The trees in Gunther's garden were decked with green and the parterre
was filled with lovely flowers. The birds were singing, and the forest
stream that flowed through the grounds murmured as if regretful at
being obliged to leave the spot so soon.
Within doors all was joy and happiness. Bronnen and Paula were
betrothed. The love that had calmly grown and ripened, now suddenly
burst forth in all its glory. Bronnen wished to call Paula his own,
before the arrival of the court, so that she might then feel less
constrained and have an opportunity to accustom herself to the manners
of the court circle. It was not without fear that Madame Gunther
thought of her child entering the stirring life of the capital, a life
of which she had an unconquerable dread. Bronnen told the doctor and
his wife that he had found it easier to bring about reform in politics
than in court etiquette. It had hitherto been a time-honored and
unalterable custom that wives of the citizen class' could not be
presented at court, no matter what their husbands' rank might be. He
had not been able to effect a change in this until he had made it a
cabinet question. Gunther smiled at this explanation. He knew how
stubbornly etiquette resisted all attempts at innovation. Madame
Gunther, on the other hand, was quite alarmed at the idea that, both at
court and at the capital, Paula would be the first lady after the
queen. She would have been far better pleased if Bronnen's position had
been an humbler one; but she loved him with a maternal affection that
expressed itself in her every glance. She even went so far that Gunther
smilingly remarked: "You've become disloyal to your own country,--" for
she had asserted that a man so noble, so dignified, and yet both firm
and yielding in character, could only be developed under a monarchical
government. "In a republic," said she, "there is a certain want of form
and indulgence of personal inclinations. The self-respect which never
fails in the respect due to others was the peculiar fruit of courts,
and Bronnen had one talent which was especially calculated to place
every one at ease while with him. He was a good listener, and was
always willing to wait attentively until you had finished what you
wanted to say."
The joy of the parents was, however, but a mild reflection of that of
the betrothed. After Paula had, in all sincerity, confessed her fear
that she might fail to satisfy a man like Bronnen, she soon became calm
again, for she felt that there is a depth of love which, including all
that is highest on earth, embraces enduring happiness. The lovers
roamed through field and forest, and Bronnen was again and again
reminded of the pure and radiant sentiments which the refined and
elevated atmosphere of her home had firmly established in Paula. With
every new chord that he touched, he struck a rich store of thought and
found her gifted with an impressible and receptive mind. He rejoiced in
the destiny which had thus directed his choice, and in the conviction
that all individual improvement is achieved and perfected by mutual
effort.
Madame Gunther was with her husband in his study, and would, now and
then, look out of the window at the lovers, who were walking in the
garden.
"Bronnen made a strange confession to Paula and me yesterday," said
she. "If another had told me of it, I would not have believed it."
"What was it?"
"He told us, with a voice full of emotion, that he had once loved
Countess Wildenort. Did you know of it?"
"No, but I can't find anything wrong in it. If she only could have
controlled her impulses, she would have been worthy of the best of men,
and my dear Eberhard deserved to have such a man for his son."
"Tell me," asked Madame Gunther, "I've never found the slightest thing
to object to in him, but do you think it right of him to tell Paula of
this? It will make her still more anxious; she will compare herself
with the brilliant countess, and--"
"Don't let that trouble you," said Gunther, interrupting her; "a heart
which, like our child's, is conscious of the full power of love,
possesses an inexhaustible fund of happiness which no rival, be she
ever so great and brilliant, can disturb. If it were possible, I would
think even more of him than I now do, for having told her of this. It
is not every man who is so fortunate as I have been, and whose first
love is his only love. Most of us are obliged to pass through
disappointment and loss, and he who, like Bronnen, has come out of the
ordeal, pure and unscathed, may praise his lot. The more I regard the
world from a distance, as it were, the greatest misfortune which has
befallen mankind is, that a life soiled by vice should go on parallel
with that which is termed regular and domestic, creating discord among
men, as well as in the individual mind. If the race is to be saved, a
great revolution must take place in the minds of men. We have watched
over our child so long and so faithfully that, in spite of all worldly
happiness, it would deeply grieve me to see her bestow her hand on a
man who, according to the counterfeit expression coined by society, has
led a fast life."
Madame Gunther regarded her husband with a look of unspeakable joy. "I
find that Bronnen has converted you from your aversion to the military
profession," she said, in a soft voice.
"By no means," replied Gunther, "but Bronnen has not been injured by
it. With resolute courage and an easy sway over others, he combines a
deep and earnest mind. It is almost miraculous that, just when I desire
to produce in my work the image of a pure and active man of the present
day, the very traits I seek are found in the man who, in the free
course of nature, is to belong to me. It seems as if mysterious
agencies provided us with that which the poetic eye endeavors to
portray to itself. Bronnen seems as if stepping forth from my work."
Gunther had never before spoken thus of his work. "Don't misunderstand
me," he added; "I do not look upon any one as representing the ideal of
perfect manhood, but I can find some traits in every one, and many of
them in Bronnen. Humanity, as I find it in the actual world, is filled
with beauty; but, in truth, it is still more beautiful, and I am glad
to think that the next generation will be better than our own. And yet
we may truly say that the good we have achieved, lives on with them.
Their enthusiasm will be less than ours, but their moderation will
render it more enduring. But I do not care to go too far into this
subject, at present. All I wanted to say was, that the feeling of
discord, in modern times, arises from the fact that religion has
exalted faith above morals, that art has pursued a similar course with
beauty, and politics with freedom. And yet they are one and
inseparable, and must ever remain so. I trust that I may yet be able to
make this clear to the world, and thus contribute somewhat to the union
of true piety, beauty and freedom, with the morality which is, at
present, so graciously tolerated."
Their conversation was interrupted, for Count von Wildenort, his wife
and mother-in-law were announced. The servant was instructed to ask
them to the garden saloon, and, shortly afterward, the visitors,
Gunther and his wife, Bronnen and his betrothed, were engaged in lively
conversation. Madame Gunther confined her attentions to the young
countess, who had greatly improved under Gunther's treatment, while
Baroness Steigeneck engaged the lovers in conversation. Madame Gunther
would often look at Bronnen and Paula as if she would fain brush away a
caterpillar crawling over them. Bruno addressed Gunther quite
cheerfully, and told him that during the royal visit he would probably
return by command of their majesties. This may have been intended as a
hint to Gunther to bring about such an order, for the baroness, greatly
annoyed by her exclusion from court, intended to return to her castle,
with her children and grandchildren, and then to visit some fashionable
watering-place. She was eager to reach the gaming-table.
They were quite long in taking their leave, and expressed their
gratitude for the pleasures they had enjoyed during their stay, as well
as their envy of those who could live here, as on some happy island. At
last they stepped into their carriage and drove off.
After the visitors had left, Madame Gunther opened all the windows, in
order that a current of fresh air might carry away the strong perfumes
of the baroness.
Bronnen left the same evening. The family accompanied him for a short
distance. He and Paula walked in front, Gunther and his wife behind.
The empty carriage followed after them, and Bronnen did not enter it
until he had taken leave of his friends. The parting was simple and
affectionate. They were full of the joyful memories of the day just
past, and looked forward to future happy days, for Bronnen intended to
return with the king.
On the way home, Paula walked between her parents, her cheeks glowing
with excitement. Gunther, however, left his wife and daughter before
reaching home, for he was obliged to repair to Count Wildenort's
lodgings, in order to give further directions to his wife.
Mother and daughter went on alone, and when Madame Gunther looked at
her daughter, she saw that a silent tear was in her eye, although her
face was radiant with joy.
"You have a right to feel happy," said Madame Gunther, "you will have a
husband fit to be compared to your father. I can wish you nothing
better than to enjoy such happiness as has been mine, and that the joy
I have had in my children, and in you especially, may some day be
yours."
"Ah mother!" said Paula, "I can't realize how I could let him go away
alone, nor, on the other hand, that I am to leave you and father and
sister. But Bronnen--" she always mentioned him by his surname--"says
that he hopes father will again return to the capital; that he might
select any post he pleases, for the king wishes it."
"I don't think your father will consent. But let nothing of that kind
distress you, my dear child. You may well be happy, for your happiness
is shared by us."
Before reaching home, they saw several beautiful horses and carriages
sent in advance of the queen, whose arrival was expected within the
next few days. The highway had suddenly become full of life, and the
little town was filled with wondering and delighted crowds. The court
was coming, and to Gunther they were indebted for all this. The wife
and daughter were respectfully greeted by all whom they met, and, even
in the distance, one could see the townsfolk pointing them out to the
recently arrived court servants, who also greeted them quite
obsequiously.
Further on, they met a vehicle which seemed as if it belonged to
fairyland. Two tiny bay ponies, with short-clipped black manes and gay
trappings, were harnessed to a little, low-wheeled carriage. As if
divining what was going on, the children appeared at the farmhouses and
rushed across the meadows and fields, to admire the crown prince's
fairy-like equipage, and followed it through the town, where the crowd
of joyous, shouting children grew larger and larger, until they at last
reached the dairy-farm.
Paula looked on with a smile. She stopped with her mother before a
house, the signboard on which announced that it was the new telegraph
office. Here, thought she to herself, the messages she would send, and
those she would receive after leaving her paternal home, would pass.
The telegraph poles which Irma had seen the workmen putting up near the
farm, had been erected on account of the queen's intended summer
sojourn in the neighborhood.
Early on the following morning, the first telegram reached the little
town. It was addressed to Paula and was as follows:
"I dedicate the electric spark to the service of love. I am well, and
send greetings to you, your father, mother and sister.
"BRONNEN."