhis brother presented so often, in cases of need, examples out of thisrich fountain.
"No. If we only lived like the old Greeks," Edi answered with a deepsigh. "When they wanted to know anything of which no one knew theanswer, they quickly drove to Delphi to the oracle and asked advice.Then there was an answer at once and they knew what was to be done. Butnow there are no more oracles, not even in Greece. Isn't that too bad?"
"Yes, that is too bad," said Ritz rather sleepily, "but I am sure youwill think of another example."
Edi began at once to think, but however much he thought, and groped inhis memory and upheaved what he had stored away in his brain, he couldnot find in the whole history of the world one single case where someone had carried out something that the father had forbidden, and yetstood afterwards with honor before him. For that was what Edi was tryingto find; and he was sitting straight up in his bed in the dark, and inspite of all his endeavors he could find no way out. And when he nowheard the deep breathing of the sweetly sleeping Ritz, he became toodiscouraged to try any more. He lay down on his pillow and was soondreaming about the uniform of Fabius Cunctator.
Soon after this Marianne too lay down on her couch, but for a long timesleep would not come. The singing of the lady downstairs had made hervery, very sad; this voice had never before touched her so deeply as ithad done this evening, and she still heard the sound of weeping andrejoicing in confusion. So Marianne heard the old clock on the wallstrike eleven, then twelve, and yet she could not go to sleep. Now itseemed to her as if she heard a gentle knocking below in the house. Whocould want anything of her so late in the night? She must be mistaken,she said to herself. But no, she now heard it quite plainly, somebodywas knocking somewhere. She quickly dressed herself and hastened down tothe kitchen. She opened the front door--no one was there. But theknocking came again and now Marianne thought that it came from thesleeping room of her boarders. Softly she opened the door of the room.Within the pale lady sat on her bed, but she was much paler than usual,so that Marianne stepped quickly into the room, and much frightened, sheexclaimed: "Dear me! What is the matter? Oh how bad you do look!"
"Yes, I feel very ill, my good Marianne," the lady answered with herfriendly voice. "I am so sorry that I frightened you so in the middle ofthe night; but I had no rest, I was obliged to call you. I have a fewthings to tell you and it might have been too late."
"Dear, dear! what do you mean?" lamented Marianne. "I will get thedoctor at once from Lower Wood,--he is the nearest."
"No, Marianne, I thank you, I know my condition," said the sick womansoothingly, "it is a cramp in my heart, which often comes and this timemore terribly than usual, and so, my good Marianne, I wanted to tell youthat if I am no longer here tomorrow, will you give this," (and she gavea small paper to Marianne), "to him who has to prepare for my lastresting-place. It is the only thing that I leave, and which I have savedfor a long time, so that I need not be buried in a pauper's grave. Thatmust not be, for my father's sake," she added, very softly.
"Dear, dear Lord!" Marianne lamented, "grant that it may not be that! Dothink of the dear little boy! Dear Mrs. Dorn, do not take it amiss, Ihave never before asked anything at all, but if you leave nothing, whathave I to do with the dear boy? Has he no relatives? Has he no father?"
The mother looked at the sleeping Erick, who, with his golden curlsencircling his rosy face, lay there so peacefully and so carefree. Sheput her hand on his forehead--for his narrow bed stood quite close tohers--and said softly: "On earth you have no father any more, my child,but above in heaven there lives a Father who will not forsake you. Ihave given you long since to Him. I know He will care for you andprotect you, so I can go quietly and joyfully. Yes, my good Marianne,"she turned again to the latter, "I have done a great wrong; I have hurtdeeply the best of fathers through disobedience and selfishness. Forthat I have suffered much; but in my suffering it was permitted me tolearn how great the love and compassion of our Father in heaven is forHis children, and since then a song of deepest gratitude sounds ever andever in my heart:
"'I lay in heaviest fetters, Thou com'st and set'st me free; I stood in shame and sorrow, Thou callest me to Thee; And lift'st me up to honor And giv'st me heavenly joys Which cannot be diminished By earthly scorn and noise.'"
The sick woman had folded her hands while she spoke, and in her eyesthere was a wonderful light; but now she sank back on her pillows,exhausted and pale. Marianne stood there quietly and now and then had towipe her eyes.
"But now I must run to the doctor,--it is high time," she said,frightened. "Mrs. Dorn, can I give you anything?"
"No, I thank you," the sick woman answered softly. "I thank you foreverything, my good Marianne."
The latter now hastily left the house and ran as fast as she couldthrough the silent night toward Lower Wood. From time to time she had tostop to get her breath. Then she looked up to the bright star-coveredsky and prayed: "Dear God, help us all." She had great difficulty inawakening the doctor in Lower Wood at two o'clock in the night; but atlast he heard her knocking and followed her soon after on the road toher house. When they entered together the room of the sick woman, thelight had burned down and threw a faint light on the quiet, pale face.The mother had stretched out her arm upon the bed of her child. The boyhad encircled her slender, white hand with both his plump hands, andheld it firmly. The doctor approached and looked closer at the sleeper;he bent over her for some moments.
"Marianne," he said, "loosen the hand out of the little boy's. The womanis sleeping her eternal sleep, she will nevermore awaken on this earth.She must have died suddenly from heart failure, while you were away tofetch me."
The doctor left the quiet house at once, and Marianne did as he had toldher. She folded the hands of the departed one on her breast, then shesat down on Erick's bed, looking now at the serious face of the deadmother, now at the care-free sleeping boy, and wept quietly, until therays of the morning sun fell into the quiet room and roused Marianne tothe consciousness that a new, sad day had begun--a day on which Erickhad to be told that he never again on this earth could t
ake hold of theloving hand of his mother.
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