Books
as one who watches by his beloved dead and prints the
features on his memory for a solace in the aftertime
of empty desolation, his daughter sprang into the room
and gently woke him, saying -
"My presentiment was true! She will save us.
Three times has she appeared to me in my dreams, and said,
'Go to the Herr Givenaught, go to the Herr Heartless,
ask them to come and bid.' There, did I not tell you she
would save us, the thrice blessed Virgin!"
Sad as the old man was, he was obliged to laugh.
"Thou mightest as well appeal to the rocks their
castles stand upon as to the harder ones that lie
in those men's breasts, my child. THEY bid on books
writ in the learned tongues! - they can scarce read their own."
But Hildegarde's faith was in no wise shaken.
Bright and early she was on her way up the Neckar road,
as joyous as a bird.
Meantime Herr Givenaught and Herr Heartless were having
an early breakfast in the former's castle - the Sparrow's
Nest - and flavoring it with a quarrel; for although
these twins bore a love for each other which almost
amounted to worship, there was one subject upon which they
could not touch without calling each other hard names
- and yet it was the subject which they oftenest touched upon.
"I tell you," said Givenaught, "you will beggar yourself
yet with your insane squanderings of money upon
what you choose to consider poor and worthy objects.
All these years I have implored you to stop this foolish
custom and husband your means, but all in vain.
You are always lying to me about these secret benevolences,
but you never have managed to deceive me yet. Every time
a poor devil has been set upon his feet I have detected
your hand in it - incorrigible ass!"
"Every time you didn't set him on his feet yourself,
you mean. Where I give one unfortunate a little private lift,
you do the same for a dozen. The idea of YOUR swelling
around the country and petting yourself with the nickname
of Givenaught - intolerable humbug! Before I would be
such a fraud as that, I would cut my right hand off.
Your life is a continual lie. But go on, I have tried MY
best to save you from beggaring yourself by your riotous
charities - now for the thousandth time I wash my hands
of the consequences. A maundering old fool! that's
what you are."
"And you a blethering old idiot!" roared Givenaught,
springing up.
"I won't stay in the presence of a man who has no more
delicacy than to call me such names. Mannerless swine!"
So saying, Herr Heartless sprang up in a passion.
But some lucky accident intervened, as usual, to change
the subject, and the daily quarrel ended in the customary
daily living reconciliation. The gray-headed old
eccentrics parted, and Herr Heartless walked off to his
own castle.
Half an hour later, Hildegarde was standing in the presence
of Herr Givenaught. He heard her story, and said -
"I am sorry for you, my child, but I am very poor,
I care nothing for bookish rubbish, I shall not be there."
He said the hard words kindly, but they nearly broke poor
Hildegarde's heart, nevertheless. When she was gone
the old heartbreaker muttered, rubbing his hands -
"It was a good stroke. I have saved my brother's pocket
this time, in spite of him. Nothing else would have
prevented his rushing off to rescue the old scholar,
the pride of Germany, from his trouble. The poor child
won't venture near HIM after the rebuff she has received
from his brother the Givenaught."
But he was mistaken. The Virgin had commanded,
and Hildegarde would obey. She went to Herr Heartless
and told her story. But he said coldly -
"I am very poor, my child, and books are nothing to me.
I wish you well, but I shall not come."
When Hildegarde was gone, he chuckled and said -
"How my fool of a soft-headed soft-hearted brother would
rage if he knew how cunningly I have saved his pocket.
How he would have flown to the old man's rescue! But the
girl won't venture near him now."
When Hildegarde reached home, her father asked her how she
had prospered. She said -
"The Virgin has promised, and she will keep her word;
but not in the way I thought. She knows her own ways,
and they are best."
The old man patted her on the head, and smiled a doubting
smile, but he honored her for her brave faith, nevertheless.
II
Next day the people assembled in the great hall
of the Ritter tavern, to witness the auction - for
the proprietor had said the treasure of Germany's most
honored son should be bartered away in no meaner place.
Hildegarde and her father sat close to the books,
silent and sorrowful, and holding each other's hands.
There was a great crowd of people present. The bidding began -
"How much for this precious library, just as it stands,
all complete?" called the auctioneer.
"Fifty pieces of gold!"
"A hundred!"
"Two hundred."
"Three!"
"Four!"
"Five hundred!"
"Five twenty-five."
A brief pause.
"Five forty!"
A longer pause, while the auctioneer redoubled his persuasions.
"Five-forty-five!"
A heavy drag - the auctioneer persuaded, pleaded,
implored - it was useless, everybody remained silent -
"Well, then - going, going - one - two - "
"Five hundred and fifty!"
This in a shrill voice, from a bent old man, all hung
with rags, and with a green patch over his left eye.
Everybody in his vicinity turned and gazed at him.
It was Givenaught in disguise. He was using a disguised
voice, too.
"Good!" cried the auctioneer. "Going, going - one - two - "
"Five hundred and sixty!"
This, in a deep, harsh voice, from the midst of the
crowd at the other end of the room.
