train up both your children and your parishioners, without possessing much learning, and without such endless wear and tear of care and anxiety. I know that I teach a pure faith so far as my ability goes, and moreover, I am averse to all innovations. We must grow old along with those on whom we wish to impress our doctrines. In a well organized government, a man remains in the same situation, but is gradually promoted in his office. I only applied for the vacant Cure in the Odenwald because I feel that I am becoming too old for the dissensions and strife which prevail here, and also because I have not the power to prevent a piece of cruelty at which my heart revolts – but now, let us sing."
He rose, went to the piano, and began the symphony of his favourite melody, and his wife and her young brother sang, with well taught voices, the duet from Titus – "Joy and sorrow let us share."
The two voices, blending harmoniously in this impressive melody, were like friendly hands clasped, or a cordial embrace.
While they were singing, a sound like the cracking of a whip seemed to ascend from the road before the house, but they did not pay much attention to it, mutually agreeing that it must be a delusion on their part. Now, however, that the song was at an end, the sound of a carriage and the loud cracking of a whip were distinctly heard. The pastor's wife opened the window, and putting out her head, into the dark night air, called out "Is any one there?"
"Yes, indeed," answered a gruff voice.
She closed the window quickly, for a current of biting icy air rushed in and made the singer's cheeks all in a glow. Her brother wished to look out also to see who it was, but his anxious sister held him back, as he was so heated by singing. She sent the maid down, and in the mean time, bewailed the possibility of her husband being, perhaps, obliged to go out on such a night.
The maid quickly returned, saying that a sledge had come from Röttmann's godless old wife, who desired that the clergyman should come to her immediately.
"Is Adam here, or a servant?" asked the pastor.
"A servant."
"Tell him to come in, and to take something warm till I am ready."
His wife implored him not to expose his life to danger for the sake of such a wicked old dragon: even by daylight it was dangerous at this time of year to drive to Röttmann's house, and how much worse by night!
"If a doctor must go to attend his patient, in spite of wind and weather, how much more am I bound to do so!" answered the pastor.
The servant came into the room, and the pastor gave him a glass of punch saying, "Is your mistress dangerously ill?"
"No, not so bad exactly – at least she can still scold and curse bravely."
The pastor's wife entreated him afresh, at least to wait till it was daylight, saying she would take the responsibility on herself, if the formidable Röttmännin left the world without spiritual aid; but she seemed well aware that her persuasions would be quite unavailing, for while eagerly entreating him to remain, she was pouring some kirsch into a straw flask, and having fetched a large sheepskin cloak, she placed the flask in one of its pockets. The young farmer wished to go with his brother-in-law, but he declined, saying, as he went out, "Pray stay at home, and go to bed early: if you were to go with me you would probably become hoarse, and I hope we shall sing a great deal together while the holidays last – that beautiful melody of Mozart's will accompany me on the way."
The brother and sister, however, went together to the front of the house, where the pastor got into the sledge; his wife wrapping his feet closely in a large woollen rug, and saying reproachfully to the driver, "Why did not you bring a carriage instead of a sledge?"
"Because the snow is quite deep at our house."
"That is just like you all up there; you never think of how things are elsewhere, or whether the jolting of these frozen and rough roads may not break people's limbs. Drive slow as far as Harzeneck: be very careful, Otto: pray get out and walk up the hill at Otterzwang. But perhaps you had better sit still, for you might catch cold: may Heaven protect you!"
"Good night!" said her husband, and his voice sounded quite hollow from under all his mufflings: the horses trotted off with the sledge, which was heard jolting and rumbling all along the village. The brother and sister then went back into the house.
"I can't tell you how much good it does me to see and to hear your husband again," said the young man to his sister, when they were once more in the sitting-room. "It seems to me, that, as he becomes older, his pure and pious nature becomes more developed – or does this proceed from my being now better able to appreciate him?"
His sister smiled, and said, "You are certainly sincerely attached to my husband, but you cannot fully know his pure soul and pious heart; people may say he is not sufficiently observant of church forms and ceremonies, but he is a church in himself; piety prevails through his example; he needs do no more than simply live here, to exercise a beneficial influence; his gentle disposition, his untiring love and strict integrity, cause all those who witness his daily life to become good and pious: and his style of preaching is just the same; his soul is in every phrase; every word is sound grain; he is well treated by all, and never meets with rudeness or incivility. The painter Schwarzmann, near this, who once stayed a week with us, and saw the respectful behaviour of the rude peasantry towards him, said a good thing on the subject: 'Our Pastor seems to prevail on every man, to think in pure German in his presence, and not in patois.' Formerly it used to distress me very much, to think that such a man was destined to pass his life in this obscure place, among a set of illiterate peasants; but I have since that time learned that the highest cultivation of intellect, which is after all as simple as the Bible itself, is here in its right and fitting place."
It would not be easy to say which was the greatest – the enthusiasm with which the sister spoke, or that of the brother in listening to her; so difficult is it to determine, whether a good heart rejoices most in contemplating perfect felicity, or in possessing it. There is a kind of happiness attainable, not by one only, but by all who are capable of enjoying it, and that is the appreciation and love of a pure and pious heart.
"I know where he is now," continued the sister, fixing her eyes as if on some distant object; "he has passed the great elm, and by this time they are driving on to Harzeneck, where there is always a bitter blast. Wrap yourself well up; I believe you will convert that fierce hard woman at last; I do believe you will, for what is there you cannot do? and I believe you will yet marry Adam to Martina, and then we shall remain happily where we are."
The brother scarcely liked to interrupt his sister's reverie, but at last he asked, "Who is the fierce Röttmännin, and who are Adam and Martina?"
"Sit down here beside me, and I will tell you. I could not sleep if I were to go to bed, till I know that Otto is under shelter."
CHAPTER III.
THE FIERCE RÖTTMÄNNER
"There is a fierce, savage race of men in these mountains, who are almost fiends. Many a strange tale is told of these wild Röttmänner."
"Let me hear them."
"They are great rough boors, and they pride themselves on the stories related for generations back of their prodigious strength, and as they are wealthy, they can do pretty much what they please. The father of the Röttmann, whose wife Otto is gone to-night to visit, is reported to have had so powerful a voice, that once when he shouted to a forester, the man staggered back. His chief pleasure consisted in rolling up into balls, the tin plates used at dinner at different inns. The present Röttmann, when he went to a dance, was in the habit of stuffing into his long pockets a dozen of the heavy iron axes, used for splitting wood, called Speidel by the country people, so that every one got out of his way, and left him ample space to dance. His greatest delight was to dance for twenty-four hours without stopping; this was only amusement to him, and in the pauses between the dances, he drank quart after quart of wine unceasingly. In order to ascertain, however, how much he had drunk, and what he had to pay, he tore off a button each time, first off his red waistcoat, and then off his coat, and redeemed them at the end of the evening from the landlord. His old father, with the stentorian voice, once forbad him to remain all day at a wedding at Wenger, but, on the contrary, enjoined on him to