Zesara will never forget the spring evening, on which he saw a passenger
in a greatcoat,--a little limping and covered with brown
travelling-paint, to which his white eyeballs formed a shining
contrast,--wade across the shallow brook beside the high bridge, and
how, further, the passenger took with him a watch-man's cane which the
then Lieutenant of the Beggar's Police had just leaned against his
house-door, a vicarious fellow-laborer, and handed the said cane, on his
way, to a cripple, with the words: "Old man, I have nothing by me
smaller than the stick. If anybody asks you about it, just tell them you
are keeping guard in the village against the confounded beggar tribe,
but have not eyes enough." At the same time our pilgrim reached out to a
rector's little son, who needed it for about three minutes, his
pocket-handkerchief.
It was of course our old Librarian by title, Schoppe, whom Don Gaspard
had despatched with the note of invitation for Isola Bella. Albano's
delight was so great, that only some days later did the youth mistake
the odd humorist, whereas the latter soon correctly weighed the light,
ardent, still wildling. Did it not fare still worse with the old
Provincial Director, who, merely because he rated the _body_ politic of
the Empire as high as if he were the installed _soul_ therein, upon
Schoppe's sallies against the constitution, came out in a patriotic
fury: "Sir," said he, in an excited manner, "even if there were a flaw
anywhere, still a true German would be bound to maintain a profound
silence on the subject, unless he can help the matter, especially in
such cursed times."
The finest of all was, that, at Luigi's request, the Architect had to
set out at the same time, for the purpose of fetching casts of antiques
from Rome.
And now march on, that soon ye may come back again, and we may at last
for once fairly enter Pestitz! It may well be expected that thou, good
child (I should rather say, wild-bee), wilt take thy flight from the
rural honey-tree into the glass beehive of the city, with deeper pangs
than thou hadst imagined beforehand,--has not even the old foster-father
gone off on his journey without saying his farewell, only to escape
thine?--and, as to thy good mother, it seems to her as if one of the
angry Parcæ were tearing a son from her breast, as if his tender
love-bond, woven only of childish familiarity, would not stretch out
into the far future,--and thy sister locks herself up in the attic, her
rustic heart raging with fiery torments, and cannot say anything to
thee, nor give thee anything, but a letter-case previously and privately
worked by her with the silken circumscription: "Remember us!" and even
on thy laurel-seeking head will the triumphal arch or rainbow of
leave-taking, when thou passest under it, fling down heavy, heavy drops,
(ah, they will continue to hang longer on the eyes that look after
thee!) thy honest old teacher Wehmeier will pour out upon thee the last
stream of his words and tears, and say, and thy tender heart will not
smile at it: "He is a worn out, old fellow, and has now nothing before
him but the hole (the grave); thou, on the contrary, art a fresh, young
blood, full of languages and antiquities and magnificent, god-given
talents,--of course he shall not live to see thee make a famous man, but
his children well may; and these poor worms,--thou must one day adopt
them, young master!"
Thou pure soul, on every familiar house, on every dear garden and valley
will sorrow, indeed, sharpen her clasp-knife, and tear open therewith
softly gushing wounds in thy glowing, tender heart. What do I say? even
from thy friendly morning- and evening-heights, the nunnery-gratings of
thy holiest hopes, and from Liana herself, thou wilt seem to be stealing
away.
But cast thy weeping eyes over the broad, blue Italy, and dry them in
the spring breezes. Life begins,--the signals for the martial exercises
and tournaments of manly youth are given, and, in the midst of the
Olympic battle-games, thou wilt hear the music of neighboring concert-
and dancing-halls magnificently pealing around thee.
What phantasies are these I am playing here? What! is it not more than
too well known to all of us, that he has been gone this long time, ever
since the very first Jubilee-period,--yes, and come back again, and has
already, ever since the second--and we are now counting the fourth--been
sitting in company with the Librarian and the Lector, on horseback,
before Pestitz, unable to get in, on account of the barricade of
the----