Joseph in the Snow, and The Clockmaker. In Three Volumes. Vol. I.. Auerbach Berthold

is saved, but Adam only said, "The next time that you go through the meadow, don't wear a scarlet handkerchief on your head."

      Adam was covered with blood, and Martina asked, "For heaven's sake tell me, have you been hurt by the bull?"

      "Oh, pray make no fuss, it is nothing; the bull was bleeding at the mouth, and so he sprinkled me with blood. Go now, and fetch the water;" so saying, he turned away, and went to a pond to wash off the blood.

      Not till she had reached the well did Martina become fully alive to the danger she had escaped. She felt the deadly peril she had been in, and from which Adam had rescued her. As she wept, admiration mingled with her tears, and heartfelt gratitude to the bold and intrepid young man. At dinner-time she heard his mother say to Adam, "You are the most silly, good-for-nothing creature in the world, to go and risk your life, to save that of a stupid maid."

      "I'll never do it again," answered Adam.

      "I rather think," said his father, with a smile, "that you are not likely to do such a thing twice, as to hold down a bull by the horns and yet to escape alive; it's a pity no one saw you, for it is a feat the whole neighbourhood would have talked about."

      From this period Adam always noticed Martina by a kind nod, but never spoke a single word to her. He seemed only to be pleased, that she had given him an opportunity to perform a genuine Röttmann's exploit.

      Shortly after, Martina was again washing at the brook, when Adam once more stood before her: "Are you quite recovered from your fright?" said he.

      "No; my limbs still tremble from the terrible fear I felt, but as long as I live I will thank you for having – "

      "Pray don't talk about it. The animal was not vicious – no animal is naturally so, neither horse nor ox, if not persecuted when young by being foolishly hunted and cruelly goaded, and thus made bad-tempered – then, at last, they are so with a vengeance – but – tell me – don't you know all, and – don't you like me as much as I like you?"

      He could not say much, but there was infinite tenderness in his eyes, and subdued but deep love, as he looked at Martina and laid his hand on her shoulder; and no man would have believed that the rough stalwart Adam could have been so loving and gentle.

      They were standing silently under the spreading beech, and Martina gazing up at the bright rays of sunshine darting through the leaves —

      "Look how beautiful this tree is!" said she.

      "A very useless one," said Adam; "a vast number of branches, but a poor trunk."

      "I was not thinking of that, but see how it shines and glitters all green and gold."

      "You are right; it is beautiful," said Adam, and his glance was unusually mild as the rays of the sun sportively flickered on his stern embrowned features.

      For the first time it seemed to occur to him, that a tree could be looked at in any other light than that of its marketable value.

      And as often as Martina thought of the bright sunshine she had seen through the foliage of the beech, she felt as if these sunny rays were still shining on her, and were never to cease shining.

      Adam, seizing Martina's hand, said, as if he intended a solemn asseveration: —

      "This tree shall never be cut down; it shall never be felled by me till our wedding; or rather, it shall always remain where it is, and listen to the merry music of our bridal procession as it passes along. Martina, give me something; have you nothing you could give me?"

      "I am poor and have nothing to give away."

      "I see something I should like to have – will you give it to me?"

      "Yes! what is it? whatever you like."

      "I see your name embroidered on your neckerchief; tear out the piece and give it to me."

      "Gladly!" she turned away, and tore out the piece of muslin where her name was marked, and gave it to him.

      "I give you nothing," said he, "but look round, so far as you can see, all, all, is yours."

      At this speech, proving how rich Adam was, and how poor Martina, she felt very sorrowful, but Adam still grasped her hand, so every other feeling was absorbed in love for him.

      The love which had taken possession of both, was an overpowering, headlong, wild passion and quickly succeeded by grief and misery.

      For the first time in his life, Adam was sent with a raft, down the Rhine, to Holland, and during his absence Martina was driven out of the house in shame and disgrace…

      These were the joyous and sorrowful events of the past, that once more floated before the eyes of Martina in her garret.

      She hid her face in the pillow – the cocks in the village began to crow, as it was now past midnight.

      "That is the new-fashioned bird crowing, that Häspele lately bought. How hoarse and loud the long-legged creature crows! Our own home birds have a much more cheerful cry: but Häspele is an excellent man, and so kind and good to my boy; – he meant to do me a kindness when he once said to me, 'Martina, in my eyes you are a widow, and a worthy woman' – Yes, said I, but my husband is not dead; I grieve that you like me, as I cannot marry you – no! such a thought is far from my heart."

      Martina could not close her eyes, but lay anxiously awaiting the dawn of day – sometimes sleep seemed about to take compassion on her, but scarcely had she closed her eyes, than she started up again – she thought she heard the voice of Adam's mother, the stormy Röttmännin, and saw her sharp sarcastic face, and Martina whispered sadly to herself: – "Oh! when will it be light!"

      CHAPTER II.

      A DUET INTERRUPTED, AND RESUMED

      At the very same hour that the child in the attic woke up and was so restless, two candles and a lamp were burning in the sitting-room of the parsonage, and three people were seated comfortably at a round table: these were the clergyman, his wife, and her brother, a young farmer. The room was pleasantly warm, and in the pauses of the conversation, the hissing of some apples roasting on the stove was heard, and the kettle, on the top of the stove, put in its word too, as if it wished to say that it had good material ready for a glass of hot punch. The worthy pastor, who seldom smoked, nevertheless possessed the talent of enjoying his pipe with any guest who arrived; this did not, however, make him neglect his snuff-box, and whenever he took a pinch himself, he offered one to his brother-in-law, who invariably refused it politely. The pastor gazed with evident satisfaction at his brother-in-law; and his wife occasionally looked up from her work – a gift to her husband for the Christmas of the ensuing day – and glanced tenderly at her brother.

      "A famous idea of yours," repeated the pastor, while his delicate face, his well formed lips, bright blue eyes, and lofty intellectual forehead, assumed an expression of even greater benevolence than usual – "a famous idea indeed, to get leave of absence to spend the holidays with us, but," added he, smiling and glancing at the gun leaning against the wall in a corner, "your fire-arms will not profit you much here, unless, indeed, you have the good fortune to hit the wolf, who has been lately seen prowling about in the wood."

      "I have neither come to visit you solely from the wish to see you, nor with the idea of sport," answered the young farmer, in a deep and manly voice, "my chief motive is to persuade you, my dear brother-in-law, to withdraw your application for the pastorate in the Odenwald, and to delay moving until there is a vacant Cure either near the capital, or in it. My uncle Zettler, who is now Consistorial President, has promised to secure the first vacant charge for you."

      "Impossible! Both Lina and I should certainly have liked to be in the vicinity of our parents, and I have often an eager thirst for good music, but I am a bad hand at the new orthodoxy of the day, and the eager discussions as to whether a sermon is according to strict church principles. Among my fellow-workers in the Church, there is an incessant feverish anxiety for the souls of their mutual parishioners, inducing them to exchange religious exhortations, which appears to me a very vainglorious system. It is with that, like education; the less teaching parents bestow on their children, the more incessantly they talk on the subject. Live a good life, and