# Two Little Misogynists/Chapter 7

queer-looking man, somewhat resembling a player, and with spectacles on his nose, approached him and greeted him by his name, asking him why he was walking along fidibus fideralla—as if he owned the earth.
"Because I am happy."
"Amen," answered the stranger.
"Is it wrong?"
"Quite the contrary, it is just right. You are to be envied. But are you called, by any chance, Beelzebub, King of the Flies? Both your cheeks are black with them. Why don't you drive them off?"
"Because I like them."
The other burst out laughing, so Gerold added at once, apologetically: "They make such pleasant noises. I don't ​mean the ordinary gadflies, but the ones that came from behind the mountains, the French-Swiss ones."
The stranger looked much amused. Wouldn't Gerold be kind enough to introduce these gadflies, as he had not yet had the pleasure of making their acquaintance? Gerold took hold of him, made him stand still a minute, and then said, "Now do you hear? Ping! Pang! It's like a wire."
"Upon my word, you are right! Perhaps you know more about the beauty of the world than I do, in spite of all my studies. Besides, do you know, Gerold, you make me think of a little finch sitting in a plum tree all in bloom and taking his green bower all for granted. Let's walk on together a little."
"No."
"Oho," said the stranger with a laugh. He pushed his spectacles up on his forehead and tapping his nose with one finger added, "I see." Then he walked on, after having taken a book out of his pocket and put on a second pair of spectacles.
Gerold realized now that he was talking to the Foolish Student. He jumped swiftly into the bushes, picked up a half-dry branch and struck the sorcerer in the stomach. The latter cried "Ouch," and lifted one leg to protect himself. Gerold proceeded to break the branch over his knee and to throw each piece, one after the other, against the Student's legs.
"Hi there, you imp!" shouted Max, "you're going too far;" and he seized Gerold's arm, and threateningly demanded an explanation of this treatment, which he declared was contrary to the law of nations.
"Because you are the Foolish Student," answered the cannoneer impudently.
​"That is true," said the Student, and he bowed his head, and let go of Gerold's arm. Then he added with a peculiar smile, "Each one to his taste. You represent one element in public opinion, and not the worst element by any means. It might be better really if other people would beat one as openly and frankly as you—that's one point of view, and it leaves one in no doubt as to what is coming, and one can defend one's self. But you didn't need to hit so hard. I would have understood the least hint. You know you may be running about in the woods yourself, some day, with everybody laughing at you, when you have reached my age and your bad angel has come for you. I don't make any such wish for you. But you run a risk of it, with those eyes of yours, just like a little St. John's!"
Gerold had something better to do, however, than to listen to all this. He was fascinated by a crocodile, cut in some kind of green stone, which was hanging from the Student's watch chain.
"That is a wonderful crocodile, isn't it?" said the Foolish Student, laughing again. "If you will come to my hermitage with me, I will show you even stranger things than that. Do you want to come?"
Gerold nodded, and followed the Student into the forest and over a soft carpet of moss along a little brook, which ran by some piles of boulders.
"Do you like Gesima very much?" asked the Student as they walked.
"I detest Gesima. She is deceitful."
"That's not a reason. A man may like deceitful girls as much as true ones, even more sometimes. You don't under​stand, do you? Well, I'll explain. Did you ever have a squirrel?"
"Yes, in a cage, with a tread-wheel."
"Didn't it ever bite your finger treacherously?"
"Oh yes, quite often, when I fed it."
"But you didn't drive it away or kill it, on that account, did you?"
"That would be too bad. I only laughed at it."
"That's it. You must act that same way with girls, when they are false to you and hurt you by their deceit, you must not drive them away. That would be too bad. You must just laugh. Tell me what was the dreadful thing that Gesima did to you. What was it?"
So Gerold told him everything from the beginning, about their friendship, their promises to dance together at the Cadets' Ball, and of Gesima's shameful faithlessness in the matter of the skipping rope.
"So now you are probably plotting your revenge."
"Well,—if I knew of a vengeance that would not be mean or low."
"I know one. It is a terrible vengeance, and yet it is neither mean nor low. At the Cadets' Ball, take hold of her firmly, and make her dance till she calls for help, and never let her dance with any one else nor say a word to any one but you, all the evening."
"That's fine. I'll remember about that… And tell me, even though I did invite her to dance at the Cadets' Ball, I'm not absolutely obliged to marry her, am I?"
"No indeed, far from it."
"Whom does one marry, exactly?"
​"One's future wife."
"That isn't what I mean. I mean, how does a fellow know whom he has to marry?"
"You have to go about it this way. You line up all the girls of the town, in a long row, and then you put your ear close up to each one, like the doctor when you have a cough. When you hear one of them sigh, as if she had eaten too many tarts, you know that's the one you are to marry."
"You aren't telling the truth. I don't believe you."
"It is the truth, however. But my truth wears a cap and bells. Am I not the Fool?"
There was a pause. Then Gerold spoke hesitatingly. "I would like to ask a silly question."
"I beg of you most earnestly as a favour to me, do so. It is a real relief to me to hear some one ask a plain foolish question after I've had to listen to so many elaborate idiocies. Go ahead, Gerold. Have pity on me. Ask a foolish question."
"I am afraid you are making fun of me."
"I never make fun of foolishness, only of wisdom. Be brave and go on. Besides, you couldn't possibly ask any wilder questions than the ones I ask myself."
"Why is it absolutely necessary to marry a girl, instead of something else?"
"Well, were you thinking of marrying a grasshopper?"
"Oh no! not that, but—"
"But what?"
"My beautiful prisoner."
"And who may that Johnny be?"
​him daily for many months, whenever he was alone, and always came at night when he went to bed, both when he was awake and when he was asleep.
The Fool stood still, open-mouthed.
"Tell me, you great pudding-headed little shrimp. How old are you?"
"Ten years and two months."
"Ten and two months, and you have a head full of dreams already. Gerold, you are a phenomenon."
"What does that mean, 'phenomenon'?"
"Nothing to hurt your feelings. And by the way, whenever you want to write that word 'phenomenon', do me the favour of spelling it with 'ph' at the beginning, or at the very worst with an 'f', but whatever you do, don't write 'pf' as the president of the St. Cecilia Society in Niedereulenbach did. But now to come back to your wonderful General. As you have told me your secret, I will tell you something mysterious, which you needn't believe unless you want to, but you must pay attention all the same and remember it. Some day, in five years maybe, or seven or eight years, that General of Cadets will turn into a real live girl, whom you can look at in the flesh, and she will call you 'Gerold', with a very long 'e' as if it were spelled 'Geh'. Is there anything else you'd like to ask me?"
"Yes. Why does God let cats torture mice so horribly before killing them?"
"Where do you get your God from?"
"Out of the Bible."
"Doesn't the Bible tell about the Devil too?"
"Oh, yes. But the Pastor told us in our Bible lesson that all the same the Devil didn't really exist."
​"Well, you can give my kind regards to your Pastor, and tell him from me that he must be an india-rubber Pastor. But before you tell him that, be sure you have passed all your examinations. And listen carefully to this, Gerold. You are beginning to think for yourself, and it is a very unpopular thing to do, unpatriotic, contrary to the interests of society and condemned by men. If you go on like this, every one around you will look down on you. And some fine day you will yourself be presented with a dunce cap. You can be sure of it. Don't reflect, Gerold; don't think."
As they talked, they reached a mossy cabin, with a paper weather-cock turning on the roof. One side of the weather-cock represented a young man, and the other a frightful witch. The youth had a whip in his hand, the witch a broom.
"There is my weather-vane," explained the Foolish Student. "When the young hero drives away the witch, it is fine weather in the great world. But will your Excellency do me the honour of coming in? There is a bench in the cabin, and that bench has plenty of room on it for two black sheep like us. Now make yourself at home and have a look around. You may pick up anything you like, open anything, and take out anything. I will put no restrictions on you and I have no secrets from you, and there is no such thing as order in my house. In the meantime I will get the altar ready. If you want any information, ask for it. I shall be close by and I will hear everything you say." And he left the cabin.
Gerold drew a box from under the bench and began to rummage in it. He took out some old coins, then some fossils and pressed plants, and some bits of glass of different colours. The Foolish Student put his head through a hole in the wall and ​watched him as he gazed, fascinated, through the different pieces of glass. "The world looks entirely different, doesn't it, according to the glass through which one looks at it?"
"Why is that notebook empty?" Gerold asked.
The Foolish Student stuck his head through the hole again.
"That notebook isn't empty. It is a kind of magic book, painted with invisible ink. If you look hard at one page for a while, you will see some wonderful pictures."
"Yes, now I see something, but not clearly. Fruit and flowers, or something like that."
"That's it. Boys who have faith grow up to be determined men. Do you realize, Gerold, that you were born under a lucky star?"
Gerold shook his head. "Oh, no," he said sadly. "The children who are born under a lucky star are always the youngest of the family, and I am the elder of two brothers."
"A mistake, my dear boy, a great mistake. The youngest of the family is the one who lives in the Well of Eternity, out of which old Father Time draws up the Present in his bucket. If you are born under a lucky star, you are not necessarily successful in all you undertake. Nobody is like that, in real life. But you make light of the dreary days and know that some day the bright light will shine in your life, it doesn't make any difference when or how it comes. In the meantime there are dark times, even very black ones, and you may suffer, but what difference does it make?" And as he said these words his head disappeared again.
"Oh!" breathed Gerold rapturously with a deep sigh of delight.
"What pleases you so much? Tell me."
​"Such a beautiful water colour. A lovely lady on horseback. Did you paint it yourself?"
"I don't know what lady on horseback you mean."
"She is riding on a white horse, and she looks a little like Gesima. And there is something written underneath: 'Hilda Maria Anita de Weissenstein, Née the Baroness'… What does that mean, 'Née the Baroness'?"
The Foolish Student came rushing through the door in great excitement.
"Where did you find that picture? See, we'll hide it again quickly."
And he shoved it hastily into a portfolio, which he locked with a little key. Immediately he had a long and painful attack of coughing.
When his breath came back a little he said, "Gerold, I envy you your General of Cadets. You defeated him, and you hold and can keep him prisoner. As for my general—Alas! Alas! But now come. The altar is all ready."
A stone bench near the cabin was covered with a red cloth and above it, at the back of an empty niche in the rock, were stuck two coloured wax candles.
"One for you and one for me, explained the Foolish Student. "As for the image of the saint behind the candles, you must imagine it. Each can put there whatever he holds most dear. Now come, we must pray to the holy image,-a short prayer. You may sit down on the stool here, and you don't have to fold your hands unless you want to. 'May no evil ever come to us through those we love.' That's enough. The prayer is over and it's time for the hymn. But we have to light the candles first."
​When he had lit the candles he took a violin and began to play with the clear smooth tone of a true musician. Then he sang a Latin song, playing the accompaniment on the violin as he sang. It was so sad and so solemn that Gerold folded his hands in spite of having been told not to. The Student's voice, which sounded weak and toneless when he spoke, rang out with surprising resonance, and yet it was clear and sweet, too. It sounded like a 'cello. Gerold listened devoutly. It seemed to him as if he were at a religious concert.
Suddenly a stone flew towards the hut, rustling through the foliage.
"You see," said the Fool sadly, putting his violin away in haste. "It exasperates them if you play and sing in the daytime. Gerold, I tell you, you must believe in the devil, and in many devils. This one is the Parish devil. His name is Populo and he persecutes everything that is not like himself, everything that is unusual, even though it may be harmless. Now go. It is dangerous to stay at the Fool's cabin."
But when Gerold tried to express his thanks before leaving, he added;
"Hold on, don't go so fast. I'll start along with you. A fellow like you needs to be shown the road, or else he'll dawdle the day away beside some clump of flowers. But tell me, what side are you on? For Gesima or against her?"
"Against Gesima."
"All right. I'll lead you to the fray."
And so, with Gerold following, he walked through the wood. As they went along in single file, Gerold told his companion about his carelessness with the five-franc piece, and asked for some advice in the matter. Should he wait to see what would ​happen, or should he confess and draw on himself the punishment he deserved?
"Leave that to me, and I'll tell my father the story tonight. He won't be angry at all, and he will be perfectly delighted to hear all about the dragoon. I know him."
"Aren't you afraid of your father?"
"One is never afraid to do a favour to somebody. See, now we are on the highway. You must walk criss-cross to that little house further along, the one that says Althäusli on it. Lie down on the bench by the front door, and wait and see what happens. What are you waiting for now? Why do you look at me that funny way?"
Gerold looked down at his boots in embarrassment. He stammered that he was very grateful for everything and he was sorry he had started in by beating the Foolish Student, but he couldn't say what he meant because no matter how hard he tried, he simply could not utter the fatal words.
The Fool laughed. "What is meant is as good as done. I'll consider it said."
But Gerold did not feel satisfied. He thought it would be a fine and noble thing to say, "I beg your pardon." He would like to be told just how to go about it so as to be able to speak the formula out loud.
"You will say it of your own accord some day, when you love somebody very much indeed. The four little words will jump right out of your mouth, all at once, feet first, like a horse going over a hedge. Now, have you anything else on your mind?"
"Yes, the worst thing of all." And he told about the paper he had found that morning down in the hollow among the ​Page:Spitteler - Two-little-misogynists (1922).djvu/117