The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 11

"Summa cum laude!" seemed to shine in the faces of everyone they met; it was really very curious.

Professor Fackler had taken his leave with good wishes and hand-shakings and Eugenia and Cornelia had returned dainty little courtesies to the shy and blushing student's awkward bow; – there was Kröppel Street again and its inhabitants had already taken off their Sunday raiment and put on their workday clothes.

They were not working however; there was great excitement in Kröppel Street; old and young ran hither and thither shouting and gesticulating.

"Hullo, what's the matter now?" exclaimed Uncle Grünebaum. "What's happened? What's the matter, Master Schwenckkettel?"

"He's got it! It's got him!" was the answer.

"The devil! Who's got it? What's got him?"

"The Jew! Freudenstein! He's lying on his back and gasping – "

The women clasped their hands. Hans Unwirrsch stood rigid, and turned pale, but Uncle Grünebaum said, phlegmatically:

"The devil takes one and all, odd and even! Don't hurry, Hans, – well, I declare, he's off already!"

Hans ran at full speed toward the junk-dealer's shop which, with its door wide open, was besieged by a dense throng of people. They looked over one another's shoulders and although no one saw anything extraordinary in the dark space yet no one would have moved from the spot where he stood; Kröppel Street was too fond of excitements like this that cost nothing.

It was only with difficulty that Hans, in his bewilderment, was able to make a path for himself. At last he stood in the dusk of the shop, feeling as if he were shut out forever from the fresh, open air of spring. The faces of the people on the steps of the entrance stared down at him as through a mist; just as he was about to lay his trembling hand on the handle of the door that led to the back room it was opened.

The doctor came out and straightened his spectacles.

"Ah, it's you, Unwirrsch," he said. "He's in a bad way in there. Apoplexia spasmodica. Gastric, convulsive apoplexy. Everything possible has been done for the moment. I'll look in again in an hour. A pleasant day to you, sir!"

Hans Unwirrsch did not return the doctor's last greeting, which seemed a little out of keeping with the present circumstances. He summoned all his energy and stepped into the back room which was now transformed into a death chamber. A penetrating odor of spirits of ammonia met him, the sick man on his bed in the corner already had the rattle in his throat; the Rabbi had come, sat at the head of the bed and murmured Hebrew prayers in which, from time to time, the voice of old Esther on the other side of the bed, joined.

At the foot stood Moses, motionless. He was leaning on the bed-posts, looking at the patient. Not a muscle of his face twitched, his eyes showed no sign of tears, his lips were firmly closed.

He turned as Hans stepped up to him and laid his cold right hand in that of his friend; then he turned his face away again at once and gazed once more at his sick father. He seemed to have grown a head taller since his examination, the expression in his eyes was indescribable, – to use a dreadful simile, it was as if the angel of death were waiting for the last grain of sand to fall; – Moses Freudenstein had gradually grown to be a handsome youth.

"Oh, God, Moses, speak! How did it happen? How did it happen so all of a sudden?" whispered Hans.

"Who can tell!" said Moses, just as softly. "Two hours ago we were sitting here quietly together and – and – he showed me all sorts of papers that we were putting in order, – we have had various things to put in order since yesterday – suddenly he groaned and fell off his chair and now – there he lies. The doctor says he will never get up again."

"Oh, how dreadful! I knocked at your door so often yesterday; why didn't you want to let anyone in?"

"He didn't want to; he always was peculiar. He had made up his mind that on the day when I should have passed my examination successfully he would close his shop for ever. He did not want to have any witness, anyone to disturb us when he showed me his secret chests and drawers. He was a peculiar man and now his life will close with the shop, – who would have thought it, who, indeed?"

The voice in which these words were spoken was dull and mournful; but in Moses' eyes glittered something quite different from sorrow or mourning. A secret gratification lay in them, a concealed triumph, the certainty of a happiness which had suddenly revealed itself, which in such plenitude he had not even dared to hope for and which for the moment had still to be hidden under the dark cloak of decorous grief.

Let us see how the father and son had spent the time since the day before and we shall be able to explain this glance which Moses Freudenstein cast on his dying father.

In as great a state of excitement as the relatives of Hans Unwirrsch, Master Samuel had awaited his son's return. He wandered restlessly about the house and began to burrow among his effects, to open and shut chests, to rummage through the most forgotten corners, as if he wanted to hold a final review of his possessions and his thousand different articles of trade. At the same time he talked to himself unceasingly and although not a drop of spirituous liquor ever crossed his lips, yet at the time when Uncle Grünebaum was leaning firmly against the wall opposite the school-house, Samuel Freudenstein seemed to be more intoxicated than he. The great resolve which he had carried in his heart for so long and which was now about to be put into execution affected him like strong drink. Toward eleven o'clock he drove the housekeeper Esther out of the back room and bolted even that door. He now brought to light mysterious keys, opened mysterious drawers in his writing-table, creakingly unlocked a mysterious door in a mysterious closet. There was a jingling as of gold and silver, a rustling as of government bonds and other negotiable paper, and among the jingling and the rustling Father Samuel's voice murmured:

"He was born in a dark corner, he will long for the light; he has sat in a gloomy house, he will dwell in a palace. They have mocked him and beaten him, he will repay them according to the law; an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth! He is a good son and he has learnt what a man needs in order to rise. He has not been impatient, he has sat quietly over his books here at this table. He has done his work and I have done mine. He shall find me here at this table where he has sat quietly throughout his young life. Now he will go out into life, and I will stay here; but my eyes will follow him on his way and he will give me great joy. I have always followed him with my eyes, he is a good son. Now he has grown to be a man and his father will have nothing more in secret from him. Six hundred – seven hundred – two thousand – a good son – may the God of our fathers bless him and his children and his children's children."

The screaming, blessings and beseechings of Esther outside and a knocking at the door drove the old man from his calculations and thoughts onto his feet.

"God of Abraham, he is here!"

With a trembling hand he pushed back the bolt and clasped his son, who was just entering, in his arms.

"Here he is! Here he is! My son, the son of my wife! Well, Moses, speak, how did it go?"

Moses' face showed not a sign of change, he appeared cold, as always, and calmly he held out his certificate to his father.

"I knew that they would have to write what they have written. They probably made faces over it but they had to give me the first place. Come now! Don't be ridiculous, Father; don't go mad, Esther. Oh say, how they would like to have put that sentimental Hans over there ahead of me, but they couldn't manage it; I knew it. By all the silly gods, Father, what have you been doing this morning? Gold? Gold and no end of it? What's that? What does that mean? Great God, where – "

He broke off and bent over the table. That was a sight that entirely destroyed his accustomed self-control, at least for a time.

"Yours! Yours! It is all yours!" cried his father. "I told you that I would do my part if you did yours at the table there. That is not all! Here! Here!"

The old man had rushed to the closet again and threw a few more jingling bags on the black floor and a few more bundles of securities on the table. His eyes glowed as with fever.

"You are equipped and armed, now raise your head. Eat when you are hungry and reach out for everything that you desire. They will bring it to you if you are wise; you will become a great man among the strangers! Be wise on your way! Don't stand still, don't stand still, don't stand still!"

The hanging globe in the house opposite reflected Samuel Freudenstein as he hurried out, tore the Westphalian body-servant from his hook and buried him in the depths of the shop; thus he closed his business for ever, – the lackey had served as a sign for many things which had really nothing to do with junk-dealing; it was not to be regretted that he disappeared from Kröppel Street.

If only the glass globe of Master Anton Unwirrsch could have reflected the figure of Moses Freudenstein as, during his father's short absence he stood with folded arms in front of the richly burdened table! He was pale and his lips twitched, he passed his finger tips over several of the rows of gold-pieces and at their touch a slight tremor ran through his body. A thousand thoughts chased one another through his brain with the rapidity of lightning, but not one of them rose from his heart; he did not think of the toil, the care, the – love that clung to this piled-up wealth. He thought only of what his own attitude must be to these riches which were suddenly thrust before him, of the changed existence that would begin from this moment – for him. His cold heart beat so violently that it almost caused him physical pain. It was an evil moment in which Samuel Freudenstein announced to his son that he was rich and that the latter would one day be so. From that moment a thousand dark threads stretched out into the future; whatever was dark in Moses' soul became still darker from this moment; nothing became lighter; egoism raised its head menacingly and stretched out hungry arms, like those of an octopus, to grasp the world.

In this headlong, wildly increasing tumult of thoughts his father's existence no longer counted for anything, it was rubbed out as if it had never been. Moses Freudenstein thought only of himself and when his father's step sounded again behind him he started and clenched his teeth.

Samuel Freudenstein had bolted the door; he had closed the shop and thus also locked out the wide, lovely spring world, the blue sky, the beautiful sun – woe to him!

He had nothing to do with the joyful sounds, the shining colors of life, they would only have been in his way; he wanted to celebrate a triumph in which he did not need them – woe to him! The gray dusk which fell through the dirty panes of the back room sufficed perfectly for him to lay his secret account book before his son and show him in what way the wealth that he had spread out before him had been acquired.

The sun went down, but before taking his farewell, he flooded the world with unequaled beauty; he smiled a parting greeting through every window that he could reach; but he could not say farewell to poor Samuel Freudenstein – woe to him!

Night came on and Esther carried the lighted lamp into the little back room. The children were put to bed, the night watchman came; the older people too disappeared from the benches before their front doors. Everyone carried his cares to bed; but Samuel and Moses Freudenstein counted and figured on, and it was not until the gray dawn that the latter sank into a restless, feverish slumber only to start up again almost as soon as he had closed his eyes. He did not wake like Hans Unwirrsch; he woke with a cry of fear, stretched his hands out and crooked his fingers as if something infinitely precious were being torn from him, as if he were striving in deadly fear to hold it tight. He sat upright in bed and stared about him, pressed his hands to his forehead and then jumped up. Hastily he drew on his clothes and went down into the back room where his father still lay asleep restlessly murmuring disconnected sentences. The son stood before his father's bed and his gaze wandered from his father's face to the empty table which had lately been so richly burdened.

Oh, the hunger, the terrible hunger, by which Moses Freudenstein was tormented, was consumed! Between the feast and the sufferer there stood a superfluous something, the life of an old man. The son of this old man gnashed his teeth – woe to you too, Moses Freudenstein!

How did the hour-glass from the pulpit of the Christian church come to be in the shop? It was there and it stood beside the bed of the old man on a shelf against the wall. In former years it had often served Moses and Hans as a plaything and they had watched the sand ran through with delight; it was long now since any hand had touched it, the spiders had spun their webs about it; it was a useless thing. What notion could suddenly have shot into the mind of the junk-dealer's son to make him turn the hour-glass over now? A frightened spider scuttled up the wall; the sand began to trickle down again and Samuel Freudenstein woke with a start. He drew the bed-clothes close about him and felt under his pillow for his bunch of keys; then he asked almost in a screech:

"What do you want, Moses? Is it you? What do you want? It's still night!"

"It's bright daylight. Have you forgotten, Father, that we did not finish yesterday? It is bright daylight; and you still have so much to say to me."

The father glanced at the son, and then looked at him again. Then his eye fell on the hour-glass.

"Why did you turn the glass over? Why do you wake me before it is day?"

"Oh come! You know, Father, that time is precious and runs away like sand. Will you get up?"

The old man turned uneasily in his bed several times, and glanced ever anew at his son, now searchingly, now fearfully, now angrily.

Moses had turned away and went to the writing table near the window; the old man sat upright and drew up his knees. The sand in the glass trickled down – down, and the old man's eyes became more and more fixed. Had he had a dream during his short sleep and was now considering whether this dream might not be truth; who could say? Had it become clear to him all of a sudden that in giving his child the treasure that he had concealed so long and so well he was giving him only darkness and ruin? What a life he had led in order to be able to celebrate that hour of triumph yesterday! Woe to him!

The son threw shifty glances over his shoulder at his father.

"What is the matter, Father? Are you not well?"

"Quite well, Moses, quite well. Be quiet, I will get up. Do not be angry. Be quiet – that your days may be long upon earth."

He rose and dressed. Esther came with breakfast but she almost let the tray fall when she looked into her old master's face.

"God of Israel! What is the matter, Freudenstein?"

"Nothing, nothing! Be quiet, Esther; it will pass."

He sat in his chair all morning without moving. His mouth alone moved, but only once did an audible word cross his lips; he wanted them to open the door and the shutters again.

"Why should Esther unlock the house?" asked Moses. "We want to finish our business of yesterday first, and don't need people gaping and listening."

"Be quiet, you are right, my son. It is well, Esther. Take the keys from under my pillow, Moses."

The sand in the hour-glass had run through again; Moses Freudenstein himself had unlocked the closet once more and was looking through the papers. The old man did not move, but he followed his son's every movement with his eyes and now and then started and shivered. Esther had put an old cover about his shoulders; he was like a child that must let everything be done for it.

Moses took out another bag of money; it slipped from his hands and fell ringing on the floor, scattering part of its contents over the room. With the ringing and jingling of the money a scream mingled that froze one's blood.

"Apoplexia spasmodica!" said the doctor fifteen minutes later. "Hm, hm – an unusual case in a man of his constitution!"