The Lost Manuscript: A Novel. Gustav Freytag

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СКАЧАТЬ to his companion; but she refused, only supporting herself a little with his proffered hand. But her hand glided down and remained in that of her companion. Thus hand in hand they walked down the last part of the hill into the valley, neither of them speaking a word. When they arrived at the bottom, Ilse gently withdrew her hand, and he released it without a word or pressure; but these few minutes comprised for both a world of happy feelings.

      "Come down, Franz," said Ilse, taking her sleeping brother from the arm of her friend. She bent down to the little one to encourage him, and they went on to join the party, who were waiting for them at the brook.

      The carriage of the Crown-Inspector drew up. The parting greetings of his wife were very verbose, and her representations had mitigated his obstinacy, so that, cap in hand, he made up his mind to take, with tolerable decorum, a bite of the aforementioned sour apple. He approached the literary gentlemen, and asked them to grant him also the pleasure of a visit; and even the utterance of these friendly words had a softening influence on his honest soul. He now held out his hand to them, and receiving a hearty shake he began to think that the strangers were not in reality so bad as might be supposed. The Proprietor accompanied his guests to the carriage, Hans passed the bandbox in, and the two country-gentlemen, as they bade each other good night, watched the starting of the horses with the eyes of connoisseurs.

       CHAPTER VII.

      NEW HOSTILITIES

      Whilst a bright womanly form rose on the horizon between the Professor and the Doctor, fate decreed that a new feud should break out betwixt the two neighboring houses in the city. It happened thus.

      Mr. Hahn had availed himself of the absence of his son to beautify his grounds. His garden ran in a point to the park, and he had bethought him much how this corner might be turned to good account; for the little mound which he had thrown up there, and planted with roses, seemed unsatisfactory. He determined, therefore, to erect a weather-proof summerhouse for such visitors as were not inclined in bad weather to retire to the residence. Everything had been wisely considered before the departure of his son. The following day he caused a slender wooden structure to be erected, with small windows toward the street, and above, instead of a roof, a platform with airy benches, the laths of which projected boldly over the wooden walls and garden palings out into the street. Everything seemed favorable. But when Mr. Hahn, with hearty satisfaction, led his wife up the small side steps on to the platform, and the plump lady, not anticipating anything wrong, sat down on the airy bench, and from thence looked with admiration on the world beneath her, it was soon discovered that the passers-by in the street had to go directly under her, and the sky above was darkened to whoever passed along the fence by the plumage of the great bird that, perched on her high nest, sat with her back turned to the street. Before a quarter of an hour had passed, accordingly, such sharp remarks were heard that the inoffensive Mrs. Hahn was on the point of weeping, and declared to her lord, with unwonted energy, that she would never again allow herself to be treated as a hen, or ascend the platform any more. The family frame of mind was not improved either by the part that Mr. Hummel had taken, for he had stood by the fence of his neighbor's garden during this exhibition of Mrs. Hahn, and had laughed at the vile speeches of the passers-by.

      Mr. Hahn, however, after a short struggle between pride and discretion, listened to the voice of his better self, removed the benches and the platform, and erected over the summer-house a beautiful Chinese roof; and on the projections of this roof he hung small bells, which sounded softly when the wind rose. This idea would have been a decided improvement; but, alas! the wickedness of man gave no rest to this work of art for the urchins in the street diverted themselves by continually keeping the bells in movement by means of long switches. On the first night, therefore, the neighborhood was awakened from its slumbers by a concert of many bells. That night Mr. Hahn dreamed that winter was come, and that a merry party of sleighs were passing round his house; he listened, and indignantly discovered that his own bells had been set in motion. He hastened into the garden in his nightdress, and called out, angrily:

      "Who is there?"

      In an instant the ringing ceased, deep silence and peaceful quiet reigned around. He went up to the garden-house, and looked at his bells, which might be seen swinging under the darkened sky; but roundabout no one was to be discovered. He went back to his bed, but scarcely had he laid himself down when the noise began again, quick and loud, as if pealing for a Christmas party. Again he rushed out of the house, and again the noise ceased; but when he raised himself above the railing and looked around, he saw in the garden opposite the broad figure of Mr. Hummel standing by the hedge, and heard a threatening voice call out:

      "What crazy conduct is this?"

      "It is inexplicable, Mr. Hummel," exclaimed Mr. Hahn, across the street, in a conciliatory tone.

      "Nothing is inexplicable," cried out Mr. Hummel, "but the mischievous insanity of hanging bells in the open air over a public street."

      "I resent your attack," called out Mr. Hahn deeply wounded. "I have a right to hang up what I like on my own property."

      Then there began a conflict of views across the street, weird and frightful. There Hummel's bass, here Hahn's sharp voice, which gradually rose into a counter-tenor; both figures in long night-dresses, divided by the street and railings, but like two heroes of antiquity belaboring one another with strong language. If one failed to perceive the wild effect given to Mr. Hahn by the red color of his night-dress, he yet might be seen towering upon the height near his Chinese temple, raising his arm imposingly across the horizon; but Mr. Hummel stood in the darkness, overshadowed by the wild vine.

      "I will have you before the police court, for disturbing the public peace," cried Mr. Hummel at last, but felt the small hand of his wife at his back, who seized him by his night-dress, turned him round, and gently entreated him not to make a scene.

      "And I will inquire before the court who gave you a right to heap abuse upon me from across the street," called out Mr. Hahn, likewise in the act of retiring, for amidst the noise of the fight he had now and then heard the soft words, "Come back, Hahn," and seen his wife behind him wringing her hands. But he was not in a disposition to abandon the field of battle.

      "A light and ladder here," he exclaimed, "I will unearth this shameful trick."

      The ladder and lanterns speedily made their appearance, brought by the frightened maid-servant. Mr. Hahn mounted up to his bells, and sought long in vain; at last he discovered that some one had contrived to unite the separate bells by a plait of horse-hair and thus had rung them from the outside by a string.

      This wild night was followed by a gloomy morn.

      "Go to the fellow across the street, Gabriel," said Mr. Hummel, "and ask if, for the sake of peace, he is willing to take down his bells at once. I require my sleep, and I will not suffer that a rabble of thieves shall be allured to my house, make inroads upon the fence, steal my plums, and break into my factory. This man, by his ringing, calls together all the rogues of the neighborhood."

      Gabriel replied: "I will go over there for the sake of peace; but only if I may say with civility what I think fit."

      "With civility?" repeated Hummel, winking slyly at his confidant. "You do not understand your own interest. So fine an opportunity of making yourself important will not occur soon again, and it would be a pity to let it escape you. But I foresee, Gabriel, that, civil or not, we shall be unable to deal with the man. He's malicious and obstinate and bitter. He is a bulldog, Gabriel. There, you have his character."

      Gabriel proceeded to the house of poor Mr. Hahn, who sat, still suffering, before his untasted breakfast, and looked suspiciously at the inmate of the hostile house.

      "I come only to inquire," began Gabriel, adroitly, "whether, perhaps, you may have received intelligence through your СКАЧАТЬ