LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1368, 4 July 1878, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE COMET. [•‘ Argossy.”] ( Continued .) When Blasl came homo from thePfarrer’s he list scolded his daughter well for having complained of him to Frau Barbara ; then, as a punishment, he locked her up in her rom Be had a double reason fordoing the later, for when he had assured himself that all the doors and shutters of the house were well fastened, ho lit a little lamp, removed his huge bedstead with a vigour one would not have expected in that shrivelled form, lifted the boards, and shovelled and scraped both with spade and hands until he brought his precious iron pot to light. He then tenderly lifted it out, uncovered it with one trembling hand, and approached the lamp with the other to let the contents sparkle in its rays, his tear* streaming down upon the gold as he did so. When he had wept over it to his heart's content he covered it up, buried it again, and put everything over it in its accustomed place. Then he blew out the light opened the shutteas, and went ab mt his day’s work with a heavy heart. The days ran on; people’s most fervent wishes could not keep one of them back; and as the dreaded time approached their apprehensions grew boundless. Everybody now believed in the comet, and that it would bring the end of the world with it! The peasants were not so much afraid for their own lives—they knew that death might take them by surprise at any time they grieved for the impending destruction of all their earthly possessions, the fruit of not their own labour only, but of that of their fathers and grandfathers for many generations back, and which they had always hoped to leave behind them to their children and children’s children. Whatever they now looked on seemed to preach to them of the vanity of all earthly pride; whatever each used to take the greatest delight in became now the source of the bitterest grief Thus one would look with tearful eyes on the ranges of well-cured hams and sausages in his larder, agonized by the thought that no one would enjoy those stored up dainties in the future Another would walk about his field, shaking his head mournfully at the plentifu corn doomed before it was ripe for the scythe A third lamented over the fine old trees in his wood ; there was not even time left for cutting them down and marketing the tim her ; and if it could bo done, where would be the use ? Mon grew lax in their work, maidens gave up spinning for their marriage outfits, women neglected their housbolda, children had dreams about the comet’s arrival.

The good Pfarrer had prayers said to calm their minds ; the schoolmaster visited from house to house with comforting words ; all was of no avail; the panic grew with the flying hours, and reached its climax when the awful day arrived The 12th of August dawned upon them rather sultry and heavy; there was something oppressive in the a ; r that added to their alarm. Every passing hour increased their anguish. A thick i g, which covered parts of the country at nightfall—a quite unheard-of-phenomenon at this season—terrified them. Anxiously they watched the gradual dying out of daylight. Would it ever dawn upon them again ? As if hy com non accord, they all expected the comet in the night; it never struck them that it might iu its career meet the earth in the daytime ; and it seemed most natural in a comet to fix upon midnight for its extraordinary performance as all unearthly appearances have ever come at that critical moment, when one day meets another to part in the same instant for ever. No one would go to bed on that night; that was the tacit agreement. The inn was crowded that evening. Most of those who had no particular home to take ca*-e of assembled there, to work themselves up by drink and talk fo that pitch of courage necessary to meet such an event as this '•ome of the younger men tried with fun and jokes to raise the dismal tone of the conversation at first indulged in. They laughed, sang, dr*nk. and played, and were the merrier as they believed it was for the last time they had met together in their favorite place of resort. But fathers and sons kept at home with their owe people Now and then a friend or relation would look in, trying both to bring and carry away better cheer Neighbours agreed to watch together } all the doors stood open, the windows were bright, the whole village presented a most unusual aspect After nightfall the fog cleared away, and the stars twinkled with uncommon brightness, as people thought, and many an anxiously inquiring glance was sent up towards them Blasl’a house was one of the dullest on that night; the old miser could not, even on the bnnk of death, go to the expense of an extra candle. The lamp flickered dismally on the hearth. He kept his shutters closed, and only opened the door now and then, putting his head out to see whether Steffl was coming. Steffi ! hia sdace, hia help, bis comfort. He had kept up the o’d man’s spirits by re peatedly assuring him that there was no comet coming. He had promised to keep watch with them through that anxi us night. Hut he had only been with them for one minute in the morning, and had not returned. At dusk Lenz had suddenly stood at Blasl’s door. Maria gave a little shriek, and would have run to meet him, but Blaal stepped between the two lovers * What dost thou want here V he cried. * I want to shake hands with you and Maria ; it may be for the last time in this world, you know.’ ‘ Nonsense,’ cried Blasl, angry; ‘thou art not on any pretence to come m or to spsak to my daughter. Let me shut the door.’ ‘ Nay, Blasl,’ said the young n an, * I have done nothing to forego your esteem. Why refuse me the little favour I ask for ?’ ‘ Uet thee hence, I say !’ ‘ Tou ought not to behave like that; it is a solemn night. Think < f what may come !' ‘ I do not need to teach me what to think. I am master here, and I forbid thee to look at my daughter any 1 nger. Away !’ ‘Nay, father,’said Maria, gently push-ng past him, ‘ there is no harm in shak'ng hands with an old friend Here s my hand, Lenz. Oh ! if the world would but come to an end this night ’ Lenz's eyes fi led, with burning tears as he grasped her hand and looked cJoae into her haggard, tearworn face. But old Blasl, exasperated, tor* them asunder and banged the door in Lenz’s face. As the young man hastened away, not minding whithe- his steps led him, he met the schoolmaster ‘ Uo not go far away.’ said he. after having listened to Lenz’s account of his visit to Biasl. ‘ Keep in the neighborhood This is a strange night, and things may happen we are not looking for Maria may have need of thee.’ Blasl did not attempt to hide his dis appointment on seeing the schoolmaster enter instead of the expected Bteiil, But Herr Schmitt took no notice ; he talked to the daughter, who sat weeping in the darkest corner of the room. Poor Maria began to rally by-and-by. After all everything was not lost; she was not StefH’s wife > et, and the comet might step between them for aught anyone could say. Steffi could not trouble her in the other world : she felt as sure of that as of being united to Lenz there. How she hoped and wished for the end of the world —surely the only one who did so! Meanwhile her father kept running up and down, mumbling to himself in a wild incoherent way, opening and shutting the door a dozen times in succession. No Steffl came. Other friends dropped in—not because they cared far Blasl who had scorned their fear all the past an'ions weeks—but on acc nut of his daughter, whom they would not forsake iu such an extremity. Everybody agreed ttere was something wonderful in the appearance of the sky,

although thov could not explain -what it wap, and their '’onnitions were contradictory. Fear magnified whac they saw, and their imagination worked upon the leant incident. ‘ Did you see that ?’ ‘.See what V 1 The shooting stars —c uite a shower of stars. That must be the beginning of - ’ They pressed to the door. The schoolmaster took Maria near the window, and opened the shutter to see whether there would be any more falling stars. Blanl alone would not look out: he stood in the middle of the room, tearing his hair and crying for StelU. ‘ Steffl?’said the last comer, ‘has he not been here ? He left us at the inn hours ago, saying he was going to you. Where in the world can he be ?’ *He had had several glasses of wine,’ said another; ‘but that couldn't Imre hurt him. He is used to more.’ * Do you mean to say Stefil has not been seen since dusk ?’ enquired one, looking in through the window. ‘ I think then he has left the Tillage.’ ‘ Left the village !’ shrieked Blaal. * Tou are mad, man : what can you mean ?’ ITo he continued.)