Pulling her clothes, their second mother refusing to part from.
But first one of the women, and then another rebuked them
"Children, hush! to the town she is going, intending to bring you
Plenty of
gingerbread back, which your brother already had order'd,
From the confectioner, when the stork was passing there
lately,
And she'll soon return, with papers prettily gilded."
So at length the children released her; but scarcely could Hermann
Tear her from their embraces and distant-signalling kerchiefs.
-----
VIII. MELPOMENE.
HERMANN AND DOROTHEA.
So tow'rd the sun, now fast sinking to rest, the two walk'd together,
Whilst he veil'd himself deep in clouds which
thunder portended.
Out-of his veil now here, now there, with fiery glances
Beaming over the plain with rays foreboding and lurid.
"May this threatening weather," said Hermann, "not bring to us
shortlyHail and
violent rain, for well does the
harvest now promise."
And they both
rejoiced in the corn so lofty and waving,
Well nigh reaching the heads of the two tall figures that walk'd there.
Then the
maiden spoke to her friendly leader as follows
"Generous youth, to whom I shall owe a kind
destinyshortly,
Shelter and home, when so many poor exiles must weather the tempest,
In the first place tell me all about your good parents,
Whom I intend to serve with all my soul from hence-forward;
Knowing one's master, 'tis easier far to give satisfaction,
By rememb'ring the things which he deems of the highest importance,
And on which he has set his heart with the greatest decision.
Tell me, then, how best I can win your father and mother."
Then the good and
sensible youth made answer as follows
"You are indeed quite right, my kind and excellent
maiden,
To begin by asking about the tastes of my parents!
For I have
hitherto striven in vain to satisfy Father,
When I look'd after the inn, as well as my regular duty,
Working early and late in the field, and tending the vineyard.
Mother indeed was
contented; she knew how to value my efforts;
And she will certainly hold you to be an excellent
maiden,
If you take care of the house, as though the
dwelling your own were.
But my father's
unlike her; he's fond of
outward appearance.
Gentle
maiden, deem me not cold and void of all feeling,
If I
disclose my father's nature to you, who're a stranger.
Yes, such words have never before escaped, I assure von
Out of my mouth, which is little accustom'd to
babble and chatter;
But you have managed to worm all my secrets from out of my bosom.
Well, my
worthy father the graces of life holds in honour,
Wishes for
outward signs of love, as well as of rev'rence,
And would
doubtless be satisfied with an
inferior servant
Who understood this fancy, and hate a better, who did not."
Cheerfully she replied, with gentle
movement increasing
Through the darkening path the speed at which she was walking:
I in truth shall hope to satisfy both of your parents,
For your mother's
character my own nature resembles,
And to
external graces have I from my youth been accustom'd.
Our old neighbours, the French, in their earlier days laid much
stress on
Courteous
demeanour; 'twas common alike to nobles and burghers,
And to peasants, and each enjoin'd it on all his acquaintance.
in the same way, on the side of the Germans, the children were train'd up
Every morning, with plenty of kissing of hands and of curtsies,
To
salute their parents, and always to act with politeness.
All that I have
learnt, and all I have
practised since childhood,
All that comes from my heart,--I will
practise it all with the old man.
But on what terms shall I--I scarcely dare ask such a question,--
Be with yourself, the only son, and
hereafter my master?"
Thus she spoke, and at that moment they came to the peartree.
Down from the skies the moon at her full was shining in glory;
Night had arrived, and the last pale gleam of the
sunset had vanish'd.
So before them were lying, in masses all heap'd up together,
Lights as clear as the day, and shadows of night and of darkness.
And the friendly question was heard by Hermann with pleasure,
Under the shade of the noble tree at the spot which he loved so
Which that day had witness'd his tears at the fate of the exile.