The Glassblower(59)

Wouldn’t Lauscha have a surprise when the May dance turned into an engagement ball!



As every year, the May dance took place on the foundry square. The May-tree was placed not in the middle of the square but off to one side so that it wouldn’t get in the way of the masters pulling molten glass the next day. The bare trunk gleamed silvery pale in the hazy evening sunshine. Colored ribbons were wrapped all around the tree, their ends fluttering in the breeze. All the tables and benches were full and the beer flowed freely. The Steinmann girls were the only ones drinking water.

While Johanna and Marie sat at one end of a long table with Peter, Griseldis Grün, Sarah, and some others from the village, Ruth was squeezed in with Thomas and his brothers. At the head of the table sat Wilhelm Heimer, lording it over them all as head of the family.

Everybody seemed to be having a wonderful time.

Almost everybody.

Ruth looked around in a huff. Everyone at the other tables was already eating, but none of the Heimers had given any sign of wanting to go fetch the grilled sausages and potato salad that the landlord of the Black Eagle was selling behind the May-tree. Weber the baker had set out his stall next to him, and the smell of his leek tarts reminded Ruth that she had hardly had a bite to eat all day. At long last, Peter stood up and fetched food for everyone. But as soon as Ruth saw it in front of her, she couldn’t swallow a thing.

“Oh, bratwurst! If you don’t want those, I’ll eat them.” Before she knew what was happening Thomas had pulled her plate over and was biting into a sausage with every sign of enjoyment.

“Maybe there’s something else Ruth wants instead,” said the youngest Heimer brother as he grasped the fly of his pants.

Ruth shot a furious glance at Michel. Even though coarse language was the order of the day in the Heimer workshop, she still hadn’t gotten used to it. Nor could she laugh at such crude jokes—the way Eva was laughing right now. Most of the jokes were aimed against the womenfolk, and were about breasts or backsides or other more intimate matters.

She gave Thomas a gentle dig in the ribs.

“When are you finally going to say it?” she whispered.

He looked at her as though he had no idea what she was talking about, but then seemed to remember.

“There’s still time for that,” he said, waving a hand. “The fun’s only just starting.”

By then the band had started to play. The instruments all seemed to be engaged in a battle over which one could drown out all the rest, and it soon grew so loud that nobody could hear a word anybody was saying. This didn’t seem to bother anybody, however—they simply raised their voices and yelled louder. Ruth didn’t know how in the world Thomas expected anybody to hear him. And soon nobody would even be sober enough to grasp the news when he gave it. One or the other of them was always getting up to fetch more beer. Even the women were drinking, although less than the men. Turned off by the bitter taste, Ruth hadn’t taken so much as a single sip from the stein that Thomas had pushed across the table at her.

It was already nine o’clock by the time Thomas finally made a move to announce the news.

Ruth was shocked when she saw that he struggled to keep his balance as he got to his feet. Surely he hadn’t drunk that much already, had he?

“Quiet, you lot. Thomas has something to say!” Michel called out, unexpectedly coming to his brother’s aid.

Thomas took Ruth’s arm and pulled her up to her feet beside him. “It’s like this . . .” Tongue-tied, he pushed back a hank of hair from his forehead.

Ruth lifted her chin proudly. Now they would all hear it.

“Well spit it out and then leave it at that!” Sebastian yelled, lifting up his beer stein. “We’re not here to make speeches after all!”

The others grunted their agreement. Ruth’s smile turned sour.

Thomas glared at his brothers. “It’s like this,” he repeated. “Ruth and I, we . . .”

Now he’d gotten the attention of most of the table. Her sisters and the others at the end of the table were looking their way, Ruth realized. She beamed at Johanna and Marie.

“You all know the proverb, I’m sure: a cobbler should stick to his last. Which is why glassblowers should marry the daughters of glassblowers. Uh, that’s to say . . .” His face flushed when he saw Sebastian and Eva glowering at him. “There are exceptions that prove the rule of course.”

Everybody else joined in the laughter, and the awkward moment passed.

Ruth smiled indulgently. She had never imagined that Thomas would be so nervous!

“Anyway . . . We’re not getting married, not today anyway, but engaged. This is it, today, this is our engagement.” Thomas had hardly stopped talking before he began to sit down again, but Ruth held him firmly by the sleeve. Smiling, she glanced all around while Thomas’s friends, astonished, began to call out congratulations. His brothers didn’t say a word, but instead looked fixedly at their father, who rose heavily to his feet.