Hermann Sudermann

“ When Trude says, "Hans, let us sing," they sit down demurely side by side on the veranda or saunter slowly along the river, and when Martin has lighted his pipe and is ready to listen, they warble forth their songs into the gloaming. These are delightful, solemn moments. The birds in the trees twitter in their slumber, a soft breeze wafts through the branches and the mill-weir with its dull rushing sings the accompaniment. How quickly their mood changes! They have begun so merrily, but the melodies grow sadder and sadder, and the sound of their voices more and more mournful. ”

“ When Martin reached home on that morning, when he found the whole house quiet, as quiet as a mouse, he took the key of the mill from the wall and slunk off to that melancholy place which he had built up as the temple of his guilt. There his people found him at midday, pale as the whitewashed walls, his head bowed upon his hands, muttering to himself incessantly: "Retribution for Fritz! Retribution for Fritz!" The phantom, the old terrible phantom, which he had thought was laid for evermore, has cast itself upon him anew and is twining its strangling claw about his neck. ”

“ Why must he sleep till the ocean shall have drunk up the brook? And if the cruel maiden is to throw her kerchief into the brook that his eyes may be covered, why, then the sleeper cannot be lying on the water's brink, then he must be lying deep down--Trude covers her face with her hands and bursts into loud, convulsive sobs, and when Johannes still persists in reading to the end, she cries out "Stop, stop!"
"Trude, whatever is the matter?"
She beckons him to leave her alone; her weeping becomes more and more violent; her whole body sways, it seeks a support, it bends backwards. ”

“ She bears his look for a second; then drops her eyes and says in some confusion; "I wonder where Martin can be?"
"In the mill, I suppose!"
"Yes, in the mill, of course," she answers quickly; and with the words "I will fetch him," she hurries away. Almost without thinking he stares after the girlish figure bounding so lightly across the grass.
Everything about her seems to be flying and fluttering--her skirts, her apron-strings, the kerchief about her neck, her untameable, entangled mass of curls. ”

“ Johannes laughingly asks.
"David! David!" shouts Martin's lusty voice above all the clatter of the wheels.
Then from out the darkness, by the motor machine, which rises Cyclops-like from below the woodwork of the galleries, there emerges a long, lanky figure, dipped in flour--a face shows itself on which the indifference of old age has left nothing to be read--a slightly reddened nose, which almost meets the bristly chin, weak and sulky eyes hidden beneath bushy brows, and a mouth which seems to be continually chewing. ”

“ Tearless sobs shake his frame. Before his eyes everything is aflame--aflame with a blood-red light as if the whole world were set on fire. Now it is all suddenly made clear as day to him! What dawned mysteriously within him in yonder midsummer night, what flashed like lightning through his brain on that evening when Trude broke down sobbing in the middle of her song--all now arises before him like a glowing ball of fire. Every flame speaks of hate; every ray flashes with torturing jealousy through his soul, every gleam pierces his heart with fear and guilty consciousness. ”

“ Does he not know? Has Johannes confessed to him! Has he found out by chance? Does he perhaps only suspect?" Since that time her soul is fretting itself away; her body repines in fear of this man and in yearning for that other, whom love of her has driven away. She grows pale and thin; her cheeks fade. She steals about like a somnambulist. Round her eyes bluish grooves are outlined, and grow broader and broader, and about her mouth is graven a tiny wrinkle which keeps on twitching and moving like a dancing will-o'-the-wisp.
Martin remarks nothing of all this. ”

“ Johannes laughs curtly and Trude turns away. Suddenly she gets up, says laconically, "Good-night," and disappears.
A little later the brothers, too, part company.
With heavy limbs Johannes mounts the stairs--he opens the door of his room--an intoxicating fragrance of flowers wells towards him. He draws a deep breath and utters a sigh of satisfaction. Then this was the reason for going at such a late hour into the garden! By the side of his pillow stands a huge bunch of rose and jasmine. He drops into bed as if he would like to bury himself beneath this mass of blossoms. ”

“ Hasn't everything arranged itself happily and satisfactorily since Johannes came to live at the mill? Have not even his own bad hours of tragic presentiment and haunting terror become less and less frequent? Is he not visibly reviving, infected by the harmless merriment of those two? Is not this very day the best proof that his antipathy to strange people has disappeared, that he has learnt to be merry when others are merry-making?--And Trude--how happy she is at his side!--That evening certainly!--Well, what of that! Women are frail creatures, subject to a thousand varying moods! ”

“ They sit on the veranda around the white-spread supper-table, the food upon which has to-day found little appreciation, and their gaze is full of intense content. Martin rests his head on his hands and draws great clouds of smoke from his short pipe, from time to time emitting a sound which is something of a laugh, something of a growl.
Johannes has quite buried himself in the mass of foliage and lets the tendrils of the wild vine play about his face. They tremble and flutter with his every breath. ”

“ A beastlike roaring pierces through the night, above the fury of the storm. "It is Martin," says Johannes, staggering back three paces.
But he collects himself quickly, clutches Trude and drags her with him close up to the woodwork at the weir, in the darkest shadow of which they both crouch down.
Close to their heads the infuriated man races along. The axe, lifted on high, glints in the half-light of the foam. On the other side of the weir he stops. He seems to be gazing searchingly across the wide meadow, which spreads before him in monotonous darkness without tree or shrub. ”

“ Who can that be? Does she belong to the mill? Perhaps a new maid! Hardly that, though, for she looks too smart, too neat; her shoes are too light, her apron too dainty, the white kerchief so picturesquely draped round her head is of too fine a texture. If only she would not so completely shade her face! Now she looks up! Good heavens, what a sweet girl! How her bonny cheeks glow, how her dark eyes gleam, how her pouting lips seem to invite a kiss!
As she perceives him, she drops her hoe and stares at him. ”

“ He must ponder over his happiness in solitude.
In the afternoon the brothers go together into the mill. Trude stands at the window and looks after them, and, when Johannes turns around, she smiles and hides behind the curtain. On the threshold Johannes stands still and leans his head against the door-post, and deep emotion fills him as he gazes into the semi-darkness of the dear old place from which proceeds such a din of wheels that it nearly stuns him, while the draught drives into his face great whitish-grey clouds of flour, bran-dust and steam. ”

“ Think of Fritz!
Johannes does not answer. He throws himself into a chair, buries his face in his hands and weeps bitterly.
Trude trembles in every limb. She calls him by name, puts her arm round his neck, tries to remove his hands from his face, and, when all this avails nothing, she bursts into tears herself. When he hears her sobbing, he raises his head and looks about in a dazed sort of way. His gaze rests on the clothes hanging upon the wall, boy's clothes of many years ago. He knows them well. ”

“ Trude sits on the veranda, has let her work drop into her lap and is a-dreaming. The fragrance of the flowers and the sun's hot glow have confused her senses, but she heeds not that. The flowers' fragrance and the sun's hot breath, she would love to drain all the flower-cups--if only they contained something to drink.
In the mill they have ceased working earlier than usual, for the apprentices want to go to the village to the midsummer night's fête. There is to be dancing and firing of tar-barrels and everyone will enjoy himself to the best of his ability. ”

“ Absentmindedly he slinks across the moonlit yard,--strokes the dogs that with joyous barking drag at their chains,--casts an indifferent glance towards the motionless mill-wheel, beneath the shadows of which the waters glide along like glittering snakes. Some indefinable impulse drives him forward and away. The ground of the mill-yard burns beneath his feet. He wanders across the meadows, back to the weir--to the spot where he was sitting with Trude. On the grass there gleams her blue silk shoe, and not far from it lies her long, fine stocking. ”

“ Next day Johannes fetches down his working-clothes. They are a bit tight across the shoulders. But then, one gets broader.
The sun is already high in the heavens. As if it could shine so brightly, right into one's heart, anywhere else!--The sun of home is a wonderful thing. What it looks upon, it gilds, and when it touches one's lips, they begin to sing.
"It is lovely at home--hurrah!"
"Now I have a nest of merry birds in the house," laughs Martin, coming to greet him. "Go on singing. I am used to that from Trude--but what are you doing in that white coat?" ”

“ He staggers, he cries out,--and clutching hold of the main beam, he manages by sheer force to stem its movement just as the gap is opening. Trude has turned as white as a sheet, she stares speechlessly at him, as, gasping for breath, he gazes down into the dark abyss.
"I didn't--think of that, Hans," she stammers with a look which very eloquently pleads forgiveness.
He laughs out loud. A wild, devil-may-care feeling of happiness has come over him. ”

“ He grows somewhat oppressed in this close, dimly-lighted place--he breathes heavily--he longs for light and fresh air.--But Trude feels all the more comfortable in this vapor-laden atmosphere, in this mysterious twilight, where through the closed shutters stray slanting sunbeams glide like golden streamers onto the floor, and form a play-ground for myriads of little dancing particles of dust. The tremor which fills her is just to her liking;--she crouches down, then stealthily creeps up the stairs as if on the lookout for ghosts. ”

“ The flashing carriage, drawn by a pair of splendid Lithuanian bays, is the Rockhammer state coach, which Martin had had built for his wedding. Sitting within it--that white figure reclining with such proud dignity in one corner, and looking about with such distant seriousness--that is she, "the rich mistress of Rockhammer," as the people all round are whispering to each other.
"Look--Trude is giving herself airs," says Martin softly, pulling Johannes' sleeve. ”

“ Johannes does not reply. He will soon convince his brother of better things--and closing his eyes, he buries his head once more in the waving foliage. A gleam of light causes him to look up. Trude is standing on the threshold, holding a lamp and looking ashamed of herself. Her charming, childlike face is bathed in a red glow and the drooping lashes cast long, semi-circling shadows on her full cheeks.
"What a ridiculous creature you are!" says Martin, stroking her ruffled hair tenderly. ”

“ Those flowers prevent him which Trude has placed at his bed-side, and the leaves of which hang right over the edge of the bed. Pale bluish bunches of lilac and the nebulous white stars of narcissi are mingled together. He turns round, kneels up in bed and buries his face in the flowery depths. Fondly the leaflets kiss his eye-lids and his lips.
Suddenly he listens. From underneath the floor, as it were from the bowels of the earth, comes a quiet laugh. It is soft as a breath of wind passing over the grass, but so merry, so full of happiness. ”

“ Outside the rain beats against the windowpanes, autumn blasts are soughing around the housetop, and every gust of wind, every drop of rain, seems to proclaim:
"He will come back! He will come back!" The how's pass; the lamp goes out.... Martin has fallen asleep over his waiting and is dreaming of his brother's return.
In the morning the people of the inn wake him. Haggard and shivering he looks about him. His glance falls upon the empty bed in which his brother was to have slept. The first bed since six weeks!--Sadly he stands there in front of it and stares at it. ”