



Produced by Joyce Wilson and David Widger









THE BROKEN CUP

By Johann Heinrich Daniel Zschokke

Translated by P. G.

Copyright, 1891, by The Current Literature Publishing Company


Author's Note.--There is extant under this name a short piece by the
author of "Little Kate of Heilbronn." That and the tale which here
follows originated in an incident which took place at Bern in the year
1802. Henry von Kleist and Ludwig Wieland, the son of the poet, were
both friends of the writer, in whose chamber hung an engraving called
_La Cruche Cassee_, the persons and contents of which resembled the
scene set forth below, under the head of The Tribunal. The drawing,
which was full of expression, gave great delight to those who saw it,
and led to many conjectures as to its meaning. The three friends agreed,
in sport, that they would each one day commit to writing his peculiar
interpretation of its design. Wieland promised a satire; Von Kleist
threw off a comedy; and the author of the following tale what is here
given.





MARIETTA.

NAPOULE, it is true, is only a very little place on the bay of Cannes;
yet it is pretty well known through all Provence. It lies in the shade
of lofty evergreen palms, and darker orange trees; but that alone would
not make it renowned. Still they say that there are grown the most
luscious grapes, the sweetest roses, and the handsomest girls. I don't
know but it is so; in the mean time I believe it most readily. Pity that
Napoule is so small, and can not produce more luscious grapes, fragrant
roses, and handsome maidens; especially, as we might then have some of
them transplanted to our own country.

As, ever since the foundation of Napoule, all the Napoulese women have
been beauties, so the little Marietta was a wonder of wonders, as the
chronicles of the place declare. She was called the _little_ Marietta; yet
she was not smaller than a girl of seventeen or thereabout ought to be,
seeing that her forehead just reached up to the lips of a grown man.

The chronicles aforesaid had very good ground for speaking of Marietta.
I, had I stood in the shoes of the chronicler, would have done the
same. For Marietta, who until lately had lived with her mother Manon
at Avignon, when she came back to her birthplace, quite upset the whole
village. Verily, not the houses, but the people and their heads; and not
the heads of all the people, but of those particularly whose heads and
hearts are always in danger when in the neighborhood of two bright eyes.
I know very well that such a position is no joke.

Mother Manon would have done much better if she had remained at Avignon.
But she had been left a small inheritance, by which she received at
Napoule an estate consisting of some vine-hills, and a house that lay in
the shadow of a rock, between certain olive trees and African acacias.
This is a kind of thing which no unprovided widow ever rejects; and,
accordingly, in her own estimation, she was as rich and happy as though
she were the Countess of Provence or something like it.

So much the worse was it for the good people of Napoule. They never
suspected their misfortune, not having read in Homer how a single pretty
woman had filled all Greece and Lesser Asia with discord and war.




HOW THE MISFORTUNE CAME ABOUT.

Marietta had scarcely been fourteen days in the house, between the olive
trees and the African acacias, before every young man of Napoule knew
that she lived there, and that there lived not, in all Provence, a more
charming girl than the one in that house.

Went she through the village, sweeping lightly along like a dressed-up
angel, her frock, with its pale-green bodice, and orange leaves and
rosebuds upon the bosom of it, fluttering in the breeze, and flowers
and ribbons waving about the straw bonnet, which shaded her beautiful
features--yes, then the grave old men spake out, and the young ones were
struck dumb. And everywhere, to the right and left, little windows and
doors were opened with a "Good morning," or a "Good evening, Marietta,"
as it might be, while she nodded to the right and left with a pleasant
smile.

If Marietta walked into church, all hearts (that is, of the young
people) forgot Heaven; all eyes turned from the saints, and the
worshiping finger wandered idly among the pearls of the rosary. This
must certainly have provoked much sorrow, at least, among the more
devout.

The maidens of Napoule particularly became very pious about this time,
for they, most of all, took the matter to heart. And they were not to
be blamed for it; for since the advent of Marietta more than one
prospective groom had become cold, and more than one worshipper of some
beloved one quite inconstant. There were bickerings and reproaches on
all sides, many tears, pertinent lectures, and even rejections. The talk
was no longer of marriages, but of separations. They began to return
their pledges of troth, rings, ribbons, etc. The old persons took part
with their children; criminations and strife spread from house to house;
it was most deplorable.

Marietta is the cause of all, said the pious maidens first; then the
mothers said it; next the fathers took it up; and finally all--even the
young men. But Marietta, shielded by her modesty and innocence, like
the petals of the rosebud in its dark-green calix, did not suspect
the mischief of which she was the occasion, and continued courteous to
everybody. This touched the young men, who said, "Why condemn the pure
and harmless child--she is not guilty!" Then the fathers said the same
thing; then the mothers took it up, and finally all--even the pious
maidens. For, let who would talk with Marietta, she was sure to gain
their esteem. So before half a year had passed, everybody had spoken to
her, and everybody loved her. But she did not suspect that she was the
object of such general regard, as she had not before suspected that she
was the object of dislike. Does the violet, hidden in the downtrodden
grass, think how sweet it is?

Now every one wished to make amends for the injustice they had done
Marietta. Sympathy deepened the tenderness of their attachment. Marietta
found herself greeted everywhere in a more friendly way than ever; she
was more cordially welcomed; more heartily invited to the rural sports
and dances.




ABOUT THE WICKED COLIN.

All men, however, are not endowed with tender sympathy; some have
hearts hardened like Pharaoh's. This arises, no doubt, from that natural
depravity which has come upon men in consequence of the fall of Adam, or
because, at their baptism, the devil is not brought sufficiently under
subjection.

A remarkable example of this hardness of heart was given by one Colin,
the richest farmer and proprietor in Napoule, whose vineyards and olive
gardens, whose lemon and orange trees could hardly be counted in a day.
One thing particularly demonstrates the perverseness of his disposition;
he was twenty-seven years old, and had never yet asked for what purpose
girls had been created!

True, all the people, especially damsels of a certain age, willingly
forgave him this sin, and looked upon him as one of the best young men
under the sun. His fine figure, his fresh, unembarrassed manner, his
look, his laugh, enabled him to gain the favorable opinion of the
aforesaid people, who would have forgiven him, had there been occasion,
any one of the deadly sins. But the decision of such judges is not
always to be trusted. While both old and young at Napoule had become
reconciled to the innocent Marietta, and proffered their sympathies
to her, Colin was the only one who had no pity upon the poor child. If
Marietta was talked of he became as dumb as a fish. If he met her in the
street he would turn red and white with anger, and cast sidelong glances
at her of the most malicious kind.

If at evening the young people met upon the seashore near the old castle
ruins for sprightly pastimes, or rural dances, or to sing catches,
Colin was the merriest among them. But as soon as Marietta arrived the
rascally fellow was silent, and all the gold in the world couldn't
make him sing.--What a pity, when he had such a fine voice! Everybody
listened to it so willingly, and its store of songs was endless.

All the maidens looked kindly upon Colin, and he was friendly with all
of them. He had, as we have said, a roguish glance, which the lasses
feared and loved; and it was so sweet they would like to have had it
painted. But, as might naturally be expected, the offended Marietta
did not look graciously upon him. And in that he was perfectly right.
Whether he smiled or not, it was all the same to her. As to his roguish
glance, why she would never hear it mentioned; and therein too she
was perfectly right. When he told a tale (and he knew thousands) and
everybody listened, she nudged her neighbor, or perhaps threw tufts of
grass at Peter or Paul, and laughed and chattered, and did not listen to
Colin at all. This behavior quite provoked the proud fellow, so that he
would break off in the middle of his story and stalk sullenly away.

Revenge is sweet. The daughter of Mother Manon well knew how to triumph.
Yet Marietta was a right good child and quite too tenderhearted. If
Colin was silent, it gave her pain. If he was downcast, she laughed no
more. If he went away, she did not stay long behind: but hurried to her
home, and wept tears of repentance, more beautiful than those of the
Magdalen, although she had not sinned like the Magdalen.




THE CUP.

Father Jerome, the pastor of Napoule, was an old man of seventy, who
possessed all the virtues of a saint, and only one failing; which was,
that by reason of his advanced years, he was hard of hearing. But, on
that very account, his homilies were more acceptable to the children of
his baptism and blessing. True, he preached only of two subjects, as if
they comprehended the whole of religion. It was either "Little children,
love one another," or it was "Mysterious are the ways of Providence."
And truly there is so much Faith, Love, and Hope in these that one might
at a pinch be saved by them. The little children loved one another most
obediently, and trusted in the ways of Providence. Only Colin, with his
flinty heart, would know nothing of either: for even when he professed
to be friendly, he entertained the deepest malice.

The Napoulese went to the annual market or fair of the city of Vence.
It was truly a joyful time, and though they had but little gold to buy
with, there were many goods to look at. Now Marietta and Mother Manon
went to the fair with the rest, and Colin was also there. He bought a
great many curiosities and trifles for his friends--but he would not
spend a farthing for Marietta. And yet he was always at her elbow,
though he did not speak to her, nor she to him. It was easy to see that
he was brooding over some scheme of wickedness.

Mother Manon stood gazing before a shop, when she suddenly exclaimed:

"Oh! Marietta, see that beautiful cup! A queen would not be ashamed to
raise it to her lips. Only see: the edge is of dazzling gold, and the
flowers upon it could not bloom more beautifully in the garden, although
they are only painted. And in the midst of this Paradise! pray see,
Marietta, how the apples are smiling on the trees. They are verily
tempting. And Adam cannot withstand it, as the enchanting Eve offers
him one for food! And do see how prettily the little frisking lamb skips
around the old tiger, and the snow-white dove with her golden throat
stands there before the vulture, as if she would caress him."

Marietta could not satisfy herself with looking. "Had I such a cup,
mother!" said she, "it is far too beautiful to drink out of: I would
place my flowers in it and constantly peep into Paradise. We are at the
fair in Vence, but when I look on the picture I feel as if I were in
Paradise."

So spoke Marietta, and called her companions to the spot, to share her
admiration of the cup: but the young men soon joined the maidens, until
at length almost half the inhabitants of Napoule were assembled before
the wonderfully beautiful cup. But miraculously beautiful was it mainly
from its inestimable, translucent porcelain, with gilded handles and
glowing colors. They asked the merchant timidly: "Sir, what is the price
of it?" And he answered: "Among friends, it is worth a hundred livres."
Then they all became silent, and went away in despair. When the
Napoulese were all gone from the front of the shop, Colin came there by
stealth, threw the merchant a hundred livres upon the counter, had the
cup put in a box well packed with cotton, and then carried it off. What
evil plans he had in view no one would have surmised.

Near Napoule, on his way home, it being already dusk, he met old
Jacques, the Justice's servant, returning from the fields. Jacques was a
very good man, but excessively stupid.

"I will give thee money enough to get something to drink, Jacques," said
Colin, "if thou wilt bear this box to Manon's house, and leave it there;
and if any one should see thee, and inquire from whom the box came, say
'A stranger gave it to me.' But never disclose my name, or I will always
detest thee."

Jacques promised this, took the drink-money and the box, and went with
it toward the little dwelling between the olive trees and the African
acacias.




THE CARRIER.

Before he arrived there he encountered his master, Justice Hautmartin,
who asked; "Jacques, what art thou carrying?"

"A box for Mother Manon. But, sir, I cannot say from whom it comes."

"Why not?"

"Because Colin would always detest me."

"It is well that thou canst keep a secret. But it is already late; give
me the box, for I am going to-morrow to see Mother Manon; I will deliver
it to her and not betray that it came from Colin. It will save thee a
walk, and furnish me a good excuse for calling on the old lady."

Jacques gave the box to his master, whom he was accustomed to obey
implicitly in all things. The justice bore it into his chamber, and
examined it by the light with some curiosity. On the lid was neatly
written with red chalk: "For the lovely and dear Marietta." But Monsieur
Hautmartin well knew that this was some of Colin's mischief, and that
some knavish trick lurked under the whole. He therefore opened the box
carefully for fear that a mouse or rat should be concealed within.
When he beheld the wondrous cup, which he had seen at Vence, he was
dreadfully shocked, for Monsieur Hautmartin was a skilful casuist, and
knew that the inventions and devices of the human heart are evil from
our youth upward. He saw at once that Colin designed this cup as a
means of bringing misfortune upon Marietta: perhaps to give out, when it
should be in her possession, that it was the present of some successful
lover in the town, or the like, so that all decent people would
thereafter keep aloof from Marietta. Therefore Monsieur Hautmartin
resolved, in order to prevent any evil reports, to profess himself
the giver. Moreover, he loved Marietta, and would gladly have seen her
observe more strictly toward himself the sayings of the gray-headed
priest Jerome, "Little children, love one another." In truth, Monsieur
Hautmartin was a little child of fifty years old, and Marietta did
not think the saying applied particularly to him. Mother Manon, on the
contrary, thought that the justice was a clever little child, he had
gold and a high reputation from one end of Napoule to the other. And
when the justice spoke of marriage, and Marietta ran away in affright,
Mother Manon remained sitting, and had no fear for the tall, staid
gentleman. It must also be confessed there were no faults in his person.
And although Colin might be the handsomest man in the village, yet the
justice far surpassed him in two things, namely, in the number of years,
and in a very, very big nose. Yes, this nose, which always went before
the justice like a herald to proclaim his approach, was a real elephant
among human noses.

With this proboscis, his good purpose, and the cup, the justice went the
following morning to the house between the olive trees and the African
acacias.

"For the beautiful Marietta," said he, "I hold nothing too costly.
Yesterday you admired the cup at Vence; to-day allow me, lovely
Marietta, to lay it and my devoted heart at your feet."

Manon and Marietta were transported beyond measure when they beheld the
cup. Manon's eyes glistened with delight, but Marietta turned and said:
"I can neither take your heart nor your cup."

Then Mother Marion was angry, and cried out: "But I accept both heart
and cup. Oh, thou little fool, how long wilt thou despise thy good
fortune! For whom dost thou tarry? Will a count of Provence make thee
his bride, that thou scornest the Justice of Napoule? I know better how
to look after my interests. Monsieur Hautmartin, I deem it an honor to
call thee my son-in-law."

Then Marietta went