They left the beer cellar and took the direction of the city.
"Now let us descend a little lower, to what I might call the amphibia of society," said Greifmann. "We are going to visit a place where masons, sawyers, cobblers, laborers, and other small fry are in the habit of slaking their thirst. You will there find going on the same sort of electioneering, or, as you call it, the same sort of terrorism, only in a rougher style. There beer-jugs occasionally go flying about, and bloody heads and rough-and-tumble, fights may be witnessed."
"I have no stomach for fisticuffs and whizzing beer-mugs," said Gerlach.
"Never mind, come along. I have undertaken to initiate you into the mysteries of elections, and you are to get a correct idea of the life action of a cultivated state."
They entered an obscure alley where a fetid, sultry atmosphere assailed them. Greifmann stopped before a lofty house, and pointed to a transparency on which a brimming beer-tankard was represented. A wild tumult was audible through the windows, through which the cry of "Shund!" rose at times like the swell of a great wave from the midst of corrupted waters. As they were passing the doorway a dense fog of tobacco smoke mingled with divers filthy odors assailed their nostrils. Seraphin, who was accustomed to inhaling the pure atmosphere of the country, showed an inclination to retreat, and had already half-way faced about when his companion seized and held him. "Courage, my friend! wade into the slough boldly," cried he into the struggling youth's ear. "Hereafter, when you will be riding through woodland and meadows, the recollection of this subterranean den will enable you to appreciate the pure atmosphere of the country twice as well. Look at those sodden faces and swollen heads. Those fellows are literally wallowing and seething in beer, and they feel as comfortable as ten thousand cannibals. It is really a joy to be among men who are natural."
The millionaires, having with no little difficulty succeeded in finding seats, were accosted by a female waiter.
"Do the gentlemen wish to have election beer?"
"No," replied Gerlach.
His abrupt tone in declining excited the surprise of the fellows who sat next to them. Several of them stared at the landholder.
"So you don't want any election beer?" cried a fellow who was pretty well fired.
"Why not? May be it isn't good enough for you?"
"Oh, yes! oh, yes!" replied the banker hastily. "You see, Mr. Shund" -
"That's good! You call me Shund," interrupted the fellow with a coarse laugh. "My name isn't Shund-my name is Koenig-yes, Koenig-with all due respect to you."
"Well, Mr. Koenig-you see, Mr. Koenig, we decline drinking election beer because we are not entitled to it-we do not belong to this place."
"Ah, yes-well, that's honest!" lauded Koenig. "Being that you are a couple of honest fellows, you must partake of some of the good things of our feast. I say, Kate," cried he to the female waiter, "bring these gentlemen some of the election sausages."
Greifmann, perceiving that Seraphin was about putting in a protest, nudged him.
"What feast are you celebrating to-day?" inquired the banker.
"That I will explain to you. We are to have an election here to-morrow; these men on the ticket, you see, are to be elected." And he drew forth one of Spitzkopf's tickets. "Every one of us has received a ticket like this, and we are all going to vote according to the ticket-of course, you know, we don't do it for nothing. To-day and to-morrow, what we eat and drink is free of charge. And if Satan's own grandmother were on the ticket, I would vote for her."
"The first one on the list is Mr. Hans Shund. What sort of a man is he?" asked Seraphin. "No doubt he is the most honorable and most respectable man in the place!"
"Ha! ha! that's funny! The most honorable man in the place! Really you make me laugh. Never mind, however, I don't mean to be impolite. You are a stranger hereabout, and cannot, of course, be expected to know anything of it. Shund, you see, was formerly-that, is a couple of days ago-Shund was a man of whom nobody knew any good. For my part, I wouldn't just like to be sticking in Shund's hide. Well, that's the way things are: you know it won't do to babble it all just as it is. But you understand me. To make a long story short, since day before yesterday Shund is the honestest man in the world. Our men of money have made him that, you know," giving a sly wink. "What the men of money do, is well done, of course, for the proverb says, 'Whose bread I eat, his song I sing.'"
"Shut your mouth, Koenig! What stuff is that you are talking there?" said another fellow roughly. "Hans Shund is a free-spirited, clever, first-class, distinguished man. Taken altogether, he is a liberal man. For this reason he will be elected councilman to-morrow, then mayor of the city, and finally member of the assembly."
"That's so, that's so, my partner is right," confirmed Koenig. "But listen, Flachsen, you will agree that formerly-you know, formerly-he was an arrant scoundrel."
"Why was he? Why?" inquired Flachsen.
"Why? Ha, ha! I say, Flachsen, go to Shund's wife, she can tell you best. Go to those whom he has reduced to beggary, for instance, to Holt over there. They all can tell you what Shund is, or rather what he has been. But don't get mad, brother Flachsen! Spite of all that, I shall vote for Shund. That's settled." And he poured the contents of his beer-pot down his throat.
"As you gentlemen are strangers, I will undertake to explain this business for you," said Flachsen, who evidently was an agent for the lower classes, and who did his best to put on an appearance of learning by affecting high-sounding words of foreign origin.
"Shund is quite a rational man, learned and full of intelligence. But the priests have calumniated him horribly because he will not howl with them. For this reason we intend to elect him, not for the sake of the free beer. When Shund will have been elected, a system of economy will be inaugurated, taxes will be removed, and the encyclical letter with which the Pope has tried to stultify the people, together with the syllabus, will be sent to the dogs. And in the legislative assembly the liberal-minded Shund will manage to have the priests excluded from the schools, and we will have none but secular schools. In short, the dismal rule of the priesthood that would like to keep the people in leading-strings will be put an end to, and liberal views will control our affairs. As for Shund's doings outside of legitimate wedlock, that is one of the boons of liberty-it is a right of humanity; and when Koenig lets loose against Shund's money speculations, he is only talking so much bigoted nonsense."
Flachsen's apologetic discourse was interrupted by a row that took place at the next table. There sat a victim of Shund's usury, the land-cultivator Holt. He drank no beer, but wine, to dispel gloomy thoughts and the temptations of desperation. It had cost him no ordinary struggle to listen quietly to eulogies passed on Shund. He had maintained silence, and had at times smiled a very peculiar smile. His bruised heart must have suffered a fearful contraction as he heard men sounding the praises of a wretch whom he knew to be wicked and devoid of conscience. For a long time he succeeded in restraining himself. But the wine he had drunk at last fanned his smouldering passion into a hot flame of rage, and, clenching his fist, he struck the table violently.
"The fellow whom you extol is a scoundrel!" cried he.
"Who is a scoundrel?" roared several voices.
"Your man, your councilman, your mayor, is a scoundrel! Shund is a scoundrel!" cried the ruined countryman passionately.
"And you, Holt, are a fool!"
"You are drunk, Holt!"
"Holt is an ass," maintained Flachsen. "He cannot read, otherwise he would have seen in the Evening Gazette that Shund is a man of honor, a friend of the people, a progressive man, a liberal man, a brilliant genius, a despiser of religion, a death-dealer to superstition, a-a-I don't remember what all besides. Had you read all that in the evening paper, you fool, you wouldn't presume to open your foul mouth against a man of honor like Hans Shund. Yes, stare; if you had read the evening paper, you would have seen the enumeration of the great qualities and deeds of Hans Shund in black and white."
"The evening paper, indeed!" cried Holt contemptuously. "Does the evening paper also mention how Shund brought about the ruin of the father of a family of eight children?"
"What's that you say, you dog?" yelled a furious fellow. "That's a lie against Shund!"
"Easy, Graeulich, easy," replied Holt to the last speaker, who was about to set upon him. "It is not a lie, for I am the man whom Shund has strangled with his usurer's clutches. He has reduced me to beggary-me and my wife and my children."
Graeulich lowered his fists, for Holt spoke so convincingly, and the anguish in his face appealed so touchingly, that the man's fury was in an instant changed to sympathy. Holt had stood up. He related at length the wily and unscrupulous proceedings through which he had been brought to ruin. The company listened to his story, many nodded in token of sympathy, for everybody was acquainted with the ways of the hero of the day.
"That's the way Shund has made a beggar of me," concluded Holt. "And I am not the only one, you know it well. If, then, I call Shund a usurer, a scoundrel, a villain, you cannot help agreeing with me."
Flachsen noticed with alarm that the feeling of the company was becoming hostile to his cause. He approached the table, where he was met by perplexed looks from his aids.
"Don't you perceive," cried he, "that Holt is a hireling of the priests? Will you permit yourselves to be imposed upon by this salaried slave? Hear me, you scapegrace, you rascal, you ass, listen to what I have to tell you! Hans Shund is the lion of the day-the greatest man of this century! Hans Shund is greater than Bismarck, sharper than Napoleon. Out of nothing God made the universe: from nothing Hans Shund has got to be a rich man. Shund has a mouthpiece that moves like a mill-wheel on which entire streams fall. In the assembly Shund will talk down all opposition. He will talk even better than that fellow Voelk, over in Bavaria, who is merely a lawyer, but talks upon everything, even things he knows nothing about. And do you, lousy beggar, presume to malign a man of this kind? If you open that filthy mouth of yours once more, I will stop it for you with paving-stones."
"Hold, Flachsen, hold! I am not the man that is paid; you are the one that is paid," retorted the countryman indignantly. "My mouth has not been honey-fed like yours. Nor do I drink your election beer or eat your election sausages. But with my last breath I will maintain that Shund is a scoundrel, a usurer, a villain."
"Out with the fellow!" cried Flachsen. "He has insulted us all, for we have all been drinking election beer. Out with the helot of the priests!"
The progressionist mob fell upon the unhappy man, throttled him, beat him, and drove him into the street.
"Let us leave this den of cutthroats," said Gerlach, rising.
Outside they found Holt leaning against a wall, wiping the blood from his face. Seraphin approached him. "Are you badly hurt, my good man?" asked he kindly. The wounded man, looking up, saw a noble countenance before him, and, whilst he continued to gaze hard at Seraphin's fine features, tears began to roll from his eyes.
"O God! O God!" sighed he, and then relapsed into silence. But in the tone of his words could be noticed the terrible agony he was suffering.
"Is the wound deep-is it dangerous?" asked the young man.
"No, sir, no! The wound on my forehead is nothing-signifies nothing; but in here," pointing to his breast-"in here are care, anxiety, despair. I am thankful, sir, for your sympathy; it is soothing. But you may go your way; the blows signify nothing."
CHAPTER V
Gerlach whispered something to the banker. Holt pressed his pocket-handkerchief to the wound.
"Please yourself!" said the banker loudly, in a business tone. Seraphin again approached the beaten man.
"Will you please, my good man, to accompany us?"
"What for, sir?"
"Because I would like to do something towards healing up your wound; I mean the wound in there."
Holt stood motionless before the stranger, and looked at him.
"I thank you, sir; there is no remedy for me; I am doomed!"
"Still, I will assist you. Follow me."
"Who are you, sir, if I may ask the question?"
"I am a man whom Providence seems to have chosen to rescue the prey from the jaws of a usurer. Come along with us, and fear nothing."
"Very well, I will go in the name of God! I do not precisely know your object, and you are a stranger to me. But your countenance looks innocent and kind, therefore I will go with you."
They passed through alleys and streets.
"Do you often visit that tavern?" inquired Seraphin.
"Not six times in a year," answered Holt. "Sometimes of a Sunday I drink half a glass of wine, that's all. I am poor, and have to be saving. I would not have gone to the tavern to-day but that I wanted to get rid of my feelings of misery."
"I overheard your story," rejoined Seraphin. "Shund's treatment of you was inhuman. He behaved towards you like a trickish devil."
"That he did! And I am ruined together with my family," replied the poor man dejectedly.
"Take my advice, and never abuse Shund. You know how respectable he has suddenly got to be, how many influential friends he has. You can easily perceive that one cannot say anything unfavorable of such a man without great risk, no matter were it true ten times over."
"I am not given to disputing," replied Holt. "But it stirred the bile within me to hear him extolled, and it broke out. Oh! I have learned to suffer in silence. I haven't time to think of other matters. After God, my business and my family were my only care. I attended to my occupation faithfully and quietly as long as I had any to attend to, but now I haven't any to take care of. O God! it is hard. It will bring me to the grave."
"You are a land cultivator?"
"Yes, sir."
"Shund intends to have you sold out?"
"Yes; immediately after the election he intends to complete my ruin."
"How much money would you need in order with industry to get along?"
"A great deal of money, a great deal-at least a thousand florins. I have given him a mortgage for a thousand florins on my house and what was left to me. A thousand florins would suffice to help me out of trouble. I might save my little cottage, my two cows, and a field. I might then plough and sow for other people. I could get along and subsist honestly. But as I told you, nothing less than a thousand florins would do; and where am I to get so much money? You see there is no hope for me, no help for me. I am doomed!"
"The mortgaged property is considerable," said Gerlach. "A house, even though a small one, moreover, a field, a barn, a garden, all these together are surely worth a much higher price. Could you not borrow a thousand florins on it and pay off the usurer?"
"No, sir. Nobody would be willing to lend me that amount of money upon property mortgaged to a man like Shund. Besides, my little property is out of town, and who wants to go there? I, for my part, of course, like no spot as much, for it is the house my father built, and I was born and brought up there."
The man lapsed into silence, and walked at Seraphin's side like one weighed down by a heavy load. The delicate sympathy of the young man enabled him to guess what was passing in the breast of the man under the load. He knew that Holt was recalling his childhood passed under the paternal roof; that little spot of home was hallowed for him by events connected with his mother, his father, his brothers and sisters, or with other objects more trifling, which, however, remained fresh and bright in memory, like balmy days of spring.
From this consecrated spot he was to be exiled, driven out with wife and children, through the inhumanity and despicable cunning of an usurer. The man heaved a deep sigh, and Gerlach, watching him sidewise, noticed his lips were compressed, and that large tears rolled down his weather-browned cheeks. The tender heart of the young man was deeply affected at this sight, and the millionaire for once rejoiced in the consciousness of possessing the might of money.
They halted before the Palais Greifmann. Holt noticed with surprise how the man in blouse drew from his waistcoat pocket a small instrument resembling a toothpick, and with it opened a door near the carriage gate. Had not every shadow of suspicion been driven from Holt's mind by Seraphin's appearance, he would surely have believed that he had fallen into the company of burglars, who entrapped him to aid in breaking into this palace.
Reluctantly, after repeated encouragement from Gerlach, he crossed the threshold of the stately mansion. He had not quite passed the door when he took off his cap, stared at the costly furniture of the hall through which they were passing, and was reminded of St. Peter's thought as the angel was rescuing him from the clutches of Herod. Holt imagined he saw a vision. The man who had unlocked the door disappeared. Seraphin entered an apartment followed by Shund's victim.
"Do you know where you are?" inquired the millionaire.
"Yes, sir, in the house of Mr. Greifmann the banker."
"And you are somewhat surprised, are you not?"
"I am so much astonished, sir, that I have several times pinched my arms and legs, for it all seems to me like a dream."
Seraphin smiled and laid aside his cap. Holt scanned the noble features of the young man more minutely, his handsome face, his stately bearing, and concluded the man in the blouse must be some distinguished gentleman.
"Take courage," said the noble looking young man in a kindly tone. "You shall be assisted. I am convinced that you are an honest, industrious man, brought to the verge of ruin through no fault of your own. Nor do I blame you for inadvertently falling into the nets of the usurer, for I believe your honest nature never suspected that there could exist so fiendish a monster as the one that lives in the soul of an usurer."
"You may rely upon it, sir. If I had had the slightest suspicion of such a thing, Shund never would have got me into his clutches."
"I am convinced of it. You are partially the victim of your own good nature, and partially the prey of the wild beast Shund. Now listen to me: Suppose somebody were to give you a thousand florins, and to say: 'Holt, take this money, 'tis yours. Be industrious, get along, be a prudent housekeeper, serve God to the end of your days, and in future beware of usurers'-suppose somebody were to address you in this way, what would you do?"
"Supposing the case, sir, although it is not possible, but supposing the case, what would I do? I would do precisely what that person would have told me, and a great deal more. I would work day and night. Every day, at evening prayer, I would get on my knees with my wife and children, and invoke God's protection on that person. I would do that, sir; but, as I said, the case is impossible."
"Nevertheless, suppose it did happen," explained Seraphin in a preliminary way. "Give me your hand that you will fulfil the promise you have just given."
For a moment Seraphin's hand lay in a callous, iron palm, which pressed his soft fingers in an uncomfortable but well-meant grasp.
"Well, now follow me," said Gerlach.
He led the way; Holt followed with an unsteady step like a drunken man. They presented themselves before the banker's counter. The latter was standing behind the trellis of his desk, and on a table lay ten rolls of money.
"You have just now by word and hand confirmed a promise," said Gerlach, turning to the countryman, "which cannot be appreciated in money, for that promise comprises almost all the duties of the father of a family. But to make the fulfilment of the promise possible, a thousand florins are needed. Here lies the money. Accept it from me as a gift, and be happy."
Holt did not stir. He looked from the money at Gerlach, was motionless and rigid, until, at last, the paralyzing surprise began to resolve itself into a spasmodic quivering of the lips, and then into a mighty flood of tears. Seizing Seraphin's hands, he kissed them with an emotion that convulsed his whole being.
"That will do now," said the millionaire, "take the money, and go home."
"My God! I cannot find utterance," said Holt, stammering forth the words with difficulty. "Good heaven! is it possible? Is it true? I am still thinking 'tis only a dream."
"Downright reality, my man!" said the banker. "Stop crying; save your tears for a more fitting occasion. Put the rolls in your pocket, and go home."
Greifmann's coldness was effective in sobering down the man intoxicated with joy.
"May I ask, sir, what your name is, that I may at least know to whom I owe my rescue?"
"Seraphin is my name."
"Your name sounds like an angel's, and you are an angel to me. I am not acquainted with you, but God knows you, and he will requite you according to your deeds."
Gerlach nodded gravely. The banker was impatient and murmured discontentedly. Holt carefully pocketed the rolls of money, made an inclination of gratitude to Gerlach, and went out. He passed slowly through the hall. The porter opened the door. Holt stood still before him.
"I ask your pardon, but do you know Mr. Seraphin?" asked he.
"Why shouldn't I know a gentleman that has been our guest for the last two weeks?"
"You must pardon my presumption, Mr. Porter. Will Mr. Seraphin remain here much longer?"
"He will remain another week for certain."
"I am very much obliged to you," said Holt, passing into the street and hurrying away.
"Your intended has a queer way of applying his money," said the banker to his sister the next morning. And he reported to her the story of Seraphin's munificence. "I do not exactly like this sort of kindness, for it oversteps all bounds, and undoubtedly results from religious enthusiasm."
"That, too, can be cured," replied Louise confidently. "I will make him understand that eternity restores nothing, that consequently it is safer and more prudent to exact interest from the present."
"'Tis true, the situation of that fellow Holt was a pitiable one, and Hans Shund's treatment of him was a masterpiece of speculation. He had stripped the fellow completely. The stupid Holt had for years been laboring for the cunning Shund, who continued drawing his meshes more and more tightly about him. Like a huge spider, he leisurely sucked out the life of the fly he had entrapped."
"Your hostler says there was light in Seraphin's room long after midnight. I wonder what hindered him from sleeping?"
"That is not hard to divine. In all probability he was composing a sentimental ditty to his much adored," answered Carl teasingly. "Midnight is said to be a propitious time for occupations of that sort."
"Do be quiet, you tease! But I too was thinking that he must have been engaged in writing. May be he was making a memorandum of yesterday's experience in his journal."
"May be he was. At all events, the impressions made on him were very strong."
"But I do not like your venture; it may turn out disastrous,"
"How can it, my most learned sister?"
"You know Seraphin's position," explained she. "He has been reared in the rigor of sectarian credulity. The spirit of modern civilization being thus abruptly placed before his one-sided judgment without previous preparation may alarm, nay, may even disgust him. And when once he will have perceived that the brother is a partisan of the horrible monster, is it probable that he will feel favorably disposed towards the sister whose views harmonize with those of her brother?"
"I have done nothing to justify him in setting me down for a partisan. I maintain strict neutrality. My purpose is to accustom the weakling to the atmosphere of enlightenment which is fatal to all religious phantasms. Have no fear of his growing cold towards you," proceeded he in his customary tone of irony. "Your ever victorious power holds him spell-bound in the magic circle of your enchantment. Besides, Louise," continued he frowning, "I do not think I could tolerate a brother-in-law steeped over head and ears in prejudices. You yourself might find it highly uncomfortable to live with a husband of this kind."
"Uncomfortable! No, I would not. I would find it exciting, for it would become my task to train and cultivate an abnormal specimen of the male gender."
"Very praiseworthy, sister! And if I now endeavor by means of living illustrations to familiarize your intended with the nature of modern intellectual enlightenment, I am merely preparing the way for your future labors."