Chapter 73
Home, sweet home! At home in a beloved mother's house. A man visits many gay places where people enjoy themselves: finds himself at times in glorious palaces; builds himself a nest, and rears a house of his own:--but even then some sweet enchantment overcomes his heart when he steps over the threshold of that quiet dwelling where a loving mother's guardian hand has protected every souvenir of his childhood,--so that he finds everything as he left it long ago, and sees and feels that, while he has lived through the changing events of a period in his life, that loving heart has still clung to that last moment, and that the intervening time has been but as the eternal remembrance of one hour spent within those walls.
There are his childhood's toys piled up; he would love to sit down once more among them, and play with them: there are the books that delighted his childhood's days; he would love to read them anew, and learn again what he had long forgotten, what was in those days such great knowledge.
Lorand spent a happy week at home, in the course of which Mrs. Fromm took f.a.n.n.y back to Pressburg.
As Desiderius had asked for f.a.n.n.y's hand, it was only proper that he should take his bride away from her parents' house.
One week later the whole aronffy family started to fetch the bride; only Desiderius' mother remained at home.
In the little house in Prince's Avenue the same old faces all awaited them, only they were ten years older. Old Marton hastened, as erstwhile, to open the carriage door; only his moving crest was as white as that of a c.o.c.katoo. Father Fromm, too, was waiting at the door, but could no longer run to meet his guests, for his left arm and leg were paralyzed: he leaned upon a long bony young man, who had spent much pains in trying to twist into a moustache by the aid of cunning unguents the few hairs on his upper lip, that would not under any circ.u.mstances consent to grow. It was easy to recognize Henrik in the young fellow who would have loved so much to smile, only that cursed waxed moustache would not allow his mouth to open very far.
"Welcome, welcome," sounded from all sides. Father Fromm opened his arms to receive the grandmother: Henrik leaped on to Desiderius' neck, while old Marton slouched up to Lorand, and, nudging him with his elbows, said with a humorous smile, "Well, no harm came of it, you see."
"No, old fellow. And I have to thank this good stick for it," said Lorand, producing from under his coat Marton's walking stick, for which he had had made a beautiful silver handle in place of the previous dog's-foot.
The old fellow was beside himself with delight that they thought so much of his relics.
"Is it true," he asked, "that you fought two highwaymen with this stick?
Master Desiderius wrote to say so."
"No, only one."
"And you knocked him down?"
"It was impossible for he ran away. Now I have done my walking, and give back the stick with thanks."
But it was not the silver handle that delighted Marton so. He took the returned stick into the shop, like some trophy, and related to the a.s.sistants, how Master Lorand had, with that alone, knocked down three highwaymen. He would not have
Old Grandmother Fromm, too, was still alive and counted it a great triumph that she had just finished the hundredth pair of stockings for f.a.n.n.y's trousseau.
And last, but not least, f.a.n.n.y, even more beautiful, even more amiable!--as if she had not seen Desiderius and his grandmother for an eternity!
"Well, you will be our daughter!"
And they all loved Desiderius so.
"What a handsome man he has grown," complimented Grandmother Fromm.
"What a good fellow!"--remarked Mother Fromm.
"What a clever fellow! How learned!" was Father Fromm's encomium.
"And what a muscular rascal!" said Henrik, overcome with astonishment that another boy too had grown as large as he. "Do you remember how one evening you threw me on to the bed? How angry I was with you then!"
"Do you remember how the first evening you put away the cake for Henrik?" said grandmamma. "How you blushed then!"
"Do you remember," interrupted Father Fromm, "the first time you addressed me in German? How I laughed at you then!"
"Well, and do you remember me?" said f.a.n.n.y playfully, putting her hand on her fiance's arm.
"When first you kissed me here," retorted Desiderius, looking into her beaming eyes.
"How you feared me then!"
"Well, and do you remember," said the young fellow in a voice void of feeling, "when I stood resting against the doorpost, and you came to drag my secret out of me. How I loved you then!"
Lorand stepped up to them, and laying his hands on their shoulders, said with a sigh:
"Forgive me for standing so long in your path!"
At that everyone's eyes filled with tears, everyone knew why.
Father Fromm, deeply moved, exclaimed:
"How happy I am,--my G.o.d!" and then as if he considered his happiness too great, he turned to Henrik, "if only you were otherwise! but look, my dear boy: nothing has come of him! _fuit negligens_. If he too had learned, he would already be an '_archivarius_!' That is what I wanted to make of him. What a fine t.i.tle! An '_archivarius_!' But what has become of him? An '_asinus_!' _Quantus asinus_! I ought to have made a baker of him. He did not wish to be other, the fool: the '_perversus h.o.m.o_.' Now he is nothing but a '_pistor_.'"
At this grievous charge poor Henrik would have longed to sink into the earth for very shame, a longing which would have met with opposition, not only from the ground-floor inhabitants, but also from the a.s.sistants working in the underground cellars.
Lorand took Henrik's part.
"Never mind, Henrik. At any rate in both families there is a good-for-nothing who can do nothing except produce bread: I am the peasant, you the baker: I thresh the wheat, you bake bread of it: let the high and mighty feast on their pride."
Then the common good-humor of the high and mighty put a good tone on the conversation. Father Fromm actually made peace though slowly with fate, and agreed that it was just as well Henrik could continue his father's business. He might find some respite in the fact that at least his second child would become a "lady."
Desiderius had a joy in store for him in that he was to meet his erstwhile Rector,[74] who was to give away the bride. The old fellow had still the same military mien, the same harsh voice, and was still as sincerely fond of Desiderius and the two families as ever.
[Footnote 74: The director of the school when he was educated at Pressburg.]
Lorand was to be Desiderius' best man.
In this official position he was obliged to stand on the bridegroom's left, while the latter swore before the altar, to provide for the bride's happiness "till death us do part," receiving in trust a faithful hand which even in death would not loosen its hold on his. He was the first to praise the bride for repeating after the minister so courageously and clearly those words, at which the voices of girls are wont to tremble. He was the first to raise his gla.s.s to the happy couple's health: he opened the ball with the bride: and one day later, it was he who took her back on his arm to his mother's home, saying:
"Dear sister-in-law, step into the house from which your calm face has driven all signs of mourning: embrace her who awaits you--the good mother who has to-day for the first time exchanged her black gown for that blue one in which we knew her in days of happiness. Never has bride brought a richer dowry to a bridegroom's home, than you have to ours.
G.o.d bless you for it."
And even Lorand did not know how much that hand which pressed his so gently had done for him.
It is the fate of such deeds to succeed and remain obscure.
"Let the children spend their happy honeymoon in the country," was the opinion of the elder lady. "They must grow accustomed to being their own masters, too."
But the idea met with the most strenuous opposition from Desiderius'
mother and f.a.n.n.y. The mother's prayers were so beautiful, the bride so irresistible, that the other two, the grandmother and Lorand, finally allowed themselves to be persuaded, and agreed that the mother should stay with Desiderius.
"But we two must leave," whispered grandmother to Lorand.
She had already noticed that Lorand's face was not fit to be present in that peaceful life.
His gaiety was only for others: a grandmother's eyes could not be deceived.