After Long Years and Other Stories
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Translated from the German by Sophie A. Miller and Agnes M. Dunne >> After Long Years and Other Stories
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After the deputation had departed, and Hans found himself alone, he
dressed, put a flower in his buttonhole, and walked over to the
Counselor's house; for now the moment had arrived when he could prove
his worth.
CHAPTER IV
THE CONDITION
Marie opened the door. A loud cry of joy escaped her, and she ran to her
room.
Hans, undaunted, stepped up to her father.
"What do you wish?" said the Counselor, with flashing eyes.
"I wish first to thank you for your faith in me."
"You need not thank me," interrupted her father. "I did not cast my vote
for you."
"So?" said Hans, disappointed. "That was not kind. What did you have to
say against me?"
"What, do you still ask the same old question? You well know my opinion
of you. You know that I wish my daughter to marry a good and honorable
man."
"Well," said Hans, "I know a worthy man and I have come to bring him
before you."
"Pray, who can he be?"
"I, worthy Counselor."
"You? Did anyone ever hear such audacity from a beggar boy?"
"Mr. Counselor, I never was a beggar. I was poor, but let that person
come before you who dares say he ever gave me a cent. My father
supported me until his death, when my mother took up the burden. The
only thing I ever received was the King's gift, and for that I never
begged. The King gave it to me out of his big heart. His eye could
pierce with love the soul of humanity; and in me, a poor boy, he sensed
appreciation. Truly, his money has accumulated interest. I am no beggar,
Mr. Counselor, and will not tolerate such a speech."
"No, you will not tolerate it;" said he, somewhat calmed. "Where, then,
is your wealth?"
"Here," said Hans Le Fevre, and he touched his head and his hands. "I
have a thinking head and skilled hands."
"Well, what do you purpose doing?"
"For the next two years I shall be busy with the altar, which will yield
me ample means to marry your daughter."
Long and wearily they argued, till Hans felt as if he could control
himself no longer.
"O, patience!" he cried, "if it were not that I regard you as something
holy, because you are the father of Marie, I would not brook your
disdain. A king held the ladder for Durer, and a Counselor treats his
beloved pupil like a rogue. Yonder is a laughing, alluring world. There
I have enjoyed all the honors of my calling; and here, in this little
dark corner of the earth, I must let myself be trodden upon. All because
I bring a ray of sunshine and beauty that hurts your blinded eyes--in
short, because I am an artist."
"Go, then, into your artistic world. Why didn't you stay there? Why did
you bother to return to this dark corner, as you name it?"
"Because I love your daughter so much, that no sacrifice I could make
would be too great."
"Did you for one moment think that I could sink so far as to allow my
daughter to marry an artist?"
"Yes, considering the respect I enjoyed."
"Well, I don't care how many times the King held the ladder, or whether
or not he cleaned Durer's shoes, I will hold to this: that as impossible
as it is for you to build within the Cathedral an altar that is yet
higher than the Cathedral, just so impossible is it for you to marry my
daughter, who is so much above you in station."
"Mr. Counselor, is this your last word?" said Hans.
The Counselor laughed scornfully, and said, "Carve an altar that is
higher than the church in which it is to stand. Then, and not before
then, you may ask for my daughter."
Hans hastened from his presence and turned his steps to the rose-bush.
It was a beautiful day. Shadowless the world lay before him. Splendor
and glory streamed from the sky. But nature in all her beauty seemed to
him, this day, like a disinterested friend, who laughs while another
grieves. He seated himself in the niche under the rose-bush, where
somehow he always felt the Emperor's presence and influence, and where,
too, he always found peace and hope.
But what hope could ever come to him again? Could the bush uproot itself
and plead with the Counselor? Could the King, who had never returned in
life, return from death to help him? No one could help him, for had not
the Counselor taken an oath, that he would not give his daughter to him,
unless he built an altar higher than the church in which it should
stand. This, of course, was impossible. His overcharged feelings gave
vent to tears, and he cried, "My Emperor, my Emperor, why did you desert
me?" This time Marie was not at his side to cheer him, and tell him that
God would not desert him.
All was still, except the humming of the bees among the roses; and in
the distance the birds sang. All of a sudden something struck him in the
back. He thought that maybe the Emperor had returned. But what was it
but the rosebush, which by the force of its own weight had loosened
itself from the arched wall and had pressed itself outward. For the
first time, Hans noticed that the bush had grown much higher than the
niche in which it had been planted. As quick as lightning a thought
flashed through his brain. What had the rose-bush taught him?
CHAPTER V
THE FULFILMENT
Hans could not see Marie, for her father had sent her far away.
From early morn till late at night Hans worked, without rest or quiet.
Neither pleadings nor threats moved him to desist from his labors. He
lived like a hermit in his workshop. Two long years had passed; and at
last Hans appeared at the Council Chamber and made known the fact that
he had accomplished the work assigned him.
Great excitement reigned in Breisach. The Cathedral was locked for three
days, during which time the altar was to be placed. Many inquisitive
neighbors gathered around the Cathedral to get a glimpse of the work, if
possible. But well-wrapped and concealed, Hans brought the pieces, one
by one, from his house--and so the excitement grew intenser every
moment.
On the fourth day the altar was to be dedicated. Early in the day the
people started for the Cathedral. Joyously the big clock resounded. From
all sides, by foot and by wagon, the country folk swarmed to see the
wonderful work, the talk of the neighborhood for the past two years.
At break of day Hans had hastened to the Cathedral once more to test his
work with his critical eye. Just then the bell pealed forth. He dropped
his hat, and with folded hands offered a short prayer.
Anyone who has worked for years, in the sweat of his brow, for future
and fortune, knows how Hans felt as he stood there in his mute
eloquence. His God understood it, too.
Now the crowd surged into the Cathedral, and the critical moment had
arrived when the artist gave his work, executed through long, lonely
days and nights, freely to the public eye. One last look he cast upon
his creation, then he withdrew, and in anxious suspense watched the
impression it would make upon the assembled people.
The morning sun sent her full rays directly upon the altar, and an
exclamation of astonishment echoed from the high-vaulted roof. Joy and
wonder filled each breast. There stood the altar before the people in
all its glory. Was it really wood--stiff, hard wood--from which these
figures had been carved? Were they not human? And that host of angels
that seemed to be singing "Hallelujah," each one so perfectly natural.
All figures were life size. The entire work was entwined and crowned
with wreaths of artistically carved foliage, the center branch of which
reached upward to the arched ceiling.
The untrained eye of the simple villagers could not all at once, drink
in such a work. Not one of them had ever beheld the like. They felt
there must be some magic in it. They now crowded around the artist, who,
modest and deeply affected, felt every eye that beamed upon him. The
Mayor stepped forward and heartily shook him by the hand. Each one
followed his example, except the Counselor, who leaned sullenly against
a pillar.
Marie, who had been permitted to return for this occasion, stood beside
her father, paler than ever, but with a heavenly expression in her
charming face.
"Do you not notice that one of the angels on the altar resembles Marie?"
said one to the other.
"True it is."
"And that another angel resembles the Emperor Maximilian?" said an old
man. Like lightning, this news flew from row to row. Marie and the
Emperor had been portrayed.
"Yes, my friends," said Hans, calmly and distinctly, "I did that because
I know of nothing more beautiful in the world than the Emperor and
Marie. God made people in His image, and the sculptor, who is like a
creator, has the right to choose those forms which he feels are most
like the Image."
"Well said," echoed from all sides.
Now Hans, with bold strides, neared the bench where the Counselor sat
with his daughter.
"I still have something to say to you, and you must hear me. I have
fully carried out your behest. Will you now keep your oath? You demanded
of me what seemed impossible; namely, 'To build an altar higher than the
Church in which it should stand,' and you solemnly vowed, that if I
accomplished this, I should wed your daughter. Now, Mr. Counselor, look
up. The altar is exactly one foot higher than the Church, and yet it
stands within the Church--I have merely bent the top of it."
The Counselor saw it and paled. He had not dreamed of such a thing. It
sickened him; but, as Counselor, in all propriety and dignity, he would
have to keep his word before these assembled people.
A long pause ensued. Hans kept his patience. Then the Counselor arose,
and taking his daughter by the hand, presented her to Hans, saying, "A
Counselor should never break his word. There, take my child. You have
fulfilled the condition and I keep my vow."
Two young boys hastily brought in some branches from the rose-bush, and
wove wreaths for the pair. With loud approval, they crowned the master
and his bride. Humbly, Hans removed his crown, and laid it on the altar.
"These roses belong to God. With them He saved me. Do you notice,
Marie," said he, as he pointed upward to the curved top of the altar,
"that's what the rose-bush taught me. To you, Mr. Counselor, I would say
that one may bend and still be greater than the one who causes him to
stoop."
A few weeks later, Hans and Marie were married at this altar. It was a
wedding the elegance of which surprised Breisach. For his work the
grateful town had paid Hans a sum of money which, for that period, was a
small fortune.
Marie's father paid all the expenses which this occasion demanded. By
this time he realized how unreasonable he had been, and did all in his
power to make amends. Besides, he now respected his artist son-in-law,
and for many years he lived with the couple in peace and happiness.
THE VINEYARD ON THE HILLSIDE
CHAPTERS.
I. MISSING.
II. THE FAITHFUL DOG.
III. THE FOND FOSTER-PARENTS.
IV. THE ERRAND.
V. THE OLD MAN.
VI. THE LEGACY.
VII. THE JOURNEY.
[Illustration: "They reached the cradle and discovered the child in
it."]
THE VINEYARD ON THE HILLSIDE
CHAPTER I
MISSING
Many years ago, in a quaint little village bordering the bank of the
Rhine River, there lived a hard-working farmer, named Joseph Swift, and
his industrious wife, Caroline.
Their neat little white cottage stood very near the edge of the water,
where on the bright, sunny days it was beautifully reflected. On one
side of the cottage, there jutted out into the river a little hill,
overgrown with grapevines which Joseph had planted, and which as a
result of training and watchfulness yielded him abundant fruit. South of
the house there stretched a field, bordered on all sides by leafy
shrubbery. This plot of ground was used by Mrs. Swift as a bleachery,
and through her industry and carefulness she succeeded in making her
linen snow-white, so that all the housewives of that village and
neighboring town brought her their linens to bleach.
In this way Joseph Swift and his good little wife earned their daily
bread and a little more to lay by for time of need.
A big brown dog guarded the bleachery during the spring and summer
months; but in the early fall, when the grapes were ripening, he
transferred his attention to the vineyard. During the entire year, and
particularly in the long winter months, the house was his particular
care.
The little family lived happily and contentedly in simplicity and love.
These good people found their greatest joy and richest treasure upon
earth in their five little children. The youngest was a baby, less than
a year old. They trained them with the greatest care, and taught them to
work and pray. The children had a living example of goodness and
uprightness in their parents. This happy household, however, was soon to
experience a great change.
A cold, hard winter had set in and covered the fields and house-tops
with many blankets of snow. The river had frozen; and the people feared
that when the ice-floes and the immense quantity of snow began to melt,
the river would overflow its banks.
Weeks passed and at last a thaw set in. The ice and snow began to melt.
The brooks and rivulets swiftly carried the water to the great river.
Joseph Swift and his family retired early one night, and lay wrapped in
deep sleep. About midnight, the father's slumbers were broken by the
tones of the village clock. As he became more and more awake, he heard a
great splashing of water.
Hastily jumping out of his bed, he seized his clothing and rushed to
find out the cause of the disturbance. But so much water had filled the
hall that for a moment it seemed as if he could go no further. He
managed, however, to push along. As he opened the door of the house, the
water rushed in with such force and volume that it almost tore him from
his footing. He sprang back into the bed-room and cried: "Oh, Caroline,
Caroline, help me save our children!"
Caroline, half awake, tumbled out of bed and wrapped a garment around
each child. Then both parents made strides to reach the vineyard on the
hill.
The water rushed against them with such violence that they nearly sank
with their load. The night was dark, for the moon had long since gone
under and heavy clouds obscured the stars. The rain was falling in
torrents and a dreadful wind raged about them. The water so filled the
streets and by-ways that the Swifts thought each moment would be their
last. The children, half asleep, were crying loudly. From each house
still louder cries reached their ears.
In the distance, lamps began to flash their lights. Hundreds of people
could be seen striving with all their might to reach the hill. On all
sides difficulties and dangers confronted them.
Near the low window of a little hut, there stood a weeping mother with
her children. She passed them, one after the other, to her husband, who
stood in water up to his waist and could scarcely keep an upright
position.
In another place, grown sons were carrying an invalid mother, fleeing
with difficulty on account of their heavy burden. Some brave, humane men
hurried along with boats and brought them safely to the hill.
Mrs. Swift, with a child on each arm, was overthrown. Her husband,
equally burdened with two other children, could render her no
assistance. Two stalwart men rushed toward her, however, and brought
mother, children, and father to the neighboring hill.
Some men gathered sticks, and after many futile attempts at last started
a fire on the hill, so that the drenched people might dry themselves.
As Mrs. Swift, breathless and in a half-dazed condition, reached the
hill top, she looked at her children and uttered a loud cry: "Where is
my baby, where is my Edward?" The child--the baby--who had lain in a
cradle at the mother's bedside, was missing.
The water had rushed into the house in such volume that the cradle had
begun to move, and was carried along gradually by the force of the
water, till it passed out unnoticed through the open door. The mother
had tried to reach the cradle in the darkness; but, not finding it, she
had concluded that the father had taken the cradle and the baby to a
place of safety, and so she had given all her attention to the other
children. But now, discovering her mistake, she wrung her hands in grief
and cried pitifully. She started to return to her home to seize her
child from so dreadful a fate, but the father held her in his strong
arms.
"Stay," said he, "you could never reach our house safely. The water is
rising too quickly and is too powerful. I will go and rescue our child.
Our helpful neighbors will go with me."
"Yes, willingly," said the two men who had just helped Mrs. Swift.
Armed with long poles which they could thrust into the ground and with
which they could steady themselves, they started forth by the light of a
lantern.
All the people on the hill watched those three men tremblingly. At last
the light died away in the distance. Still they looked, although they
could distinguish nothing. They only heard the dreadful rushing of the
waters, the sighing of the winds, and from time to time the crash of a
falling house.
Mrs. Swift waited with bated breath for the return of her husband and
his faithful assistants. An hour had passed and nothing could be heard
or seen of them. Her fears increased each moment. At last the father
returned, with saddened countenance. One of his assistants said: "It was
impossible to reach your house, my good woman; the water was too deep.
We were in water up to our necks and were almost drowned."
Then the other man spoke up and said: "But don't give up hope, for many
brave men have been helping, all along the way. Before the water got the
upper hand, they went about with lanterns, rousing the people. Perhaps
they have cared for the baby in its cradle."
Many people, laden with household goods, reached the hill from time to
time, but the cradle never appeared and no one knew the whereabouts of
the baby.
After the dreadful night, the dawn at last broke forth; rain and storm
subsided; the clouds rolled away and the morning sun streaked the
horizon in flaming red.
From the people gathered about the fire, there arose a dreadful cry of
dismay. By the morning light, they saw that half of their village had
been submerged.
Mr. Swift's house, with many others, had been swept away by the flood.
Many a house stood roofless and in a state of threatened collapse.
People cried for the loss of their homes, but Mrs. Swift cried for the
loss of her babe. "Though everything be gone," said she, "I should care
not, had I but my child." Poor Mr. Swift, too, was more concerned about
his baby than about his other losses, and it was with a great effort
that he controlled his feelings.
The children lamented the loss of their brother as well as that of their
big pet dog, Rover.
Meanwhile, from the neighboring towns, many people had come in boats,
brought the homeless ones provisions and clothing, and offered them
shelter in their own homes. This was a great comfort for the
unfortunates.
Mr. Swift accepted their hospitality for that night. "To-morrow
morning," said he, "I will try to reach my brother's home, where I know
I can be housed with my family until the spring. Then I will rebuild my
home and help my neighbors build theirs. Let us not forget that if we
faithfully do our best, God will not forsake us. Perhaps this calamity
may in time bring us some blessing."
CHAPTER II
THE FAITHFUL DOG
Shortly after the Swifts fled, on the night of the flood, the walls of
their house had fallen with a thud, and only the strong beams remained
standing. By the time the house collapsed, the baby in its cradle had
drifted many miles down the river, along the banks of which much damage
had been wrought. The cradle passed a village which had been built on an
eminence and had consequently escaped.
The villagers who had gathered near the shore saw various household
goods floating down the river; there a table, here a chair, yonder a
trunk, and in one place even the entire roof of a house.
Two daring boys ventured to stand as near the water's edge as possible,
in order to see things a little better. All of a sudden one of the boys
cried: "Oh, see, there is a cradle afloat in mid-stream!" The other boy,
whose sight was keener, shouted: "See, a dog is swimming after it and is
trying to push it toward the shore!"
Several strong men standing near-by had long hooked poles, and were
busily engaged dragging things out of the river. One of them, a young
fisherman, saw the cradle and cried: "A baby must be in that cradle,
because the dog would not bother about an empty cradle. Up, brothers,
up, let us try to save the child. Let not the fidelity and bravery of a
dog put us to shame."
Notwithstanding the threatening danger of being crushed to death by the
rushing ice-floes, the men launched a boat and jumped into it. They
reached the cradle and discovered the child in it. They placed cradle
and babe in their boat and brought them safely to land.
The people rushed forward and crowded around the cradle to look at the
infant. Among the spectators were a gentleman and his wife, named Trent.
"Oh, what a beautiful child," cried Mrs. Trent, as she bent over the
baby. "See how peacefully it sleeps, not knowing through what dangers it
has passed, not dreaming it has been saved."
Mrs. Trent had lately lost a dear little baby, so she approached her
husband and said: "Do see how this babe resembles our lost Isabel; and
it seems to be of the same age. Let me take this child, and if its
parents cannot be found, I will be a mother to it."
Mr. Trent smiled pleasantly, nodded his head and said: "Well, well, take
it. Let us not be less sympathetic than these three men, and that
pitying dog."
By this time the poor dog had reached the shore, and stood shaking the
water from his coat; so that the bystanders had to rush aside to escape
a good wetting. Then he began to bark with joy and wag his tail,
springing first at this one, then at that one, as if to express his
thanks for the baby's rescue.
Mr. Trent noticed this, and said: "See how thankful this dog is, and
human beings should never be less thankful." He took some gold coins out
of his pocket, and handed two to each of the three fishermen. They
hesitated, not wishing to take the money. "What we have done was purely
out of love for humanity and without any thought of reward," said they.
Mr. Trent was pleased with them, and said: "Yes, I understand and
realize how very noble it is of you to refuse a reward for your
self-sacrificing services, but I must insist that you take it."
"Well, then," said the younger fisherman, "we will accept the money and
help our poor brothers in the neighboring villages who have suffered so
many losses during this flood."
The dog had now passed through the crowd. His loud barks of joy had
awakened the babe, and it started to cry. Mrs. Trent raised the child in
her arms and kissed it. It looked about as if it were seeking something.
"You are looking for your mother," said she, "but little do we know
where she is. Cry not, my dear, I will be your mother."
She then carried it into her house, while the two fishermen followed
with the cradle. The faithful dog did not wait for an invitation, but
followed of his own accord.
CHAPTER III
THE FOND FOSTER-PARENTS
Mrs. Trent hastily heated some milk, and with a small spoon she fed the
foster-child. Then she dressed it in fine clothes which had belonged to
Isabel, and brought it to Mr. Trent, saying: "See what a beautiful babe
this is, with its golden, curly hair, blue eyes and red cheeks. How
fresh and healthy it looks. But now we have a weighty matter to decide.
We do not know the baby's name and we must call it something. Let us
take your name."
"Very well," said Mr. Trent, "we will adopt him and call him Daniel
Trent. That is a very nice name. As God saved Daniel out of the lion's
den, so He saved this child from a dreadful calamity. Let us hope that
this boy will grow to be as sensible, with as much faith in God, and as
obedient to God's will, as young Daniel was."
"Let us hope it may be so," said his wife, as she cast admiring glances
upon the babe.
The faithful dog who had accompanied her now rested for awhile, as he
saw the babe in comfort and safety. After he had been fed and had
stretched himself awhile before the fire, he suddenly arose, shook
himself well, and rushed out of the house. As soon as he reached the
water's edge, he swam across the river, ran hastily up on the opposite
shore and was soon lost to view.
"Have a care, my dear," said her husband, "I fear you will soon lose
your babe. I am sure the dog has gone in quest of the child's parents
and will return here with them."
Mrs. Trent sighed. "Oh," said she, "I understand how pained those people
must be. For that reason, I would willingly restore the lost babe to its
parents. Although it would be very hard for me to part with it."
After an absence of three days, just as Mr. and Mrs. Trent were seated
at the fireside, the good, faithful dog rushed into their presence and
greeted them by barking and joyfully wagging his tail. But in a few
moments he hung his head, dropped his tail, and looked very sad; and
from that moment on he showed no desire to leave the house.
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