Produced by David Widger
THE STORY OF THE LITTLE MAMSELL
By Charlotte Niese
Translated from the German by Miss E. C. Emerson
"Have you got something good? Then put the basket down and go alonghome!" This was one usual greeting from old Mahlmann when we broughthim provisions. He was very old, and rarely out of his bed, only now andthen on warm summer days he sat on the bench before his tiny cottage andbasked in the sun. If a painter had ever strayed to our uninterestinglittle town he would certainly have put old Mahlmann's characteristichead on his canvas. He had a clever old face with a firm mouth andglittering eyes whose expression was so sombre and at the same timeobservant that we children imagined old Mahlmann was different fromother people. And indeed so he was. To begin with he never thankedanyone for bringing him food; in fact he criticized freely the benefitshe received. If one brought what was not to his liking, he would say:"Go home and tell your mother old Mahlmann is not a waste-tub where youthrow what's not fit to eat. You needn't come again either!"
In this manner he got himself into disfavor with many a good housewife,who would protest by all that was holy that never would she send thehoary old sinner anything again. But Mahlmann never cared. His needswere few and there was always some one to satisfy them.
For me the old man with the sombre eyes had a peculiar fascination; Ithink from the fact that he once told me a wonderful ghost-story. Therewere at least half a dozen witches and a whole dozen ghosts in thistale, and for many nights after I went to bed in tears, and only oncondition some one sat with me till I fell asleep. Still the spell ofthese horrors was so strong upon me that I visited Mahlmann all themore" and often bought him something out of my own slender pocket-moneyto induce him to tell stories. I was not always successful, for the oldman had morose moods, when he spoke little. At other times he would tellus his own experiences, and his life had not lacked variety. He had beenin Paris at the time of the Revolution, as servant to a Danish officerof high rank, and his description "how the fine gentlemen all rode in anold butcher's cart to have their heads chopped off," left nothing to theimagination. "My Baron was once near going himself to the 'Gartine,'or whatever they call it," he told me one day when he was especiallytalkative; "but he got well out of it. He was one that could turn theheads of the women, and it was a woman got him safely out of the city."
Mahlmann sat on the bench before the door and stretched his skinny handsto the sun. About his shoulders he had a ragged coat which had oncebeen red, but was now a coat of many colors. It was so hot that Itook shelter in the shadow of the doorway, but the chilly old man wasshivering. I had brought him a great piece of cake and now offered it tohim. He slowly reached for it, and slowly ate it up.
"That's like what I used to get in Paris. Dear me! My Baron was ahandsome man, and for my age, I must have been about fifteen, I was asharp lad--only I couldn't rightly understand their French lingo, whichput me out. But I understood the affair of the little Mamsell wellenough. She lived opposite; her father was a grocer and she helped inthe shop. At first we didn't buy anything there, till a long-leggedEnglishman told my Baron that this grocer kept a fine Hungarian wine. Itwas out of the King's wine-cellar and he wasn't drinking any more winebecause he had gone to the 'Gartine/ And a few sensible people haddivided the wine, which was only right, and it was to be had very cheap.Then I went over and bought some. Mamsell Manon was in the shop, andlaughed till she cried over my way of speaking. Then I got angry, andwhen I brought my Baron the wine I said that I wasn't going again tothat stupid Mamsell who couldn't even understand German. The next day mymaster was for sending me again, but I rebelled. 'Herr Baron,' I said,'you can give me the whip because I'm only a servant, but I won't goagain to that silly girl opposite, and if you make me I'll accuse you tothe authorities of being an aristocrat. We're all free and equal now, Ican understand that much French, and I'll be sorry if you have to go tothe "Gartine," but I won't be ill-treated!'
"My Baron looked at me queerly, but he listened to reason, and I didn'thave to go to the Mamsell again because he went himself. And then hemade friends with Mamsell Manon, and she came over and brought theKing's wine herself. When I knew her better she wasn't bad; she laugheda good deal, and sang all the time like a little bird, but one can't goagainst nature. And she was a good girl too, for once when my Baron puthis arm around her and tried to kiss her, she boxed his ears. I neverknew my master could look such a fool. The fine gentlemen don't alwaysget their way."
Mahlmann nodded once or twice and ate some crumbs of cake before he wenton.
"No, they don't always get their way," he continued. "My Baron wantedto stay longer in Paris, though many of his noble friends lay alreadyin the lime-pit with their heads off. He didn't want to go away, andsat half the day in the shop with Mamsell Manon, and said a Dane wasn'tafraid of the French--they'd not do anything to him! Things never turnout as one expects, and one evening my Baron was fetched away by acouple of long soldiers. That was unpleasant I can tell you. My masterhad been at me sometimes with the whip, and I didn't care speciallyabout him; but to be all alone in such a crazy town where there's not aChristian that understands a word you say, it's enough to give you thehorrors. Then the next morning Mamsell Manon came and talked to me, andcried dreadfully, and stroked my cheeks, and I understood her all rightin spite of that jabbering French. Mamsell thought a cousin of hers hadgot the Baron put in prison, because he was jealous. I don't know whatmore she said, but I soon found out what she wanted, and my hair stoodon end. She wanted to borrow my confirmation suit that I had only had onthree times; once at the confirmation, then for communion, and then whenI came to the Baron to apply for the place. It was lying in my trunkbecause I had always worn livery, and when the French wouldn't haveliveries any more, the Baron gave me an old gray suit of his. WhenMamsell insisted upon having my best clothes I naturally said, 'nong,nong,' and shook my head till I was dizzy, but Manon patted me andcoaxed me, and sure as the world she got her way, as women alwaysdo. All at once I had got my trunk unlocked and she ran away with myconfirmation coat and all the rest of the tilings. And I was stilllooking after her with my mouth open, when she came back dressed like aman!"
Mahlmann was silent for a moment and wrapped himself with a shiver inhis red coat.
"Dear me! how cold it always is now; it used to be warm in July. Thingsnever turn out as one expects. The little Mamseli had promised mefaithfully I should have my good clothes back--yes, indeed--bless you!But I must say she looked downright pretty in my best black suit, and Isaw why she hadn't worn clothes of the Baron's, or of her own father's.He was short and fat, and the Baron was tall and broad-shouldered,and the little one would not have looked well in their things. Now shelooked like a real boy, and like two boys we ran to one of the manyprisons where the aristocrats were, I With a basket and she with abasket, with bread and writing-paper, and we took them to the wifeof one of the gaolers who earned a lot of money by selling them. Thearistocrats were always writing letters, which shows what do-nothingsthey were; for an honest man has a tongue to talk with, and doesn't needto make marks on paper to kill time. We went to the great prison two orthree times; I stayed outside because I was afraid, but Mamseli Manonwent in and talked with the gaolers. What more she did I don't know;I waited outside and thought of my confirmation suit, for the littleMamseli wasn't very careful of it. She had had it three days and tookit home with her, and I never knew where it was when she was in the shopwith her ordinary clothes on. It was always dark when we went out, thenshe'd come for me and we'd start* I must say she always brought me some*thing, a drop of wine or a bit of cake. The evening of the fourth daywhen I was waiting for her at the gate of the prison, someone seizedho
ld of my shoulder and said in German, 'Forward!' It was my Baron whostood before me all at once and was in a devil of a hurry to get away.'Franz!' he said to me, 'be quick or I am lost!' 'Where is the littleMamsell?' I asked, 'and where is my confirmation suit?' Then he grabbedme by the arm and dragged me through the streets till I was out ofbreath. 'She will come,' he said half to himself, 'to-morrow the mistakewill be cleared up, when I am out of the city. Her father will saveher.' But though he was still pulling me along, I stopped short. 'HerrBaron,' I said, 'the little Mamsell has got on my best black suit, andthe trousers were made out of the Herr Pastor's own,