that, Charles. He has made a good choice all the same. I was much taken with the young lady."--"So was I, Bräsig."--"You see what a woman can do in keeping things straight in what your sister has done. I'm going to call on her to-morrow, for those two young parsons seem to have been getting into a scrape of some kind. Good-night, Charles."--"Good-night, Bräsig."

CHAPTER III.

Next morning Fred Triddelfitz swam about the farm-yard at Pümpelhagen like a pickerel in a fish-pond, for he had put on his green hunting-coat and grey breeches, in order that--as he said to himself--Mrs. von Rambow might have something pleasant to look at. His eyes which used to glance ever and anon at Hawermann's window when he was at work in the yard, were now turned often and curiously in the direction of the manor-house, and when the squire opened his window and called him, he shot across the yard as if he were indeed a pickerel and Alick were the bait he wanted to catch.

"Triddelfitz," said Mr. von Rambow, "I have determined to make a short address to my people this morning, will you tell them to come up to the house at nine o'clock."--"Aye, aye, Sir," said Fred, who thought that answer more respectful than any other he could have used.--"Where is the bailiff? I want to speak to him; but there's no hurry."--"He has just gone out at the back gate with Mr. Bräsig."--"Very well. When he comes back will do perfectly."--Fred made as grand a bow as he could, and turned to go, but after walking away a few steps, he went back and asked: "Pray, Sir, do you want to see the women as well as the men?"--"No, only the men. But wait a moment--yes, you can tell the married women to come too."--"Aye, aye, Sir," said Fred, who then set off round the village, and desired all the married women, and the men who worked on the farm to go up to the manor-house in their Sunday-clothes.--It was now eight o'clock, and if the ploughmen who were at work in the more distant fields were to get up to Pümpelhagen in time, they must be called at once, so he set off to fetch them.

Hawermann had accompanied his old friend a little bit of the way towards Rexow, and then crossing the fields, he went to see how the ploughmen were getting on with their work. Whilst he was there, Fred came over the hill and made towards him in as straight a line as he could, considering his way of walking and the roughness of the ploughed land. "Mr. Hawermann," he said, "the men must unyoke their horses at once, for the squire wants all the workmen to be up at the manor-house at nine. He is going to make them a speech."--"What is he going to do?" asked Hawermann surprised.--"Make a speech," was the answer. "All the other men and the married women have received orders to be ready. He had forgotten the women, but I reminded him of them."--"You'd better," ....--"have left it alone," Hawermann was going to have said, but he stopped himself in time and added quietly: "Go and give the men your message."--"But you're wanted too."--"Very well," answered the old man turning to go home with a heavy heart.--That bit of land ought to have been finished that morning, and now nothing to speak of could be done till the afternoon.--And there was another thing. His master had made this arrangement on the very first day without telling him of his intention. He had consulted Triddelfitz, not him, and yet there was no such desperate need of hurry.--Still that did not grieve him so much as the thought of the speech. What on earth was he going to say? Was he going to lecture them about their duty? If he was it was unnecessary to do so. The people went to their work as naturally as to their dinner ..... they did not think about their duty, they just did it. It would be a great pity to speak to them either in praise or blame upon the subject. Too much talk did more harm than good. Labourers were like children, if they were praised for doing their duty, they began to think that they had done more than their duty.--Or was he going to give them some proof of his generosity? He was quite good-natured enough for that.--But what could he give them?--They had all they needed. He could give them nothing tangible, for he knew too little of their position to do so, he would, therefore, be obliged to content himself with vague figures of speech and meaningless promises, which everyone would of course interpret according to his own hopes and wishes, and which it would be impossible ever to realize.

These were Hawermann's thoughts as he went to join his master in his study. Mrs. von Rambow was in the room ready dressed for her walk over the farm. She went forward to meet him as he came in and said: "We must wait for a little, Mr. Hawermann, Alick wants to speak to the people before we go."--"That won't take long," said Alick who was turning over some papers.--There was a knock at the door.--"Come in."--And Fred entered with a letter in his hand: "From Gürlitz," he said.--Alick broke the seal and read the letter. It was from attorney Slus'uhr to say that when David and he happened to be passing Gürlitz that morning they had gone in to see Mr. Pomuchelskopp, from whom they had accidentally heard of Mr. von Rainbow's return home, and as they wished to speak to him on particular business, they would do themselves the pleasure, &c. &c. There was also a postscript to say that the business was very pressing. Alick was in a very painful position, for he could not refuse to receive the two men however much he might wish to do so. He went out to the door, and told the messenger that he would be glad to see the gentlemen, but when he returned to the study he looked so grave and anxious that his wife asked him what was the matter. "Oh, nothing," he answered. "I'm thinking about my speech. I'm afraid that it will last longer than I thought at first, and so perhaps it would be better if you and Mr. Hawermann were to set out at once without waiting for me."--"Oh, Alick, without you! I had been looking forward ...."--"But you see, my dear child, I can't help it. I know the whole place perfectly, and--and I will follow you as soon as I possibly can."--It seemed to Hawermann that the squire was nervously anxious to get rid of them both, so he came forward and asked Mrs. von Rambow if she would go with him now. She consented and followed him somewhat gravely.

Soon after they were gone Alick addressed the assembled villagers, but his whole pleasure in making his speech from the throne was destroyed by the remembrance of the disagreeable letter in his pocket. The speech was much what Hawermann had imagined it would be. It was made up of good advice and promises couched in such long words and high-flown language, that the villagers were quite puzzled as to what it all meant; the only thing they understood was that the squire had promised them all sorts of good things, and had said that any one who had a favour to ask was to go at once to him, and his request would meet with fatherly consideration.--"Ah!" said Päsel to Näsel. "That's a good look out for us. He'll do that, will he? I'll go to him to-morrow, and ask if I may bring up a calf this year."--"You got one last year."--"That doesn't matter, I can sell it to the weaver at Gürlitz."--"Well," said Kegel to Degel, "I'll go to him to-morrow, and ask him to give me another bit of potato-ground next spring, and tell him that my piece isn't big enough to supply my family."--"That was because you didn't hoe your potatoes at the right time; the bailiff gave you a bit of his mind about it you remember."--"What does that matter? The devil a bit he knows about that, and he's our master now, and not the bailiff."--So the people went away restless and discontented with their present condition, and Alick himself was anxious and unhappy because of the visit that was hanging over him that morning. The only person at Pümpelhagen who was perfectly contented was Fred Triddelfitz, so the young squire had not cast the pearls of his speech