day on it was the
railroad that carried wine and love, wood and happiness, wares and
hope.

But on the heights above Florian Hausbaum was making his last trip. His
employer had given him notice. He let his quivering horses rest, and
where in other days an outburst of happiness had made him send a halloo
from the fairest spot far out across the conquered depths toward the
Alps, there he now wept for a whole silly stretch.

Henceforth the road was desolate, at one blow--and no one even drove a
cart over it any more. The manure which the farmers had conveyed to
their fields was almost the only one of this world's goods which it
still carried.

As for Florian Hausbaum, he became a driver for the Ox Inn at
Voelkermarkt; that was a little consolation, at least; to settle down
here on the scene of former triumphs, and ever and again to be able to
drive at least a little load of grain or wood over the beloved road. To
be sure, he could no longer reach all his girls with these present
trips. Nor did they need it, for now there was other supply. From over
yonder, from across the Drau, from Praevali, Bleiburg, and Kuehnsdorf,
and also from Rueckersdorf and Grafenstein, and not to mention the
provincial capital, from there came the new foes, who wore such
handsome red caps when on duty, as resplendent as officers with their
black velvet lapels and the gold rosettes and winged wheels. They were
the young railroad officials, pupils and assistants, and each one was
the Casanova of his district! In those small places there were no other
uniforms, and what was the bouquet on Florian's hat worth, compared
with those caps with gold braid and rosette! They took away his Lisi,
Marianne at St. Martin, and the passionate beauty Resele in the little
hamlet of Eis. At Klagenfurt and Voelkermarkt they danced all the girls
away before his very nose, and it was just the winter, toward which he
had looked forward with joyful anticipation, which became the way of
the cross for him, where each stopping-place meant the end of a love
and loyalty. Florie's best quality, his rarity, was of course gone;
from now on he was always on hand, after all, and more than that, he
was no longer the bringer of joy, the messenger of the thawing breeze,
as of yore.

He defended his position with the girls; but as full-bred Styrian he
began quarrels and brawls with his rivals on the railroad, instead of
becoming a railroad man himself. So he was locked up in Klage