Conrad and Christine.

Otago Witness, Issue 1751, 13 June 1885, Page 25

Conrad an d Christine.

A great, strapping, muscnlar fellow was Conrad Midbnrger, and he was admitted to be the best danoer and swordsman in the village. His complexion waß darker than that of most of hia neighbours* for there was a tradition of Magyar blood in the family, and bis face was by no means laoking in intelligence of a merry and peaceful sort. ~ The village itself had a look of having been finished long ago, but a "reader of men" might have looked at Conrad, if he saw him there, and said —

" But that fellow'B only half-done yet. He doaan't half understand himself. Pity there's nothing in this sleepy valley to wake him up." If, howaver, the process of waking up was to imply any sort or shaking, there had been little enough of that in the life which Conrad had thus far led. The greatest events of the outside world had been only as storms on the ocean, sending hardly a ripple of their uproar into the little land-locked cove of the old, dull village.

Gottlieb Midburger. Conrad's father, with his old crony and partner, Franz Hoferdahl, had made and mended watches in the same dingy and time-worn shop, where their fathers had filed and hammered before them ; and oae life was as like another, and about ao unvarying as the ticking of the fat-faced timepieces behind the cooweba in the shop window. Just now, however, a3 if the course of nature were being disturbed, various ripples were beginning to come. Rumours there were, for instance, that the King, " God preserve htm," was preparing to right a war with somebody, and that all young heroes like Conrad Mid burger would soon be needed fur the army. Stranger still, and utterly unaccountable, considering his time of life, old Franz Hcferdahl had oaught the emigration fever, and made op his steadfast mind to join the great German tide that sets perpetually towards the Bhores of America. Already he had uold whatever he had 60 sell, except bis big pipe, his flute, and bis daughter Christine, tor these be intended taking with him to the Western Eden.

" Perhaps," thought the villagers, " it's not so strange for old Franz as for some of U3. He's been lonely since his wife died, and then be was a great traveller in his younger days." That was true enough, for Franz Hoferdahl had been even to Berlin, and America could not be so very much beyond. The old man had sold his share in the shop to bis friend Gottliob, and had made as good bargains as he could for his house and movables ; but none of hiß anxious neighbours knew exactly how much of ready cash he took with him when he and hia weopiug Christine Bet out upon their long pilgrimage. Christine wept, indeed, as if she meant to ruin her pretty blue eyes entirely, for the little old village had baen very dear to her, and her mother's grave was there, If there were other reasons for her sorrow, Christine kept them to herself ; albeit she may have wondered why one person, at least, Bad not asked her a question or so concerning them.

As for Conrad Midburger, bo had said good-bye, with all tbe rest, to bis father's old friend, and to the tearful Christine ; and he bad rubbed bis gre&t black eyes afterward in a way that looked aa if the whole thing was a good deal of a dream to him. If it was, there was no help for it, since Christine and her father were far enough away before be woke up. Nevertheless, when Conrad miffed, day aft?r day, the accustomed form of old Franz in tba shop, as well as the oheery voice of Christine Hoferdabl calling her father home to dinner, the expression of his face would change at timea, and one would almost have Baid be was beginning to think. Not quite so much as that, perhaps— at least not yet; bat pretty soon Conrad's eyes took note of a growing difference in tbe ways and seeming of old Gottlieb Midburger himself. Just what it waa would have been hard to say ; but by degrees the old man came to neglect his pipe, and then his glaaa of beer, and then his work; and, finally, be took to bis bed and died ; and the neighbours said almost with one accord, " Franz Hoferdahl had broken hiß old friend's heart by going away." "Broken his heart I" said Conrad to.himBelf. *' But he did not break mine ! And I have a heart, too— l can feel it beat. And I have loved old Franz and I loved my father very much ; and I feel as if I could cry all day if I were not so very big a man " The strongest evidence that Conrad had a heart, however, was yet to come. As the days went by, after his father's death, the shop, and everything in it and about it, became utterly distasteful to him. Day after day he sat down by the bench and tried to work, but the very ticking of the watches was insufferably oppressive, while again and again he started up and dropped bis file and bis hammer in renewed astonishment at the continued absence of those two old men. "If only Christine would come," he said to himeelf, "and call old Franz home to dinner."

But ahe did nofc come, and the silence and loneliness grew more and more irksome • and 80 when, by and bye, a good customer opportunely made bis appearance, Conrad Midburger almoatly gladly closed with his offer to purchase the chop and tbe house. He sold too, everything olsa that his father had left him, except the old man's pipe and sword, and the medal his father before him had won in the old wars with the French. Neither did Conrad, any more than Franz Hoferdahl, tell any of his neighbours how great or how small waa the golden store he found himself pos89589<1 of j bat the Midbasgera haij bad bee"

a careful, saving, and close-mouthad race for I'onerations.

And when the sales were all completed and the transfers duly made, and Conrad stood in the moonlight one spring evening and gazed at the h >ma that was no longer bis, he said to himself :

" I think I could almost break my hear! now, affcer all, for I did love that house, and 1 loved the shop, but I could not stay there witb the empty places. There were far too msny voices there that did not spoak. That was it. But what shall I do now ?"

Conrad's question was answered for him by the great Frenoh Emperor and by the King ; for Napoleon had determined that he must fight the Germans, and so a great many quiet people had to march away from their homes to bo shot at without the wisest man in the village being able to give them a good reason It was a sad thing to many, but Conrad Midburger felt as if he was glad to go. He was sure he loved hia "vaderland" in every bone of' his body, and ii the King called fo.him he was ready. Still as they marched away from tbe sleepy village Conrad said to himself —

" There are the old hou3e, and tha shop, and the church steeple, and tho trees, and thr graves in the cburchyard. I did not know mj heard wa3 so big, for I'm sure I love about o very thing I see,

Ho could not eoe anything very clearly jua: then, however, for his eyoa ware strangely dim No doubt the aun waa in them, and the glint and glitter of the bayonets ; but if any one hart looked in the young man's face, he might have Bud —

" It ia a very thoughtful face, and there are lines of strength bsginning to Bhow in it," And then there followed Bwift marching, comfortless camping, all kinds of severe and trying soldier work, and a good deal of verj hard fighting. Whatever the newspapers and reports mighfc say about ib Conrad Mtdburger and his comrades learned that tho Frenchmen were brave fellows, and that the glory of beatin? them was never cheaply won. Being big and strong and brave, a good swordsman, and every day growing more and more intelligent, Conrad himaolf won glorythat is, three or four slight wounds, a medal, promotion from the ranks, the compliments of hiß commanding officer, tbe envy of bis comrades.

Before a great while be found himself almost bis own master again, though still within ttr; scope and control of army regulations, for no German of Conrad's age is ever beyond them, and he said to himself —

" Well, I love the army ; I almost lovec fighting. I know I oould love glory with all my heart. I know lam ten timer; as much it soldier as that li tie white moustacbed apa of .' baron that commanded my company. That i« it, I think I could love a country wbera thor^ were no barons. Let me see. I think my heart must have been growing a good deal during this war. There is more room in it than I knew of, and yet it is always full. I think there are some things in jt that I never aaw there in the old times, I will go and take a look at the village first, and tbe house, and tbe shop, and I will listen again to see if I car hear Christine call hor father home to dinner, Then, if I don't hear her, what thea ? Well, I think I will just ask my hearfc about ifc."

Now, all this time old Franz Hoferdahl and his daughter bad known little of what bad taken place in tho village they left behind them. They had found their pilgrimage long and weary enough, and they had reached & resting place at iaßt, and they bad written homo to tbeir old neighbours, a& all Germans do; but very little information bad come back to them. "They knew that old Gottlieb Midburger was dead, and that Conrad had given up the home and the shop, and that ho had gone co the great war wi h the French, and that was nearly all. Franz Hoferdabl had not landed on the chores of the new world a pauper in anything but youth and strength, and be found friends readily enough to take tbe place of tho old ones as far as might ba, and, after be bad got over bis first daza and bewilderment, and beoamc somewhat accustomed to the racking changes in all his habits and ways of life, ho tried to settle down as a man of property and substance, and b3 happy.

" If only old Gottlieb Midburgor were with me," he said to Christine, " I think I could do it. I would give a good deal just to see tho old fellow lay down hia pipe and look into a dirty watch."

Christine said very little, but her bright American home beeamo dreary enough at times, when she shut her eyas and let her thoughts go back to the old sleepy German village. She read ail of the accounts of the great war, too, wondeiiDg if any of her old neighbours had been it) this battta 0? that, and she listened very silently whea her father said :

"If Conrad Midburger was in any of that fighting, I'll be bound he behaved himself well. There's good blood in the Midburgere, and Conrad is a fine boy." "Ho must be n man by this time," Baid Christino.

And then she thought what a very tall finelooking man he must be, and how well he would appear in bis uniform,

But when after awhu.e there was news of peace, and they beard that tbo army was going home, to be disbanded, old Franz Hoferdahl grew strangely thoughtful, and Christine tried all in vain to arouse bim, or amuse him, until one autumn morning he said :

"AH the other old soldiers are going home. I think it is pretty near time for mo to go." " To Germany, father !" exclaimed Christine, witb a sudden light in her eyes.

"No, Christine," solemnly replied the old man; "Germany is not the only fatberland. I am a very old soldier, and I think this is my last campaign." Christine understood bim then, but all in a dreamy and unreal sort of way, until, a few weeks later, she found herself Bitting alone in the bouse, while the chilling wind that whistled by the windows was freighted witb the first white harbingers of the winters. It seemed a cold, forlorn, and empty sort of a world to Christine, and when sbe tried to think of the village where she was born, that, too, seemed empty and deserted, and she imagined the old shop shut up and the Bnowflakes beating against the spider-web window. The door bell rang, but Christine did nofc hear it, nor did she know the servant had admitted anybody until she was conscious of a heavy step almost beside her, and a deep, clear voioo, full of manly strength, but that trembled in a very thrilling and musical way, saying to her:

"Christine! Christine !"

She looked up then in tbe face — a scarred and war-bronzed face — of a tall, erect, nobie1 oking man, and whose large, dark, panetrotinpr eyes woru absolutely radiant as they looked down into her own.

'"Cfristma," he paid, "do you understand me ? I have come."

"Ha has coma !" she thought for 'one brief, burninp moment ; and ifc seemed aa if light and life, and happiness and strength, and the old German homu Laelf had come witb him. Sha now had an odd, quick fancy that the door of the old shop opened and the fjim began to shine

and she could Bee the two old men at tlnir work, but she arose and threw her arm around his neck and only said between hsr aoba, 11 Conrad, I am so happy and so glad that you have come !"

It was a sober day and a sober meeting, after •^11, but aomo hours later, as they- Bat by the jrato in the parlour whore tho fire burned warm md cheerily, while the first merry snowftakes of the opening winter flitted by the windows, and they exchanged stories of all that had happened to them, Conrad said to her : " Ah, Christine, I did not know myself whoa you went away. I did not know I had a heart, but I soon began to find it out, I found that it was a great big heart, too, with wonderful things in it. One love after another seemed to wake up and speak to me, to tell me it was ■;..ero, until at last the biggest love of all came ,0 life, and it grew and grew till it crowded out Al tho others and filled up everything, and fchen I had to come across the ocean to find you. But who would have dreamsd that you would have kept anything for me, waiting all this time for me to come? I was terribly afraid about that."

"Ob, I don't know," said Christine. "I don't understand it at all. All the while it baa seemed as if I were only waiting, waiting, and that if I waited long enough you would surely come."

" And here I am," said Conrad, " only 1 think there's a great deal more of me, somehow, bhan in thoae dear old eleepy days at home."