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Florian And Crescence
by
Almost every Sunday Crescence was compelled, with cruel maltreatment, to go with her father and meet the geometer in Muehl or at the half-way house in Eglesthal. She was then gay and sprightly against her will; and, after she had carried on this hypocrisy long enough, the wine would come to her aid and really elevate her spirits,–so that the geometer always ended with thinking that she was still really fond of him.
But in the evening she always contrived to meet Florian; and, when she returned home, new maltreatment awaited her. Thus poor Crescence led a wretched life,–though, fortunately for her, she was so much inured to deceit and untruth that she was not aware of the full extent of its depravity.
6.
FLORIAN IN CLOVER.
Florian tried to earn some money here and there, but rarely succeeded. He would only work at his trade or at some other agreeable occupation. Field-labor was beneath his dignity; and he would rather have starved than break stone on the highroad,–the usual resource of men without capital. Like many others, he would only work at what he liked,–a principle upon which very few men indeed ever manage to prosper. But a time came for him to obtain some funds and a plentiful supply of that glory which he so much craved. The bel-wether dance was approaching, and great preparations were being made for it. Mine host of the Eagle had made his peace with Florian and his friends; for he understood his position too well to keep up a feud with his neighbors in the quarrel of a customer who had left. Florian now slaughtered for Caspar a heifer and a hog. The latter ceremony was performed in the street, so that everybody stopped to watch the active functionary, whom it was indeed a pleasure to see in the labor of his trade. The muscles of his bare arms were so strong and smooth that the life and death of the poor beasts seemed indeed to lie in his hand. With three strokes upon the steel he whetted his knife so sharp that he could cut a hair loose at one end. But the greatest crowd of idlers always assembled when he began to chop the sausage-meat. He handled his cleavers as lightly as a drummer his sticks, whistling a waltz the meanwhile to keep himself in time. A particular flourish consisted in throwing one of the cleavers into the air while he chopped on uninterruptedly with the other, snapping the fingers of the empty hand, catching the cleaver again, and chopping on without getting out of the time. At this achievement all lifted up their hands in astonishment.
The old butcher was present also, mainly to assist in consuming the kettle-meat, fresh from the fire; after which the renown of his son afforded an excellent dessert. He strolled to George the blacksmith’s door, and found him in deep lamentation. “All my subjects refuse to obey me,” he said. “They leave me sitting here all alone and run to watch Florian. I’d give three creutzers if he’d come and do his killing here.”
“Yes,” added the old butcher, rubbing his hands, “the court-butcher at Stuttgard can’t come up to my Florian. He once made a bet with his friends in Strasbourg to get four calves and two hogs into marketing-order without bringing a speck on his clothes; and he did it, and his apron and his shirt were as white as the driven snow.”
Florian now received so many orders that he found no rest by day or night, and when the day of the bel-wether dance came he overslept the morning service.
Crescence had promised the geometer an interview at Eglesthal; but Florian easily succeeded in inducing her to break her word.
The close of the afternoon service was the signal of rejoicings throughout the village. In the yard of the manor-house a number of stakes were put up in a ring, with a rope around them. In the middle stood a fine wether, decorated with a red ribbon, while a glittering bowl of pewter was on a little table beside him. The band of musicians headed the procession, followed by the boys and girls in couples, hand in hand.