Household stories from the Land of Hofer. Busk Rachel Harriette
went to work destroying and carrying every thing away, and leaving nothing for those that are to come after, and I was determined to put a stop to it. I am not here to look after one generation, or two, or three, but for the whole lot of you in all the ages of the world, and I must keep things in some order. But now they have given this place up and left me alone, I confess I feel not a little sorry. I used to like to listen to their busy noises, and their songs, and the tramp of their feet. So, if you’ve a mind to make up for it, and come and sit with me for a bit now and then, and sing to me some of the lively songs you have in your world up there, I don’t say I won’t give you a lapful of gold now and then.”
A lapful of gold! what peasant girl would mind sitting for a bit now and then, and singing to a poor lonely old fellow, to be rewarded with a lapful of gold? Certainly not Aennerl! Too delighted to speak, she only beamed assent with her dark, flashing eyes, and clapped her hands and laughed for joy.
“It’s many a day since these walls have echoed a sound like that,” said the dwarf, with deep feeling, and as Aennerl’s smile rested on him, it seemed to wipe away some of the rough dark wrinkles that furrowed his cheeks and relax the tension of his knit brows. “And yet there’s more worth in those echoes than in all the metallic riches which resound to them! Yes, my lass, only come and see the poor old Bergmännl sometimes, and cheer him a bit, and you shall have what you will of his.”
With that he led her gently back into the great vault where she had first seen him working, and, stirring up a heap with his foot, said, —
“There, lass, there’s the Bergmännl’s store; take what you will – it is not the Bergmännl that would say nay to a comely wench like you. Why, if I were younger, and a better-looking fellow, it would not be my lapfuls of gold I should offer you, it would be the whole lot of it – and myself to boot! No, no, I shouldn’t let you go from me again: such a pretty bird does not come on to the snare to be let fly again, I promise you! But I’m old and grey, and my hoary beard is no match for your dainty cheeks. But take what you will, take what you will – only come and cheer up the poor old Bergmännl a bit sometimes.”
Aennerl had not wanted to be told twice. Already she had filled her large pouch and her apron and her kerchief with all the alacrity of greed. So much occupied was she with stowing away the greatest possible amount of the spoil, that she scarcely remembered to thank the Bergmännl, who, however, found pleasure enough in observing the rapturous gestures her good fortune elicited.
“You’ll come again?” said the Cobbold, as he saw her turn to go when she had settled her burden in such a way that its weight should least impede her walking.
“Oh, yes, never fear, I’ll come again! When shall I come?”
“Oh, when you will! Let’s see, to-day’s Saturday, isn’t it? Well, next Saturday, if you like.”
“Till next Saturday, then, good-bye!” said Aennerl, panting only to turn her gold to account; and so full was she of calculation of what she would do with it, that she never noticed the poor old dwarf was coming behind her to light her, and singing, as he went, —
“The weary Bergmännl, old and grey,
Sits alone in a cleft of the earth for aye,
With never a friend to say, ‘Good day.’
For a thousand years, and ten thousand more,
He has guarded earth’s precious silver store,
Keeping count of her treasures of golden ore
By the light of the bright Karfunkelstein,
The only light of the Bergmännlein.
But never a friend to say, ‘Good day,’
As he sits in a cleft of the earth for aye,
Has the lonely Bergmännl, old and grey!”
Aennerl had no time for pity; she was wholly absorbed in the calculation of the grand things she could now buy, the fine dresses she would be able to wear, and in rehearsing the harsh speeches of command with which she would let fling at the girls whom she would take into her service, and who yesterday were the companions-in-labour of orphan Aennerl.
The village was all wrapt in silence and sleep as Aennerl got back with her treasure.
“So late, and so laden! poor child!” said the parish priest, as he came out of a large old house into the lane, and met her. “I have been commending to God the soul of our worthy neighbour Bartl. He was open-handed in his charity, and the poor will miss a friend; he gave us a good example while he lived – Aennerl, my child, bet’ für ihn52.”
Aennerl scarcely returned his greeting, nor found one word of sorrow to lament the loss of the good old Bartl; for one thought had taken possession of her mind at first hearing of his death. Old Bartl had a fine homestead, and one in which all was in good order; but Bartl was alone in the world, there was no heir to enter on his goods: it was well known that he had left all to the hospital, and the place would be sold. What a chance for Aennerl! There was no homestead in the whole Gebiet53 in such good order, or so well worth having, as the Hof of old Bartl.
Aennerl already reckoned it as hers, and in the meantime kept an eye open for any chances of good stock that might come into the market.
Nor were chances wanting. The illness which had carried old Bartl to the grave had been caught at the bedside of the Wilder Jürgl54. A fine young man he had been indeed, but the villagers had not called him “Wild” without reason; and because he had loved all sorts of games, and a gossip in the tavern, and a dance with the village maids more than work, all he had was in confusion. He always said he was young, and he would set all straight by-and-by, there was plenty of time. But death cut him off, young as he was; and his widow found herself next morning alone in the world, with three sturdy boys to provide for, all too young to earn a crust, and all Jürgl’s debts to meet into the bargain. There was no help for it: the three fine cows which were the envy of the village, and which had been her portion at her father’s death, only six months before, must be sold.
Aennerl was the purchaser. Once conscience reproached her with a memory of the days long gone by, when she and that young widow were playmates, when orphan Aennerl had been taken home from her mother’s grave by that same widow’s father, and the two children had grown up in confidence and affection with each other. “Suppose I left her the cows and the money too?” mused Aennerl – but only for a moment. No; had they been any other cows, it might have been different – but just those three which all the village praised! one which had carried off the prize and the garland of roses at the last cow-fight55, and the others were only next in rank. That was a purchase not to be thrown away. Still she was dissatisfied with herself, and inclined to sift her own mind further, when she was distracted by the approach of loud tramping steps, as of one carrying a burden.
It was the Langer Peterl; and a goodly burden he bore, indeed – a burden which was sure to gather round him all the people of Reith, or any other place through which he might pass.
Aennerl laughed and clapped her hands. “Oh, Peterl, you come erwünscht56!” she exclaimed. “Show me what you have got to sell – show me all your pretty things! I want an entirely new rig-out. Make haste! show me the best – the very best – you have brought.”
“Show you the best, indeed!” said the Langer Peterl, scarcely slackening his pace, and not removing the pipe from his mouth; for hitherto he had only known the orphan Aennerl by her not being one of his customers. “Show you the best, indeed, that what you can’t buy you may amuse yourself with a sight of! And when you’ve soiled it all with your greasy fingers, who’ll buy it, d’you suppose? A likely matter, indeed! Show you the best! ha! ha! ha! you don’t come over me like that, though you have got a pair of dark eyes which look through into a fellow’s marrow!”
“Nonsense,
Pray for him.
District.
Wild Georgey.
In some parts of Tirol where the pastures are on steep slopes, or reached by difficult paths – particularly the Zillerthal, on which the scene of the present story borders – it is the custom to decide which of the cattle is fit for the post of leader of the herd by trial of battle. The victor is afterwards marched through the commune to the sound of bells and music, and decked with garlands of flowers.
“Just as I wanted you.”