fiddle. Girls, now-a-days, are so stylish in their ideas, and think of nothing but dress and vanity."
"I have no thoughts of marriage, especially at this moment."
"And you are right: it is not at all necessary – you will never better yourself, believe me. And I know how you have been coddled all your life, and I will take care to manage every thing so that you may almost think your mother is still in the world. Tell me, don't you find the beans good? I learned how to dress them from your mother – they are the very same. She understood everything, from the greatest thing to the least. You shall see how well pleased you will be while we live together – as happy as the day is long."
"But, Franzl," said Lenz, "I don't think I shall be long as I am."
"Really? Have you any one in your eye already? Look there! – People had agreed that Lenz had nothing in his head but his mother and his clocks! I only hope she comes of a good family. As I told you, Kathrine would be a wife for Saturdays and Sundays; she can work both in the house and in the fields; and her spinning is so first-rate, that I do believe she could spin the very straw off the roof. She thinks more of you than any one, and all that you do and say is sacred in her eyes. She always says – 'All that Lenz does is right,' even when it appears otherwise, like his working yesterday;' and she will have a nice little nest egg of money, and a property besides from her mother, which will be an ample provision for one of your children."
"Franzl, there is no question of marriage at all. I have some idea – I have not yet quite made up my mind – of selling, or letting all my property, and going to foreign parts."
Franzl stared at Lenz in dismay, pausing halfway in lifting the spoon out of the plate to her mouth. Lenz continued – "I will take care to provide for you, Franzl – you shall never know want; but I have never yet seen the world, and I should like to do so, and to see and learn something, and perhaps I may improve in my own calling; and who knows – "
"I have no right to give an opinion," interrupted Franzl, "I am only a foolish woman, though every one knows that we Kunslingers are far from being jackasses. What do I know of the world! but this I do know, that I have not served seven and twenty years in this house without some profit. I came to this house when you were only four years old: you were the youngest child, and the pet of all the family. As for your brothers and sisters – now lying under the green turf; – however, don't let us talk about them just now. I have been seven and twenty years with your mother. I cannot say that I am as clever as she was – for who could you find, far or near, of whom we could say that? But we shall see her no more till the world is at an end. And how often she said – 'Franzl,' said she, 'men rush out into the world just as if in other lands, beyond the Rhine or across the seas, Fortune ran about the streets welcoming all comers – "Good morning, Hans, Michel, and Christoph; I am so glad to see you," said Fortune to Hans, Michel, and Christoph.' 'My good Franzl,' said your mother, 'he who can't get on at home, will do just as little elsewhere; and wherever you go you will find plenty of men; and if it was to rain gold they would take good care to snap it up, and not wait for strangers to come and take their share; and after all, what great good fortune do you get by going out into the world? No one can do more than eat, and drink, and sleep. Franzl,' said she, 'my Lenz, too,' – forgive me, but it was your mother said so – I don't say it of myself, – 'my Lenz also has got some silly nonsense in his head about travel; but where could he be better off than at home; and he is not a man to strive with the wide world.' A man must be a pirate like Petrowitsch, an audacious, niggardly, miserly, hardhearted creature to get on in the world. But, to tell the truth, she said nothing of the kind, for she never said an ill word of any one; but I think it and I say it – and she often appealed to my good feelings, saying – 'Franzl, if my Lenz were to leave home, he would give away the shirt off his back if he saw some poor creature in want of one: he is so tenderhearted, that any one who chooses can impose upon him. Franzl,' said she, 'when I am no longer in the world, and this longing for travel again comes across him, Franzl,' said she, 'cling to his coat-tails, and don't let him go;' only, good gracious! I can't possibly do that – how could I? But I must say my say, and I will, for she charged me to look after you. Just look round you: here you have a comfortable house and the best of food – you are respected and loved; and if you go out into the world, who knows anything about you? – who knows that you are Lenz of the Morgenhalde? And when you have no shelter, and must lie all night in the woods, how often would you think – 'Bless me! to think that I had once a house, and seven feather-beds, and plenty of good crockery, and a small cask of good wine in the cellar.' By the bye, shall I fetch you a pint of it now? just wait, I'll bring it in a minute. Those who are sad should drink wine. A thousand times have I heard your mother say – 'Wine cheers the heart, and brings another train of thought.'"
Franzl hurried out of the room, and soon returned from the cellar with a pint of wine. Lenz insisted on her having a glass herself. He poured it out himself for her, and made his glass ring against hers. She only put it to her lips coyly; but when she cleared the table, she did not forget to take the glass of wine with her to the kitchen.
Lenz again worked hard till evening. Whether it was the wine or some other cause, he was very restless at his work, and often on the point of laying aside his tools to go out and visit some one; but again he thought that it was better he should not leave the house, as no doubt some of his kind friends would come to comfort him in his solitude, and he wished they should find him at home. No one came, however, but the Pröbler. He was much attached to Lenz; for he was one of the few who did not turn him into ridicule, and scoff at him for refusing to sell any of his ingenious devices – he only pawned them until he could no longer redeem them; and it was said that the landlord of the "Lion," who carried on a brisk trade as a packer (which in this district means a wholesale dealer and agent), and had an extensive business, made a good profit out of Pröbler, who had pledged his chief works to him.
Lenz always listened with serious attention to old Pröbler, even when he told him that he was constructing no less a piece of mechanism than the perpetuum mobile; and, in order to complete it, there was nothing wanting but forty two diamonds, on which the works must revolve.
On this occasion, however, Pröbler did not come on account of any new discovery, nor to discuss the perpetuum mobile; but when Lenz had taken the usual pinch of snuff from his box, he proposed himself as his negociator, if he wished to marry. He brought forward a whole array of marriageable girls, those of the Doctor included; and concluded by saying – "All houses are open to you – but you are shy. Tell me honestly whither your thoughts turn, and I will take care that you are met half way."
Lenz scarcely made any answer, and Pröbler went away. That he should be supposed to aspire to one of the Doctor's daughters, occupied Lenz for some time. They were three excellent and charming girls. The eldest was very prudent, and considerate beyond her years; and the second played the piano and sung admirably. How often had Lenz stood opposite the house listening to her! Music was, in fact, his sole passion, and his eager longing for it was like that of a thirsty man for a clear spring of water. How would it be if he could get a wife who could play the piano? He would ask her to play over to him all the airs that he put in his musical timepieces, and then they would sound very differently. But after all, a wife from so superior a family would not be very fitting for him; for it was not likely that, when she could play the piano, she could undertake the management of the house, the garden, and the stables, as all clockmakers' wives must do; – besides, he will wait patiently yet awhile. When twilight began to fall, Lenz dressed and went down into the valley. "All houses will be open to you," Pröbler had said. All houses? That was saying a great deal; in fact, so much that it meant nothing. To feel at home in entering a house, its inhabitants must go on calmly with their various pursuits; you must form so entirely a part of the family, that neither look nor gesture asks, – "Why do you come here? – what do you want? – what is the matter?" If you are not quite at home, then the house is not really open to you at any moment; and as Lenz's thoughts travel from house to house in the village for a couple of miles round, he knows he will be joyfully welcomed by all – but he is nowhere really at home; and yet he has
