However, he never mentioned it to Cousin George, for whom he felt the greatest respect on account of his expectations from him, and whose strong language dismayed him.
At last my wife found that Gredel was staying too long away from home; the people of the village would talk about it; so one evening I went to see George, to ask him what he had learned about Heitz"s son.
It was after supper. Gredel, seeing me come in, slipped out into the kitchen, and my cousin said to me frankly: "Listen, Christian: here is the matter in two words--Gredel loves another."
"Whom?"
"Jean Baptiste Werner."
"Father Heitz"s clerk? the son of the woodward Werner, who has never had anything but potatoes to eat? Is she in love with him? Let the wretch come--let him come and ask her! I"ll kick him down the stairs!
And Gredel to grieve me so? Oh! I should never have believed it of her!"
I could have cried.
"Come, Christian," said my cousin, "you must be reasonable."
"Reasonable! she deserves to have her neck wrung!"
I was in a fury; I wanted to lay hold on her. Happily, she had gone into the garden, and George held me back. He obliged me to sit down again, and said: "What is Mathias Heitz? a fat fool who knows nothing but how to play at cards and drink. He was put to college at Phalsbourg, at M. Verrot"s, like all the other respectable young men in the district; but he now drives about in a char-a-banc in a flowered waistcoat, with jingling seals: he could not possibly earn a couple of pence--and the old man would like to be rid of him by marrying him. I have obtained information about him. He may come in for from fifteen to twenty thousand francs some day; but what are fifteen thousand francs for an a.s.s? He will eat them, he will drink them--perhaps he has already swallowed half--and if there is a family, what are fifteen or even twenty thousand francs between five or six children? Formerly, when girls used to have an outfit for a marriage portion, and the eldest son succeeded his father, things went on pretty well. It did not want much talent to carry on a well-established business, or to follow up a trade from father to son. But at the present day, mother-wit and good sense stand in the foremost rank. Grandfather Heitz was an industrious man; he made money; but Father Mathias has never added a sou to his property, and the son has not a grain of good sense."
"But the other fellow--why he has nothing at all."
"The other, Jean Baptiste Werner, is a good man, who has done his duty by Father Heitz; he knows everything, manages everything, takes in orders, makes all the arrangements for the carriage of stone by carts or by railway. Heitz puts the money into his pocket, and Werner has all the work, for want of a little capital to set himself up in business. He has seen foreign service. I have seen his certificates of character in Africa, in Mexico: they are excellent. If I were in your place, I would give Gredel to him."
"Never!" cried I, thumping upon the table; "I had rather drown her."
Half the wine-gla.s.ses were shattered on the floor; but my cousin was not angry.
"Well, Christian," said he, "you are wrong. Think it over. Gredel will remain here. I will answer for her. You must not take her away at present. You would be very likely to ill-treat her, and then you would repent of it."
"Let her stay as long as you like!" said I, taking up my hat; "let her never darken my doors again." And I rushed out.
Never in my life had I been so angry and so grieved. At home I did not even dare to say what I had learned; but Jacob suspected it, and one day, as Werner was stopping in front of the mill, he shook his pitchfork at him, shouting: "Come on!" But Werner pretended not to hear him, and went on his way.
I was at last, however, obliged to tell my wife the whole matter. At first she was near fainting; but she soon recovered, and said to me: "Well, if Gredel won"t have young Mathias, we shall keep our hundred louis, and we shall have no need to hire a new servant. I should prefer that, for one cannot trust strange servants in a house."
"Yes; but how can we declare to Mathias Heitz that Gredel refuses his son?"
"Oh, don"t trouble yourself, Christian," said she; "leave me alone, and don"t let us quarrel with Cousin George: that"s the princ.i.p.al thing. I will say that Gredel is too young to be married; that is the proper thing to say, and n.o.body can answer that."
Catherine quieted me in this way. But this business was still racking my brain, when extraordinary things came to pa.s.s, which we were far from expecting, and which were to turn our hair gray, and that of many others with us.
CHAPTER III
One morning the secretary of the sous-prefet wrote to me to come to Sarrebourg. From time to time we used to receive orders, as magistrates, to go and give an account at the sous-prefecture of what was going on in our district.
I said to myself, immediately on receiving this letter from Secretary Gerard, that it was something about our Agricultural Society, which had not yet delivered the prizes gained by the ducks and the geese a few weeks before.
It was true that the Paris newspapers had for three days past been discussing a Prince of Hohenzollern, who had just been named King of Spain; but what could that signify to us at Rothalp, Illingen, Droulingen, and Henridorf, whether the King of Spain was called Hohenzollern or by any other name?
In my opinion, it could not be about that affair that Monsieur le Sous-prefet wanted to talk to us, but about the old or a new Agricultural Society, or something at least which concerned us in particular. The idea of the parish road and the bells came also into my mind; perhaps that was the object we were sent for.
At last I took up my staff and started for Sarrebourg.
Arriving there, I found the whole length of the princ.i.p.al street crowded with mayors, police-inspectors, and _juges-de-paix_.* Mother Adler"s inn and all the little public-houses were so full that they could not have held another customer.
* Magistrates.
Then I said to myself, no doubt something quite new is in the wind: as, for instance; a fete like that when her Majesty the Empress and the Prince Imperial, three years before, pa.s.sed through Nancy to celebrate the union of Lorraine with France. Thereupon I went to the sous-prefecture, where I found already several mayors of the neighborhood talking at the door. They were discussing the price of corn, the high price of cattle food; they were called in one after another.
In half an hour my turn came; Monsieur Christian Weber"s name was called, and I entered with my hat in my hand.
Monsieur le Sous-prefet with his secretary Gerard, with his pen stuck behind his ear, were seated there: the secretary began to mend his pen; and Monsieur le Sous-prefet asked me what was going on in my part of the country?
"In our country, Monsieur le Sous-prefet? why, nothing at all. There is a great drought; no rain has fallen for six weeks; the potatoes are very small, and..."
"I don"t mean that, Monsieur le Maire: what do they think of the Prince Hohenzollern and the Crown of Spain?"
On hearing this I scratched my head, saying to myself, "What will you answer to that now? What must you say?"
Then Monsieur le Sous-prefet asked: "What is the spirit of your population?"
The spirit of our population? How could I get out of that?
"You see, Monsieur le Sous-prefet, in our villages the people are no scholars; they don"t read the papers."
"But tell me, what do they think of the war?"
"What war?"
"If, now, we should have war with Germany, would those people be satisfied?"
Then I began to catch a glimpse of his meaning, and I said: "You know, Monsieur le Sous-prefet, that we have voted in the Plebiscite to have peace, because everybody likes trade and business and quietness at home; we only want to have work and..."
"Of course, of course, that is plain enough; we all want peace: his Majesty the Emperor, and her Majesty the Empress, and everybody love peace! But if we are attacked: if Count Bismarck and the King of Prussia attack us?"
"Then, Monsieur le Sous-prefet, we shall be obliged to defend ourselves in the best way we can; by all sorts of means, with pitchforks, with sticks..."
"Put that down, Monsieur Gerard, write down those words. You are right, Monsieur le Maire: I felt sure of you beforehand," said Monsieur le Sous-prefet, shaking hands with me: "You are a worthy man."
Tears came into my eyes. He came with me to the door, saying: "The determination of your people is admirable; tell them so: tell them that we wish for peace; that our only thought is for peace; that his Majesty and their excellencies the Ministers want nothing but peace; but that France cannot endure the insults of an ambitious power. Communicate your own ardor to the village of Rothalp. Good, very good. _Au revoir_, Monsieur le Maire, farewell."
Then I went out, much astonished; another mayor took my place, and I thought, "What! does that Bismarck mean to attack us! Oh, the villain!"