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Some hours later, when they were all seated at table, drinking and singing, Florian favored the company with a new song which he had picked up on his travels:–

“In Strasbourg on the rampart,
She loved me much indeed:
She always brought my breakfast
And a letter for to read.

“I always got the letter:
The breakfast never came:
And in it there was written,
‘Winter has come again.’

“Winter has come, as usual;
The bosses are feeling good:
They say to the poor journeymen,
‘Go out and split some wood.

“‘And mind you make it small enough,
And make it not too small;
And you shall be my journeymen,
As you have been this fall.’

“And winter is past and over;
The jours are full of pluck:
They come to the boss’s table
And tell him what’s o’clock.

“‘Come, boss; its time to settle:
Bring out your little bill:
You gave us beans this winter,
And we have had our fill.’

“‘Oh, if the bread’s not white enough,
I’ll get another kind,
And if your bed’s not soft enough—-‘”

At the lines which followed, sad to say, Crescence did not blush, nor did any of the other girls; but all received the production with unmingled merriment.

Who could doubt, after this, that Florian was the leading young man in the village?

But when Crescence came home she had to expiate her glory with bitter sufferings: her mother was sick, and her father, for the time-being, reigned supreme. But she bore all without a murmur, knowing that Florian would be hers; for hadn’t they won the wether?

7.

DOWN HILL.

With the jollification the importance of Florian came to an end. He was pushed into a corner, like a bass-fiddle in working-time: people went about their business, and thought little of the fun-makers. Florian alone had no business to go about: he hung around the taverns until he ceased to be welcome even there.

In a village it is very difficult to keep up appearances on fictitious capital. Baden had joined the “Zollverein,” and the old butcher’s occupation was gone likewise. Nevertheless, Florian continued to walk about, erect and proud, in the fine clothes he had purchased in his best days. He was always neatly brushed; and, though his boots were soleless, the upper leathers shone as heretofore.

“They can look at my clothes, but not into my stomach,” was his motto.

The watch with the silver seals he wore on Sunday only, having received this privilege when he left it with old Gudel.

The fair at Horb brought another holiday for half the village. At daybreak the old butcher was seen standing at Jacob’s Well, while all the farmers who passed on the road with their cattle asked him what they weighed. He was delighted with this occupation, for it made him feel as if he could buy them all himself; and, besides, he hoped that one or the other would invite him to go to town. In this he was disappointed, however,–poor fellow! He had handled so much fine meat in his time, and for two weeks he had been compelled to put up with a vegetable diet! Finding all his trouble in vain, he sighed heavily, wiped the sweat from his forehead, went home to get his stick and walk over to the fair on speculation, to look out for something to turn up.

Florian ran distractedly up and down the village. He met Crescence, who was going to the fair with her father, but ran past them without stopping to talk: he had not a copper, in his pocket. Whenever he met a young man, he meditated asking him for a loan, but would stop himself with “Oh, he won’t give me any thing,” or, “He hasn’t much to spare, and then I’d only have the shame of it.” Thus he suffered one and another to pass by. “What should I go to market for? They’re not selling me out there, and there’s a great many not going besides myself; but then that is because they don’t want to, and I don’t go because I can’t.” It now seemed to him as if a joy never to be replaced would be lost if he remained at home: he must go: every thing depended upon it. With a flushed face and flashing eyes, he walked along the village, constantly talking to himself. “There lives Jack the blacksmith. I treated him ever so often at the bel-wether dance; but he won’t give me any thing, for all that. There’s Koch the carpenter: he’s been abroad like myself. I’ll go to him: it’s the first time I’m so familiar with him; but it can’t be helped.”