"Malchen, I beg of you, have I not always cared for you as a father?" But Malchen was as deep in the Rostock Times, as if her own betrothal were recorded there. "Salchen, is it my fault that the world is so bad?" But Salchen embroidered earnestly on the flesh of a little cupid, and sighed, as if it were a pity that her dear father were not the little cupid; and to fill his cup, Gustaving came in, and rattled the keys on the board, as if he was attempting to set this lovely family scene to appropriate music. But too much is too much! Human nature can bear only a limited amount; our old friend must show his refractory family that he was master in his own house, so he ran out of the room, and left them alone; he ran into the garden, as far as the sundial, but what good did it do? He had exercised his rightful power on his own flesh and blood, but he himself was no happier, for before his eyes lay the pastor's acre, the beautiful pastor's acre. And beyond lay Pumpelhagen, fair, fair Pumpelhagen, which rightfully belonged to him, for he had given for the Pastor's acre two thousand thalers, payment in advance, and how much more to Slusuhr and David, and that beggar, the Herr von Rambow! He could not bear the sight, he turned away, and looked up into the blue harvest heaven, and asked, was there no righteousness left in the world? Then came Phillipping, and tugged at his blue dress-coat,--for out of spite to his Häuning, he had kept it on, against all law and order,--and said the Herr von Rambow was there, and wished to speak to him. The Herr von Rambow? Come, wait! now he had one whom he could torment in turn, upon whom he could avenge the sufferings his family had caused him; the Herr von Rambow? wait! he was going in, but there he came himself, towards him. "Good morning, my respected Herr neighbor, how are you? I wanted to learn how it has gone about the pastor's acre." So? Pastor's acre? No, wait, don't let him see it! Pomuchelskopp looked down at the little bit of a nose which nature had given him, and said not a word. "Now, how has it been?" asked Axel. But Pomuchelskopp said neither good nor bad, and looked along his nose, as if it extended for miles. "My dear Herr Neighbor, what is the matter? It is all right, I hope?" "I hope so," said Muchel, stooping to pull a weed out of the potatoes; "at least your note for the two thousand thalers is all right." "What?" asked Axel, astonished, "what has that to do with it?" Wait, Axel! that is all coming right; keep still! he only wants to tease you a little. What must be, must. "You, Herr von Rambow," said Muchel, still plucking weeds, and turning a red face up to the young Herr, "you have the two thousand thalers, and I the Pastor's acre,--that is to say, I haven't it." "But, Herr Neighbor, you were so sure"----