"I was tired to death, and thought I should fall asleep in a moment,

but the manifold thoughts and fancies which began to cross each other

in my brain drove sleep away. I seemed to be only beginning to realize

the rapid change which had taken place in my position and

circumstances. It was only now, when I had actually taken possession of

my property, and was absolutely in my house, that I quite grasped the

fact that I was suddenly lifted out of very narrow circumstances to a

position of affluence, and that life was opening before me a vista of

most agreeable ease and comfort. The watchman's discordant voice

croaked out "Eleven," and "Twelve." I was so wide awake that I

distinctly heard my watch ticking on the table, and a cricket chirping

somewhere a long way off; but as the last stroke of twelve sounded,

hollow and faint, from a church-clock in the distance, measured

footfalls began to walk up and down the room, and at every step came

the sounds of sobbing and sighing, growing louder and louder, till they

were like the heart-breaking cries of some creature in deadly pain or

peril, and then there came a scuffling and a scratching on the outside

of the door, and a dog whimpered and moaned, in tones that were almost

human. I had noticed the old pug--my aunt's pet and darling--the

evening before. It was evidently him, whining to get in. I got out of

bed: I stared most scrutinizingly all about the room, which was dimly

lighted by the glimmer of the sky. Everything that was in it I could

make out distinctly; but no form was to be seen moving up and down,

though the footsteps, and the sobbing and sighing, still went on,

apparently close beside my bed. And then, suddenly, I was seized by

that terror, arising from the proximity of a spirit, which I had never

known before. I felt a cold perspiration dropping from my forehead, and

my hair standing straight up on end, as if frozen by its iciness. I

could not move a limb, nor open my mouth to scream, for terror; but my

blood streamed faster in my throbbing veins, and kept my inner senses

active, though they could exercise no control over my organs, which

were paralyzed as with a spasm of death. Suddenly the footsteps

stopped, and the sobbing ceased; then I could hear a sort of coughing

sound--like a clearing of the throat more than coughing; the door of a

cupboard seemed to open; there was a clattering as of a silver spoon;

then a sound as if some bottle was opened and put back on the shelf; a

sound of swallowing, and then a deep-drawn sigh. At that instant a

tall, white figure seemed to come wavering forward out of the wall. I

sunk down into the depths of an ice river of the wildest terror. I lost

consciousness.

"I came to myself with the sensation of a fall from some height. You

all know that every-day dream sensation; but the peculiar feeling that

I experienced then I hardly know how to describe to you. It was some

time before I could make out where I was, and then there was a sense as

if something terrible had been happening, which a long, death-like

sleep had wiped away the remembrance of. At last it all came gradually

back to me, but I thought it was nothing but a painful dream. However,

when I got up I noticed the portrait for the first time--the portrait

in the wedding-dress; a life-size, three-quarter length portrait. A

cold shiver ran down my back, for I felt sure I recognized in it the

figure which I had seen in the night. But then I could see nothing in

the shape of a cupboard in the room, and that confirmed me in the

conclusion that I had only been dreaming.

"'Mistress Anne brought my coffee. She looked me long in the face, and

said, "Eh, sir! you _are_ looking pale and badly!--has anything been

happening?" Far from telling her anything about it, I said an

oppression in my chest had prevented me from sleeping. "It's the

stomach!--it's the stomach!" said the old woman. "Eh! we've help at

hand for that!" She scuffled up to the wall; opened a door in the

hangings which I had not noticed before, and I saw into a cupboard

where there were glasses, small bottles, and two or three silver

spoons. The old woman took out one of the spoons, clattering and

tinkling it as she did so; opened a bottle; poured a few drops from it

into the spoon; put it back in its place, and then came towards me with

her unsteady, wavering gait. I gave a scream of horror. It was the

exact reproduction, in broad, waking daylight, of the scene of the

previous night.

"'"Well, well!" croaked the old woman, with a strange grin; "it's only

a drop of medicine, sir. The mistress was troubled with her stomach

too, and often had to take a little."

"'I manned myself, and swallowed the stuff, which was bitter and

hot. My eyes were on the bride's picture, which was just over the

wall-press. "Whose portrait's that?" I asked.

"'"Good gracious, sir! don't you know?" she cried. "That's poor dear

mistress, that's dead and gone your aunt." The tears ran down her

cheeks. The dog began to whimper, as it had done in the night. I

mastered my inward shudder, and forced myself with some difficulty to

be composed. I said:

"'"Mistress Anne! I feel quite positive that my aunt was at that

cupboard last night at twelve o'clock, taking some of those drops."

"'The old woman showed no surprise. A strange, deadly pallor seemed to

extinguish the last sparks of life in her wrinkled face, and she said

softly, "Has the Feast of the Invention of the Cross come round

again?--No; it's long past the third of May."

"'I didn't feel able to ask anything further, and the old woman went

away. I dressed as fast as I could, left my breakfast untouched, and

ran as quickly as possible into the open air to try and shake off

the dreadful feeling of unreality--as if everything was a horrible

dream--which had taken possession of me again. That night, without my

having given any orders on the subject, Mistress Anne made up my bed in

a nice cheerful room facing the street. I have never said another word

to her about what I heard and saw, far less to Falter. Do me the favour,

you two, to say nothing about it either, or there will only be a lot of

annoying tittle-tattle, and endless troublesome questions, and, very

likely, all the bother of a formal investigation by the Psychological

Society. Even in the room where I sleep now, I feel pretty certain I

can hear the footsteps and the sobs every night at midnight. However, I

mean to put up with it the best way I can for a short time, and then

try to get rid of the house as quietly as possible, and look out for

another.'

"When Alexander had finished, there was a short silence. Then Marzell

said:

"'All this about your old aunt haunting the house is strange and

uncanny enough. But, firmly as I believe that an extraneous Spiritual

Principle, or "Entity," has the power of making itself felt by, or

perceptible to, us in some way or other, this adventure of yours

strikes one as being very largely tinctured with a purely material

element. The footsteps, and the sighing and sobbing, might pass well

enough: but that the poor old aunt deceased should go and swallow

stomachic drops, as she did when she was feeling a little out of sorts

in this life--well, it's too much like the lady who, when she revisited

the glimpses of the moon after death, used to scrabble outside the

window like a cat shut out by accident.'

"'Now that,' said Severin, 'is just one of the regular, stereotyped

ways in which we go wilfully mystifying ourselves. We admit that an

extraneous Spiritual Principle can affect us (apparently, at all

events), by acting on our bodily senses, but we insist on giving said

spiritual principle a certain amount of education, and on teaching it

what it is proper, and what it is improper that it should do. According

to your theory, my dear Marzell, a spirit may go about in slippers and

sigh and sob, but it mustn't take the cork out of a bottle, or swallow

any of its contents. Here it is to be observed that our own spirit, in

dreams, often hangs commonplace matters out of our own imprisoned state

of life on to that higher condition of being which only indicates

itself dimly, even in dreams; and that it employs a great deal of irony

in so doing. May not this irony, which lies so very deep in our nature

(so conscious of its state of decadence from what it originally was)

still exist in the soul after it has burst from the chrysalis of the

body, and out of this life of dreams, when it is allowed a glance back

at its discarded envelope? On this theory, the essential factor in

every case of spirit-seeing is the Will of the Spiritual Entity, and

the influence exerted by it. This influence is what sends the person

affected by it, though in the waking state, into the world of

dreams--(though the person seeing relieves that he does so by means of

his natural senses)--and it would be absurd enough were we to insist on

establishing, for appearances of this sort, any particular "Norm,"

corresponding to our ideas of what ought, or ought not to be. It's

worthy of remark that people who walk in their sleep, active dreamers,

are often employed about the most trivial functions of life: for

instance, the fellow who, on the night of full moon, always used to

saddle his horse, take it out of the stable, and then lead it back,

unsaddle it, and go to his bed again. However, all these matters are

mere _disjecta membra_. What I really am driving at is, briefly----'

"'You believe in the old aunt then, do you?' asked Alexander, turning

rather pale.

"'What is there that he doesn't believe?' said Marzell. 'And I am a

true believer, too, though not such a confirmed one, perhaps. But now

I'm going to tell you that I have been haunted too; and that by a much

worse apparation, in the house where I'm lodging at present. I assure

you it nearly frightened me to death.'

"'And I haven't been so much better off, neither,' said Severin.

"'When I got back here to Berlin the other day,' said Marzell, 'I took

a nice, comfortable, well-furnished room in Friedrich Strasse. Like

Alexander, I was tired to death when I threw myself into bed; but

I had hardly been asleep for an hour or so when I became aware of

something like a bright light shining on my closed eyelids. I opened my

eyes--and, fancy my horror--close beside my bed stood a tall, attenuated

figure, with a face as pale as death, and frightfully distorted,

staring at me fixedly with glassy-looking spectral eyes! A white shirt

was hanging from the shoulders of this figure, so that its breast was

bare, and seemed to be bloody. In its left hand it had a branched

candlestick, with two lighted wax candles; and in its right, a tall

glass full of water. Speechlessly, I kept my eyes riveted on this

spectral being as it began swinging the lights and the glass in wide

circles, uttering horrible, whimpering sounds as it did so. Like

Alexander, I was seized by "ghost terror." Slower and slower the

spectre swung the lights and the water-glass, till they came to a stop.

Then I fancied I could hear a sort of low, whispering singing in the

room, and, with a curious sardonic sort of laugh, the figure went

slowly away, out of the door. It was long before I could summon up

courage to get up and hurriedly bolt the door, which I found I had

neglected to do the night before when I went to bed. Often and often,

when I was serving in the field, I have found some stranger standing

beside me when I awoke; but that never frightened me at all, so that I

was firmly persuaded there was something supernatural about the affair

in this instance. Well, I was going downstairs next morning to talk to

the landlady about what had happened in the night. As I came out on to

the landing the opposite door opened and a tall attenuated figure,

muffled up in a white dressing-gown, came out meeting me. At the first

glance I recognized the deadly white face and the sunken, glassy eyes I

had seen at my bedside in the night. And, although I knew, now, that,

if the ghost appeared again it was kickable, still, I felt a sort of

echo of the terror which had been on me in the night, and was starting

off downstairs as fast as I could. But the individual barred my

passage, took me politely by the hand and said, in a kindly manner,

with a good-tempered smile on his face:

"'"Good-morning, dear neighbour. I trust you had a quiet night, and

that nothing disturbed you?"'

"'I told him what had happened without a moment's hesitation; adding

that I felt pretty certain he had been the apparition himself, and that

I was glad I hadn't given him a pretty warm reception, as, from my

recent experience in the field, I was, not unnaturally, rather apt to

think that people who came in upon me in that sort of fashion were not

exactly friendly. I added that I could scarcely be expected to answer

for myself, in that respect, in the future.

"'As I said this the man kept on smiling and shaking his head; and,

when I had finished, he said, very softly and gently:

"'"Well, my dear neighbour, I hope you won't be annoyed. Ay--ay--the

fact is, I thought, I felt quite _sure_ it would be so, and this

morning I knew it had been, I felt so well and happy, so composed and

reassured in myself. You see, I'm a very anxious, nervous man: how

could it be otherwise? Yes, yes: and so they say that, the day after

to-morrow,--"

"'And he went on to talk about common, every-day gossip of the town,

and then to other matters connected with the place, likely to be of

interest to a new arrival; and all this he dished up not without a

spice of irony which was entertaining enough. So, now that he began to

be interesting, I went back to the events of the night, and asked him

to tell me, without reserve or hesitation, what had induced him to come

and wake me up in that alarming manner.

"'"Ah, my dear neighbour," he said, "I really hope you won't be much

annoyed with me for taking the liberty--I'm sure I scarcely know how I

could have been so bold. It was only that I was anxious to know how you

were disposed towards me. I'm an exceedingly anxious, nervous man; and

a new neighbour can be a very painful trial to me till I know what

terms we're going to be upon."

"'I assured this extraordinary fellow that, so far, I hadn't the

slightest idea what he was driving at; and then he took me by the hand,

and led me into his room.

"'"Why should I hide from you, dear neighbour," he said, taking me to

the window--"why should I deny, or make any secret of the miraculous

power which I possess? God's strength is made perfect in our weakness;

and thus it is that, to me, wretched creature that I am, exposed

without shield to all the fiery darts of the adversary, has been

vouchsafed, as a means of help and protection, the miraculous power of

seeing, under certain conditions, into the hearts of men, and reading

their inmost thoughts. I take up this clear, bright vessel, containing

distilled water" (he took a tall drinking-glass from the window-sill,

it was the same he had had in the night), "I fix my thoughts and

concentrate my will upon the person whose heart I wish to read, and I

swing the glass to and fro, observing certain prescribed oscillations,

known only to myself. Presently little bubbles begin to move up and

down in the water, throwing reflections, something like the back of a

looking-glass, and by-and-by, as I look at them, I seem to see, as it

were, my own inner spirit reflected in them, perceptibly and legibly,

although a higher consciousness recognizes the image and its reflection

as that of the person upon whom I am exerting my will. Often, when the

propinquity of a stranger, as yet uninvestigated, makes me over anxious

and uneasy, it chances that I make an experiment in the night; and I

presume this was the case last night; for I can assure you you caused

me no little uneasiness yesterday evening. Oh! my dear, dear neighbour,

surely I can't be wrong, surely I'm not making a mistake here: you and

I spent many happy days together in Ceylon, just as nearly as possible

two hundred years ago? Did we not?"

"'Then he got into all sorts of labyrinths of incoherence, and I saw

well enough whom I had to do with, and got away from him as quickly as

I could, though not without some difficulty.

"'When I asked the landlady about him, I found that my neighbour, who

had long been a much esteemed savant and man of business, with much

many-sided cultivation, had a short time before fallen into a profound

_maliconia_, in which he believed that everybody was inimically

disposed to him and wanted to do him some harm; till all at once he

thought he had discovered the means of finding out those who were his

enemies and were hostile to him; upon which he had passed into his

present tranquil and contented condition of madness with "fixed idea."

It seems he sits nearly all day at his window making experiments with

his glass. His own kindly disposition is seen in the circumstance that

he nearly always augurs well of the people whom he experiments upon,

and when he comes across anybody whom he thinks inimical, or dubious,

he is not angry, but droops into a state of quiet sadness. So that his

madness is quite harmless, and his elder brother, who manages his

affairs, can let him live wherever he chooses, and has no occasion to

give himself any trouble about him.'

"'So that your ghost,' said Severin, 'belongs to the category of those

in Wagner's "Book of Apparitions," inasmuch as your explanation--to the

effect that it was due to natural causes, and was chiefly the result of

your own imagination--comes dragging in at the tail of the story, as is

always the case in that most prosy of books.'

"'If nothing short of a ghost will satisfy you,' said Marzell, 'of

course that is so. However, this madman of mine with whom I'm now on

the most intimate terms--is a very interesting specimen; and there's

only one thing connected with him that I don't altogether like, namely,

that he's beginning to take to _other_ fixed ideas; for instance, that

he's the King of Amboyna, and has been taken prisoner, and exhibited

for money about the country, as a bird of paradise, for fifty years.

Now that sort of thing is capable of turning into a violent form of

insanity. I knew a man who used to shine as the moon in the quietest

and happiest madness every night, till he took it in his head that he

had got to rise as the sun also, and then he broke out into the wildest

violence.'

"'My dear fellows,' cried Alexander, 'is this talk for a place like

this, in the middle of thousands of people in their holiday clothes,

enjoying themselves in the bright sunshine? All we want to make us

perfect is that Severin--who's looking much paler and more pensive than

I like to see him shall have had some more terrible experience than

even we have, and will tell us about it.'

"'Well,' said Severin, 'the fact is, though I haven't been seeing any

ghost, still the mysterious, the supernatural, has come in contact with

my life so nearly and closely, that I have been most painfully made

aware of the existence of "the electric chain with which we are darkly

bound."'

"I was certain,' said Alexander, 'that the strange mood he is in must

be traceable to something out of the common.'

"'We shall hear strange matters now, I feel certain,' said Marzell with

a laugh.

"On which Severin said:

"'If Alexander's aunt deceased takes doses of stomachic drops, if

Nettelmann, the ex-private secretary--(for he's the madman, and a very

old acquaintance of mine he is)--has divined Marzell's good disposition

towards him in a glass of water, perhaps I may be allowed to tell you

of a curious instance of foreboding, or presentiment, or call it a

prescience, which I have experienced in the form of the perfume of a

flower. You know that I am living at the far end of the Thiergarten,

near the park-ranger's? Very well. The day of my arrival----'

"Here Severin was interrupted by an old gentleman, vary nicely dressed,

who politely asked him to be kind enough to move his chair a little

forward to let him pass. Severin rose, and the old gentleman, bowing

courteously, led forward an elderly lady, apparently his wife. A boy of

some twelve years followed them. Severin was about to sit down again,

when Alexander said softly, 'Wait a moment; that young lady there seems

to belong to the family, too.'

"The friends looked, and saw a wonderfully beautiful creature

approaching, with hesitating steps, looking backwards over her

shoulder. She seemed to be looking for some one whom she was anxious to

see, or perhaps had noticed in passing. Almost immediately a young

fellow came gliding up to her through the crowd, and slipped a note

into her hand, which she quickly concealed in her breast. Meanwhile,

the old gentleman had taken possession of a table which some people had

just left, and was telling the flying waiter (whom he had checked in

his flight, and was holding tight by the flap of his jacket) at much

length, and with great minuteness, what he was to go and bring. The

lady was occupied in dusting the chairs, and consequently they did not

observe the loitering of their daughter, who, without taking any notice

of Severin (who still stood politely holding the chair to allow her to

pass), made haste to rejoin her people. She sat down so that the

friends were able to look straight into her wonderfully beautiful face,

and dark, exquisitely 'appealing' eyes. There was something immensely

attractive and irresistible in her whole being, and in all her

movements. She was beautifully dressed in the latest fashions, a trifle

too much dressed, perhaps, for the promenade, but still in perfect

taste. The mother recognised a lady sitting a short distance off, and

they rose and talked to each other; the old gentleman lighted his pipe.

The young lady took advantage of this chance to take the letter from

her breast and read it hastily, and the friends saw the colour come

quickly to the poor thing's cheeks, and the big tears rise in her eyes,

while her bosom rose and fell with emotion. She tore the letter into

little fragments, and let the wind carry them one by one away, as if

each was some beautiful hope hard to relinquish. The old people came

back: the father looked keenly at her tearful eyes, and seemed to be

asking her what was the matter. She answered a word or two in a tone of

gentle regret (the friends couldn't hear them), but, as she took out

her handkerchief and held it to her cheek, they concluded she was

pretending to have toothache; and therefore it struck them as strange

that her father--who had a somewhat caricature-like face of irony on

him--made funny grimaces, and laughed heartily.

"Neither Alexander, Severin, nor Marzell had said a word, but kept

their eyes riveted on the lovely creature who had suffered such a

bitter sorrow. The boy now came and sat down, and his sister changed

her place so that her back was turned to our friends. This broke the

spell, and Alexander, standing up, and tapping Severin on the shoulder,

said:

"'Well, friend Severin, what has become of your prescience in the shape

of a flower; and of Nettelmann, my aunt, and all the other subjects we

were discussing so profoundly? What is this apparition which has tied

our tongues and amazed our eyes?'

"'One remark I will make,' said Marzell with a heavy sigh, 'to wit,

that that poor girl there is the most divinely and exquisitely

beautiful creature that ever I beheld.'

"'Oh!' said Severin, sighing more deeply than Marzell; 'and to think

that this lovely darling is under the burden of some terrible sorrow!'

"'Ay,' said Marzell, and has probably just received a crushing blow.'

"Exactly,' said Alexander. 'What I wish to goodness is, that I could

get hold of that great, awkward-looking lout of a fellow who gave her

the letter. If I could only give him a good hiding, I should feel

relieved in my mind. Of course it was he whom she was expecting to meet

here; and, instead of joining the family party, like a man, he has gone

and handed her some boshy letter telling her he couldn't come. Some

preposterous piece of jealousy, I suppose; some lover's quarrel or

another.'

"Marzell interrupted him impatiently. 'How little you know the world!

Your hiding would fall upon the shoulders (temptingly broad they are, I

admit) of an innocent, inoffensive messenger. You could see that in the

silly smile of him, in his whole manner, even in his walk. He was only

the letter-carrier, not the letter-writer. You may do what you like,

but if you hand a person a letter of your own writing, the contents of

it are legible in your face. At all events your face is always a

condensed "summary" of the full official report inside. Nothing but the

most cruel irony (easily recognisable into the bargain) would have made

a man give the woman he loved a letter with the particular sort of bow

that the fellow made when he handed that one. No! what seems certain

is, that the poor thing expected to meet her sweetheart--prevented from

seeing her at home--in this place. He has been unavoidably prevented

from coming; or perhaps, as Alexander thinks, some silly lover's

quarrel has kept him away: so that he sent some friend with the letter.

At all events, whatever the facts may be, the little scene was quite

heart-breaking.'

"And yet,' said Severin, 'you ascribe this deep, heart-breaking sorrow

to some trumpery, every-day cause! No, no! she has a secret passion,

most likely against her parents' will. All her hopes depended upon some

one event which to-day was to decide. It has all turned out amiss!

hope's star has set for ever, all earthly happiness is a thing of the

past! Didn't you see the heart-breaking look of deep, inconsolable

sorrow with which she sent the fragments of the fatal letter fluttering

away on the breeze, like Ophelia with her straw flowers, or Emilia

Galotti with her roses? I could have wept tears of blood when the wind

whirled away those words of death, as in bitter, sneering mockery! Is

there no comfort on earth? Does the world contain no more hope or

consolation for that most lovely, interesting young creature?'

"'Bravo, Severin,' said Alexander, 'you're fairly afloat and under way,

now! you've got your tragedy fairly in hand! No, no! we'll leave her

some hope still, some prospect of happiness in this world; and I

believe she hasn't many misgivings on the subject herself. She seems to

be pretty composed and comfortable in her mind. See how carefully she's

putting her new white gloves down on the tablecloth, and how quietly and

daintily she's dipping her cake in her tea. See, she's nodding at the

old fellow as he puts a tiny droplet of rum into the cup. The boy's

munching away at the bread-and-butter. Plump! goes a fid of it into his

tea, which splashes up in his face. The old folks are laughing, and

so's the young lady, she's actually shaking with laughter.'

"'Ah!' said Severin, 'that's just the terrible part of it; to be

obliged to pretend to be interested in every day matters when the heart

is breaking. Indeed, it's easier to laugh, then, than to seem

indifferent.'

"'I do beg, Severin,' said Marzell, 'that you'll be quiet for a little.

If we keep on looking at her in this way we shall get so terribly

interested in her that we shan't see the end of it. Let's talk about

something else.'

"Alexander agreed, and they set to work to carry on a conversation,

lightsomely fluttering from topic to topic. In this they were so far

successful that they talked about utterly trivial matters with a great

expenditure of noise. But everything they said had such a strange

character and peculiar tone, never in the least appropriate to the

subject, that the words seemed to be mere cyphers with some hidden,

mysterious meaning. They determined to celebrate this day of their

reunion with a bowl of cold punch; and at the third glass of it they

fell weeping into each other's arms. The young lady rose, went to the

railing above the stream, and stood there pensively gazing at the

clouds.

'Swift-sailing cloudlets

Borne by the breezes,'

quoted Marzell, in accents of gentle sorrow. But Severin banged his

glass on the table, and spoke of a battle-field which he had seen by

the light of a full-moon, and of the pale corpses that had gazed at him

with eyes instinct with life.

"'God be about us!' cried Alexander. 'What's the matter with you,

brother?'

"The girl sat down again at the table. With one impulse the three

fellows jumped up and ran a sort of race to the rail she had been

leaning on. Alexander depassed the other two by a powerful leap over a

couple of chairs, leant upon the spot where the girl had been standing,

and stuck to it like a leech, though the other two tried to shove him

away, on pretext of embracing him affectionately. Severin spoke with

great solemnity of the clouds and the way they were floating, and

described, louder than was necessary, their shapes and figures.

Marzell, without listening to him, compared Bellevue to a Roman villa;

and, although he had just come back by way of Switzerland, said the

flat, bare, ugly country, with the lightning-conductors on the

powder-magazines--which he called 'masts surmounted by gleaming

stars'--was beautiful and romantic. Alexander contented himself with

saying it was a lovely evening, and the Webersche Zelt a charming spot.

"The family seemed to be preparing for a move. The old gentleman

knocked the ashes out of his pipe, the young lady put away her

knitting, and the boy sought--and called for--his cap, which, after a

little, the busy house poodle (who had been playing with it) brought

and laid down at his feet, and then stood looking up in his face, eager

to be of further service, and anxious to set about it at once (after

the nature of his kind). The friends' conversation subsided in tone.

The family bowed civilly to them as they passed, on which they, ducking

their heads faster and further than the occasion demanded, banged them

all three together with a resounding thwack. Ere they recovered from

this, the family had gone. Then they slunk, in gloomy silence, back to

their cold punch, which they found miserable. The imagery of the clouds

paled into cold darksome mist; Bellevue was Bellevue again, each

lightning-conductor a lightning-conductor, and the Webersche Zelt a

common refreshment shop. And, as there was hardly anybody else left in

the place, an unpleasant chill began to be perceptible, the very pipes

wouldn't keep alight; and the friends crept away, in a conversation

which only flared up for a moment now and then, like a burnt-out

candle. Severin left the others while they were still in the

Thiergarten, as he lived in it at the other end; and Marzell, turning

off at the Friedrich Strasse, left Alexander to wend his way to his

distant dwelling, and the society of his 'walking' aunt. It was on

account of the distance at which they lived from one another that they

had chosen a public place for their meetings, where they might see each

other on particular days of the week. They came, however, more for the

sake of keeping their promise than from any strong desire to see each

other. They found it impossible to hit back again upon the old

confidential tone which had formerly prevailed among them. Each of them

seemed to have something on his mind which destroyed all enjoyment and

freedom, and which he felt bound to keep to himself like some dark and

dangerous secret. In a very short time Severin suddenly disappeared

from Berlin altogether. Soon after that, Alexander complained, in a

highly despairing manner, that he had applied unsuccessfully for an

extension of his leave, and would be obliged to go away before he had

settled all the legal business connected with his heritage affairs, and

say good-bye to his nice, comfortable house.

"'But I thought you found it so uncanny to live in,' said Marzell.

'Isn't it pleasant to get away from the sound of your aunt "walking"

every night at twelve o'clock?'

"'Oh,' said Alexander, 'she's given that up some time ago; and I can

assure you that I regularly long for household ease and quietness, and

I shall most likely apply for my retirement almost at once, so as to

devote myself to art and literature altogether.'

"Indeed, Alexander was obliged to go away within a very few days. Soon

after that, the war broke out again, and Marzell had to rejoin the

army. So that the three friends were once more separated, almost before

they could be said to have met, in the proper sense of the word.

"Two years afterwards, when Whit Monday came round in due course,

Marzell, who had come back a second time from field service, was

standing leaning over the old balustrade, in the Webersche Zelt, and

revolving many things in his mind. Somebody tapped him on the shoulder,

and when he looked round, lo! Alexander and Severin were both there.

"'See how one comes across one's friends!' cried Alexander, joyfully.

'I was strolling along to keep an engagement, thinking of anything

rather than of seeing either of you here. Close past me goes a figure;

I couldn't believe my eyes, but it was Severin. I called to him; he

turned round, and was just as glad to see me as I was to meet him. I

asked him to come to my house, but he said he had an irresistible

desire to come here, so I gave up my engagement, and came here too. His

presentiment was right, you see; we have found you here!'

"'The truth is,' said Severin, 'that I felt quite certain I should find

_you_ here, and I hardly knew how to keep my patience till you came.'

"'Don't you think Severin looks remarkably well?' said Marzell; 'he has

quite got rid of that sickly pallor he used to have, and there are none

of those nasty cloud shadows which used to be upon his brow.'

"'I may say just the same of you, dear Marzell,' said Severin; 'for,

though you didn't look so seedy as I did--and I really was very far

from nourishing, either in body or mind--still, the strange depression

and perturbation of spirit you were in had so completely got the upper

hand with you, that it had turned your bright young face into the

likeness of a crabbed old gentleman's. I suspect both of us have passed

through a good deal of purifying purgatorial fire; and Alexander looks

as if he had done the same, for he had lost all his good-spirits

towards the end, and put on a damned medicine face, where one might

read, "a tablespoonful every hour." Whether it was the aunt that was at

the bottom of it, or, as I shrewdly suspect, something else, I don't

know; at all events, he seems to be a new man now, as well as we.'

"'You're quite right,' said Marzell; 'and, the more I look at the

fellow, the more clearly I see what wonders a comfortable income can

work here below. Had he ever such rosy cheeks?--such a rounded chin?

Don't these sweetly-smiling lips say, "The roast-beef was superior, and

the burgundy first quality"?'

"Severin laughed.

"'Observe,' said Marzell, taking Alexander by the arms and turning him

round, 'what superfine cloth his coat's made of! Look at the dazzling

whiteness of his linen!--that splendid gold chain with about seven

hundred seals! Tell us, lad, how you have managed to turn out such a

terrific swell? It's so unlike what you used to be. One might almost

have said of you, quoting Sir John Falstaff, that you might be wrapped

in an eel-skin; and now you're getting almost pudgy. What does it all

mean?'

"'Well,' said Alexander, blushing a little, 'have you got anything more

to say about me? You know I took my retirement a year ago, and am

leading a happy, comfortable life?'

"'The fact is,' said Severin, who had not been listening much to what

Marzell was saying, but had been standing lost in thought, 'we parted

in a strange sort of fashion; not at all as old friends should.'

"'You, in particular,' said Alexander, 'for you went off without saying

a word to either of us.'

"'Ah!' said Severin, 'I was in the height of a phase of most

extraordinary folly just then, and so were you, and Marzell, too,

for----'

"He suddenly stopped, and the three looked at one another with

sparkling eyes, like people all struck at once by the same idea, like

an electric shock. While Severin had been speaking, they had been going

along arm-in-arm, and they now found they were at the very table where

the beautiful creature who had turned all their heads two years before

had been sitting that day. What their eyes all said was, 'There! there

is the place where she was sitting!' There was a strong feeling as if

she were coming back again. Marzell was beginning to move out the

chairs. However, they went on, and Alexander had a table set out on the

spot where they themselves had been sitting that eventful Whit Monday.

The coffee had come; but neither of them had spoken a word, and

Alexander seemed the most embarrassed of the three. The waiter stood

waiting for his money. He looked in amazement from one of these

speechless customers to another; he rubbed his hands; he coughed; at

last he said, in a feebly voice:

"'Shall I bring some rum, gentlemen?'

"On which they looked in each other's faces, and burst out into fits of

extravagant laughter.

"Oh, Lord!' cried the waiter, starting back a couple of paces, 'they're

all off their heads!'

"Alexander calmed him by paying for the coffee, and, when he had gone,

Severin began:

"'What I was just going to say, we have all represented in pantomime;

and the denouement, with the "moral" of the story as well, were

expressed by that hearty burst of laughter of ours. This day two years

ago, we all fell into a condition of the most egregious folly; we're

ashamed of it now, and completely cured.'

"'The fact was,' said Marzell, 'that that exquisitely beautiful

creature turned all our heads to a frightful extent.'

"'Exquisitely beautiful!' said Alexander; 'exquisitely beautiful,

indeed! But,' he continued, with a little dash of anxiety in his tone,

'you say, Marzell, that we are all quite cured of our folly--_id est_,

of our having lost our hearts to that girl whom we none of us knew

anything about. Now let me ask you one thing. If she were to come back

here again to-day, and sit down in her old place, shouldn't we fall

back into the old folly again, just as we did before?'

"'For my part,' said Severin, 'I'm quite certain, beyond the

possibility of any mistake about it, that I am most thoroughly cured of

it.'

"'And so am I," said Marzell, quite as unmistakeably. Nobody was ever

made such a thorough ass of as I was, when I came to a closer

acquaintance with that incomparable lady.'

"'"Closer acquaintance?--incomparable lady?"' interrupted Alexander

eagerly.

"'Well, yes,' said Marzell; 'it's impossible to deny the fact that that

adventure of ours here, which I might almost call a novelette in one

volume, was followed in my case by a regular screaming farce.'

"'My luck was no better,' said Severin. 'Only, if your novelette was in

one volume, and your farce in one act, all I played in was a little

duodecimo sheet, and a single scene.'

"During this, Alexander's face had got red as fire; the perspiration

stood on his forehead; his breath came short and quick, he ran his

hands through his curly hair; in short, he showed every symptom of the

greatest excitement, and was so clearly unable to retain any control

over himself that Marzell cried:

"What on earth's the matter with you, my dear fellow? What are you

getting into such a state of mind about?'

"He's simply over head and ears in love still with the lady whom we've

given up,' said Severin, laughing, 'and he doesn't believe us, doesn't

think it possible we can have had our little romances or novelettes; at

all events, he's getting infernally jealous. And I'm sure he may save

himself the trouble. I was most abominably treated, at all events.'

"So was I, in a way,' said Marzell, 'and I give you my word that the

spark which fell into my heart that Whit Monday has gone out most

completely, beyond the possibility of ever being kindled again. So you

may be as deeply in love with the lady as ever you like!'

"'So you may as far as I'm concerned too,' said Severin.

"Alexander, now quite reassured again, laughed very heartily, and said:

"'You were right about me, to a certain extent, though you're partly on

a wrong scent, too. So just listen a moment. It is quite true that,

when I remembered that eventful afternoon, that lovely girl, in all her

marvellous attractiveness, came so vividly to my mind's eye that I

fancied I could hear her beautiful voice, and touch her white, delicate

hand as she held it out to me. I felt as though it was to her alone

that I could devote the whole affection of my heart and being, and as

if I never could be happy without her! Now, supposing this to be true,

just think what a terrible thing it would be!'

"'What for? Why on earth?' cried Severin and Marzell, both together.

"'Because I have been married for the last year,' answered Alexander

quietly.

"You married, for the last year?' the friends cried, clapping their

hands, and then shouting with laughter. 'Who is it? Is she

nice-looking? Rich, poor, young, old: how, when, what, where?'

"Alexander stopped his ears. 'I beg of you,' he cried imploringly, as

he leant his left hand on the table, and with the right (on the little

finger whereof the betrothal ring glittered, beside a chrysophrase)

took the spoon and stirred his coffee. 'I implore you to spare me all

these questions, and, if you would do me a real favour, tell me what

happened to you after our adventure here with the lady.'

"'Ay! ay! brother!' said Marzell; 'it strikes me you haven't made a

very good job of it. It isn't Falter's little witch, is it?'

"'If you have any real regard for me,' said Alexander, 'please don't

badger me with questions, but let me hear about your own adventures.'

"'It's the ghost's doing,' said Severin. 'He felt himself compelled to

add some wife or another to his collection of pots and pans and plate

and household linen. So there he sits, with a heart torn with regret

and forbidden love; though that flourishing exterior of his doesn't

quite seem to suit that theory either. What does the aunt, of the

stomach drops, say to it all?'

"'She is highly satisfied,' said Alexander. 'But oh! if you have any

real commiseration for me, if you don't want to embitter for ever this

occasion of our meeting again after all this time, do, for Heaven's

sake, leave off your damnable questions, and begin your stories.'

"They saw that Alexander was so terribly in earnest, that it would be

cruelty to keep him on tenter-hooks any longer. So Marzell at once

began his part of the tale, as follows:

"'We all admit and know that, this day two years ago, a very pretty

girl turned all our heads at the first glance; that we conducted

ourselves as young asses do in such circumstances, and couldn't shake

off the insanity which had come upon us. Night and day, wherever I

went, that girl's image haunted me. She went with me to the War Office,

into the Secretary of State's private sanctum; she came to meet me out

of his writing-table, and confused all my finely turned official

periods with her beautiful eyes, so that people asked me, with

melancholy faces, if the old wound in my head was troubling me again.

To see her again was my goal, the object of all my restless efforts. 1

ran from one street to another like a letter-carrier, from morning till

night. I looked up at all the well-to-do people's windows, all in vain.

Every afternoon I used to come to the Webersche Zelt here.'

"So did I! So did I!' cried Severin and Alexander.

"'I used to see you,' said Marzell, 'but I kept carefully out of your

way.'

"That's exactly what we did, too,' they all cried _in tutti_.' Oh, what

infernal donkeys!'

"'It was no use,' said Marzell. 'But I had neither peace nor rest. The

very idea that she was in love with somebody else already, that I could

but perish in hopeless misery, even if ever I succeeded in making her

acquaintance; that I should only then clearly find out the extent of my

misery, to wit, her inconsolable regret for the man she had lost, her

love for him, and her fidelity--I say, just this very idea was what

fanned the fire within me to a terrific pitch of fury. The tragic

pictures of her condition which Severin painted here for us came back

to my mind, and, while I piled up all imaginable love-misfortunes on to

her head, I seemed to myself to be the more unfortunate of the two. In

my sleepless nights, and on lonely walks, I used to spin the wildest

and most ingenious romances, in which, of course, the unknown lover and

I myself played the leading parts. No scenes were too improbable to be

introduced into these imaginary dramas of mine, and I was immensely

delighted with myself in my character of the hero, resigned to suffer a

hopeless passion. As I have said, I went all over the town, in the most

senseless manner, searching for her who ruled my thoughts and my whole

being. Very well; one forenoon, I found myself in the new street called

"Green Street;" and, as I was strolling along there, deep in thought,

a young gentleman stopped me, took off his hat politely, and asked if I

could tell him where Mr. Asling, the Geheime Rath, lived in that

street. I said I could not. But the name "Asling" struck me, somehow.

"Asling? Asling?" I said to myself. Then, all at once I remembered that

my romantic passion had so occupied my head that I had forgotten all

about a letter for this very Mr. Asling, which a nephew of his (whom I

had left, wounded, in hospital at Deutz) had given me to deliver to

him. I determined to atone for this unpardonable oversight at once. I

saw that a shopkeeper directed the young gentleman to a fine-looking

house just over the way, and I followed him. I was shown into an

anteroom, and the servant begged me to wait there a few minutes, his

master being engaged with a strange gentleman. He left me alone there,

and I was glancing carelessly at the engravings on the wall, when the

door behind me opened, I turned round, and saw _her_! her very self,

the beautiful creature whom we saw in the Thiergarten. I really cannot

describe to you with any clearness what my feelings were, but I know I

could scarcely breathe, couldn't utter a syllable, and felt ready to

fall down at the angel's feet.'

"Ay, ay!' said Alexander, rather astonished; 'then you were really very

seriously in love with her, old fellow?'

"'At all events,' continued Marzell, 'my feelings at that moment were

those of the wildest devotion. My state of consternation and

speechlessness must have been queer enough to see, for Pauline looked

at me as if she were considerably alarmed; and as I couldn't utter a

syllable, and she very naturally thought I must be either a bumpkin or

a born idiot, she said at last, with a delicate smile of irony just

fluttering over her lips, "You're waiting to see my father, are you

not?" The bitter shame that I felt for myself gave me back complete

self-control. I pulled myself together with an effort: I told her my

name with a courteous bow, and explained the commission which I was

entrusted with for the Geheime Rath. On this Pauline cried, loudly and

joyfully:

"'"Oh, how delightful! News of my cousin? You have met him: you know

him; you've spoken to him? I don't believe his letters. He always says

he's almost well. Do, please, let me know the worst. He'll be lame for

life, won't he, poor fellow?"'

"'I assured her, as I was quite justified in doing, that the

bullet-wound which had nearly fractured his kneecap, though it certainly

had been dangerous at one time, and though amputation had been talked of,

was now so very much better that there was no more danger, and that, as

he was a fine healthy young fellow, there was every prospect of his

soon being able to leave off his crutches, which he had been obliged to

use for a month or two.

"'As I got more accustomed to be actually looking at Pauline, to see

her eyes, to be under the magic spell of her presence, and having got a

little of my confidence back, from talking about these matters of fact,

I took heart of grace, and told her all about the action where her

cousin got wounded. We had both been in this action together, serving

in the same battalion, as it happened. You know how one manages, in

such a case, to give a pretty graphic and vivid account of things, and,

indeed, is rather apt to get--more than is quite called for--into that

emphatic and picturesque "manner" which never fails in its effect upon

young women. Of course you will understand that I didn't dwell so much

upon the disposition of the troops, the plan of attack, the "general

idea" of the operations, the feigned attacks, masked batteries,

debouching and development of the cavalry arm, etc., etc., as upon the

minor incidents of a more personal kind, which are what really interest

friends at home. Many an incident which I scarcely noticed when it

happened put on quite an interesting and affecting appearance when I

was telling her about it; and thus it came about that Pauline was

sometimes pale from sorrow and alarm, and at other times smiling gently

through her tears.

"'"Ah!" she said, "when I came in just now, and you were standing so

still and so thoughtfully, looking at that picture of a battle, it must

have been recalling some painful memory to your mind."

"'A red-hot dart seemed to go through my heart at this. I suppose I

must have turned as red as blood.

"'"What I was thinking of," I said, "was probably the happiest moment

of my life, though at that moment I received a mortal wound."

"'"But you've quite got over it, have you not?" she asked with much

anxious sympathy. "I suppose some bullet struck you at the moment of

victory?"

"'I felt a good deal of an ass; but I suppressed this feeling to the

best of my power, and without looking up, but fixing my eyes on the

ground like some naughty schoolboy who has just been having a blowing

up, I said in a feeble voice:

"'"I have had the pleasure of seeing you before."

"'Then the conversation went on in most edifying fashion, Pauline

saying:

"'"Oh, really, I didn't know!"

"'"Yes," I went on; "it was such magnificent spring weather, and I was

enjoying it with two friends of mine, whom I hadn't seen for several

years."

"'"Ah! that must have been very nice," she said.

"'"I saw you, Miss Asling," I said.

"'"Did you really?" she answered. Oh, that must have been in the

Thiergarten."

"'"Yes," said I; "one Whit Monday, in the Webersche Zelt."

"'"Yes, yes; quite right," cried Pauline. "I was there with my father

and mother. There was a great crowd of people. I enjoyed it immensely.

But I don't remember seeing you."

"My former state of idiocy came back upon me in full force, and I was

on the point of saying something very absurd, when the Geheime Rath

came in, to whom Pauline announced with much joy that I had brought a

letter from her cousin. The old gentleman was charmed, and cried:

"'"What! a letter from Leopold! He's alive, then? How's his wound

getting on? When will he be able to be moved?"

"'And with that he took me by the lapels of the coat, and led me into

his own room. Pauline followed; he called for breakfast, and asked

endless questions. In short, I had to stay two good hours, and when at

last I tore myself away with much difficulty (for Pauline sat close

beside me, and kept looking me in the eyes with childlike

unconstraint), he put his arm about my shoulders and begged me to come

in as often as I could--at breakfast-time, for preference.

"'I was now (as often happens in field service) right in the thick of

the fire, without expecting it. If I were to detail to you the tortures

that I underwent; how I often, as if impelled by some irresistible

power, rushed away to that house which appeared to me a place so fatal

to my peace; how I used to drop the bell-handle, without ringing it,

and go home, then go back again, wander round and round the house, and

at last go bursting into it, like a moth which can't keep away from the

candle which is to burn it to a cinder, verily you would laugh, because

you anticipate my admission that at that time I was deliberately making

myself an ass of the very first water. Nearly every evening when I went

I found a number of people there, and I must say that I never was so

happy as I was on these occasions, and in that house; notwithstanding

that, in the character of my own "daemon" or warning angel, I mentally

gave myself constant digs in the ribs, and cried into my own ears,

"You're a lost man! It's all up with you."

"Every night I went home more hopelessly in love and more intensely

miserable. I soon felt convinced, from Pauline's happy, untroubled

behaviour, that any thing like an unhappy love-affair on her part was

quite out of the question; and frequent allusions of the guests clearly

pointed to the fact that she was engaged, and would soon be married.

There was a great amount of pleasant, jovial fun and merriment about

the whole circle. It was quite a peculiarity of that house; and Asling

himself--a fine, vigorous, jolly fellow, in first-rate health and

well-to-do circumstances--was the leading spirit in all this. Often

there seemed to be schemes of fun and mystification, on an extensive

scale, on the _tapis_, which I, as a comparative outsider, not knowing

the persons and circumstances, wasn't admitted to share in. There was

generally great laughter and amusement going on among the _habitues_

over these affairs. I remember that one time when, after a long

struggle with myself, I had yielded to the temptation and gone in

rather late, I found the old gentleman and Pauline sitting in one of

the windows with a group of young ladies round them. The old gentleman

was reading something out to them; and when he had finished there was a

ringing burst of laughter. To my astonishment he had a big nightcap in

his hand, with an enormous bunch of carnations stuck on to it; this,

after saying a word or two more, he put on his head, and nodded out of

the window with it several times, moving his head up and down, at which

they all burst out laughing again tremendously.'

"'Damnation! damnation!' cried Severin, getting up from his chair, and

walking about.

"'What's the matter with you?' cried the other two anxiously.

"'Nothing! oh, nothing!' he said; 'I'm all right. Go on, my dear

fellow, go on, that's all. Let's hear the rest of it.'

"He repeated this request, not without laughing bitterly within

himself. Marzell went on:

"'I don't know whether it was from my having been a comrade of his

nephew, or because the curious state I always was in on account of my

continual condition of excitement endowed me with some odd interest in

his eyes. But at all events the old gentleman soon took a great liking

to me, and I should have been utterly blind had I not observed that

Pauline evidently cared much more for me than for any of the other

fellows who came about her.'

"'Really! really!' said Alexander, in a tone of anxiety.

"'There could be no doubt about it,' continued Marzell, and no wonder

that I should have got nearer to her liking; because, like any girl

with a head on her shoulders, she couldn't, with her delicate tact,

help hearing in every thing that I said (or did) a full-choired hymn in

praise of her marvellous attractiveness, my deepest devotion to that

whole nature of hers, instinct with the most passionate fervour. She

would often let her hand remain in mine for minutes, she would return

my gentle pressure, and, once, when the girls were all waltzing to the

rather wheezy old piano, she came into my arm, and I felt her bosom

rising and falling, and her sweet breath on my cheek. I was beside

myself. Fire burned on my lips. I should have kissed her in a minute.'

"'The devil! the devil!' roared Alexander, jumping up like a man

possessed, and grabbing hold of his hair with both hands.

"'For shame! for shame! remember you're a married man,' said Severin,

pushing him back into his chair again. 'I'll be hanged if you're not

daft about Pauline at this moment, married though you be. Think shame

of yourself, wretched Benedict, with your neck fast in the yoke.'

"'Well! go on with your story,' said Alexander, in an inconsolable

tone, 'we shall hear of fine goings on, I can see.'

"From what I have told you,' continued Marzell, 'you can form some idea

of my state of mind. I was torn by a thousand passions, and worked

myself up to the highest pitch of heroism. I made up my mind that I

would quaff the brimming cup of poison, and then go and breathe out

what was left to me of life far, far away from the beloved one. In

other words, I meant to tell her I loved her, and then avoid her, till

the wedding day, at all events; for then I meant to do as the heroes in

so many novels do, that is, look on at the ceremony concealed behind a

pillar in the church, and after the fatal "yes" fall down at full

length, with a tremendous crash, senseless on the floor; be carried out

by the sympathizing spectators, and so forth. Possessed with this idea,

I went to the house earlier than usual one day, like a man out of his

mind. I found Pauline alone in the drawing-room, and, before she had

time to be frightened at my agitated condition, I fell at her feet,

seized her hands, pressed them to my heart, vowed that I loved her to

distraction, and, pouring out a flood of tears, said I was the most

miserable of mankind, doomed to a cruel death, as she had given her

heart and promised her hand to another, before we had met. Pauline let

me rage out what I had to say; then, with a charming smile, she made me

rise and sit down by her on the sofa, and then she asked me, in a voice

of gentle concern:

"'"What's the matter with you? Please calm yourself, dear Mr. Marzell,

you're in a state which terrifies me."

"'I repeated all I had said before, more coherently however. Then

Pauline said:

"'"But how did you ever get it in your head that I'm in love with

anybody, or engaged to be married? There's not a word of truth in

either the one story or the other, I can assure you."

"'I maintained, on the other hand, that I had been quite certain ever

since the first moment I had set eyes on her that she was in love; and

as she kept pressing me to explain more clearly, I told her the whole

story of that first Monday of ours in the Webersche Zelt. Scarcely had

I finished it when Pauline got up and danced about the room with shouts

of laughter, crying:

"'"Oh! good gracious! It's too delicious altogether! Well! what dreams!

what ludicrous absurdities to take in one's head! Oh! I never heard

anything like it! it's really beyond everything!"

"'I sat nonplussed; Pauline came back to me, took me by the hands, and

shook me by them, as one does to rouse a person from a deep sleep.

"'"Now please to listen to what I'm going to tell you," she said,

trying hard, but not very successfully, to restrain her laughter. "The

young man whom you took for a messenger of love was a shopman from

Bramigk, the draper's; the note he gave me was from Bramigk himself.

He, like the most charming and courteous of shopkeepers as he is, had

promised to get me a hat from Paris (I had admired the pattern when I

saw it), and to let me know as soon as it arrived. I wanted it

particularly to wear the evening of that Whit Monday when we were all

in the Webersche Zelt. I wanted to put it on to go to a singing tea in;

you know what we call a singing tea here? A place where people sing in

order to drink tea, and drink tea for the purpose of singing. Very

well! The hat had come, but it was so badly made that it had to be all

altered before I could wear it. This was the fatal news that made me

shed a tear or two. I didn't want my father to see that it had made me

cry, but he soon found out what I was vexed about, and chaffed me

unmercifully on the subject. You know I have a habit of holding my

handkerchief to my face, as I did that day, when anything annoys me?"

"Pauline burst out laughing again. But a bitter frost seemed to go

through my veins and marrow, and a voice within me seemed to cry,

"Wretched, shallow, disgusting dress-worshipper!"

"'Come, come!' interrupted Alexander, 'that's terribly severe, and not

true of her. I call it going too far.... However, let's hear the rest

of your story.'

"'My feelings,' said Marzell, 'I really cannot describe to you. I had

awakened from the mocking dream in which some wicked demon had held me

enthralled. I felt, now, that I had never really been in love with

Pauline, but had only been the sport of some incomprehensible

self-mystification. I could scarcely find a syllable to say; my whole

body shook and trembled with rage and vexation. When Pauline, in alarm,

asked what was the matter with me, I pretended that I was taken

suddenly unwell, and I fled, like a hunted deer, out of the house for

ever. As I was crossing the square of the Gendarmerie, I saw a body of

volunteers falling in to march off and join the army. This showed me

clearly the course I ought to adopt, for the calming of my mind, and to

forget this miserable business. Instead of going home, I went off and

enrolled myself for service in the field. Everything was arranged in a

couple of hours' time. I ran home, put on my uniform, packed my

knapsack, took my musket and bayonet, and went to hand over to the

charge of my landlady what things I was going to leave behind. While I

was talking to her, I heard some commotion going on on the stairs

outside.

"'"Ah! they're bringing him down," said the landlady, and opened the

door. I saw Nettelmann, the madman, coming down between two keepers. He

had on a lofty crown of gilt paper, and was carrying a long ruler, with

a gilt apple on the top of it.

"'"He thinks he's King of Amboyna again, now," the landlady whispered,

"and he's been doing such extraordinary things of late that his brother

has had to have him taken to the asylum."

"'He recognized me; smiled down at me with proud benignity, and said,

"Now that the Bulgarians have been vanquished by our trusty General

Tellheim, we are returning to our capital."

"Though I wasn't making any attempt to speak to him, he motioned me to

silence with a wave of his hand, and said:

"'Enough, enough! we are aware what you would say, good sir. No more!

We are satisfied with you; you have done your duty. Accept this trifle

as a mark of our favour and esteem."

"'With which he took two or three cloves from his waistcoat-pocket and

put them into my hand. The men put him into a carriage which was

waiting. The tears came to my eyes as I saw him driven off.

"'"I hope we soon shall see you back again, safe and sound, and covered

with glory," said the landlady, shaking me warmly by the hand. With

many a painful thought in my tormented breast, I ran out into the

night, and soon came up with the party of my comrades, who were singing

cheery soldier-songs as they marched along.'

"'Then,' said Alexander, 'you feel certain that your love for Pauline

was a mere self-mystification?'

"'As sure as that I'm alive,' answered Marzell; 'and it won't require

much knowledge of mankind to convince you that my rapid change of

sentiment, when I found I hadn't a rival, would have been impossible

otherwise. Moreover, I am seriously in love now; and although I laughed

at the notion of your being married, because the idea of you in the

capacity of Paterfamilias seems rather too funny, somehow (I hope you

won't be vexed at my saying so), I am expecting very soon to lead a

darling girl home as my bride, in a fairer land than ours.'

"'I'm very glad, and I give you my heartiest congratulations, my dear,

dear old fellow,' said Alexander, quite delighted.

"'See how pleased he is that somebody else is going to follow his own

absurd example,' said Severin. 'As far as I'm concerned, the idea of

marriage fills me with absolute horror. However, I should like to tell

you the adventure I had with Pauline; it will amuse you.'

"'Well, what had you to do with Pauline?' asked Alexander, in an

irritable tone, 'We must hear that.'

"'It didn't amount to very much,' said Severin, 'compared to Marzell's

long tale, with all its psychological remarks and illustrations. Mine

is a very commonplace piece of fun. You know that, about this time two

years ago, I was in a very strange condition altogether. Probably it

was the state of my health, which was very queer at that time, which

had converted me into a terribly sensitive, overstrung, fanciful

spirit-seer. I was always floating on a boundless ocean of dreams and

presentiments. I thought I understood the language of birds, like a

Persian Mage. I heard voices in the rustling of the trees, sometimes of

warning, sometimes of consolation. I saw my own image wandering in the

clouds of the sky. Very well! It happened one day, when I was sitting

in a lonely part of the Thiergarten on a bank of grass, that I got into

a condition which I can only compare to that species of delirium which

one often feels just when one is falling asleep. I seemed to be

suddenly surrounded with the scent of a most delicious rose, but at the

same time I became aware that this rose odour really was a beautiful

being, whom I had long, though unconsciously, loved with the deepest

and most passionate devotion. I strove to see her with my corporeal

eyes; but it seemed to me that a great, dark-red carnation was laid on

my brow, and the scent of this carnation burned away the rose perfume,

as with a scorching ray, benumbing my senses so that a bitter sense of

pain took possession of me, which strove to find expression in accents

of wild anguish. Through the trees came sighing a sound like that when

the evening wind touches the AEolian Harp with a gentle waft of its

pinions, and breaks the spell which holds the music prisoned and

sleeping within the strings. But this was not _my_ sound. It was that

of the beautiful being who was stricken to death (as I was also) by the

hostile contact of the carnation. If I may put this vision of mine into

the form of an Indian myth, I might say that the rose and the carnation

represented, for me, life and death; and all the absurdities which I

said and perpetrated this day two years ago were chiefly due to the

circumstance that in that beautiful creature, who was sitting in that

chair there, and who has since assumed the corporeal form of Pauline

Asling, I fancied I recognized her whose love had disclosed itself to

me in the form of the rose perfume. You remember that I got away from

you as soon as I could, leaving you in the Thiergarten. A sure

presentiment told me that if I made an effort, and got quickly through

the Leipzig gate, and then to Unter den Linden, I should meet the

family, at the slow rate they were walking at, somewhere near the

castle; so I ran as hard as I could; and I did meet them, very near the

place where I had thought I should. I followed them at a little

distance, and found out, that same evening, where the beautiful

creature lived. You will probably laugh when I tell you that I thought

I could scent a mysterious perfume of rose and carnation, actually in

Green Street itself. For the rest, I conducted myself like some boy in

a state of calf-love, who destroys the finest trees, contrary to the

forest regulations, by carving interlaced initials on them, and carries

about a withered petal, which the beloved has dropped, next his heart,

wrapped in seven pieces of paper. That is, I used to pass under her

window twelve, fifteen, or twenty times a-day; and if I saw her at it,

I would stare at her, without any salutation, in a way which must have

been funny enough. Heaven only knows how I arrived at the conviction

that she understood me, and was fully conscious of the psychical

influence which she had exerted on me in that flower-vision, and

recognized in me him over whom the hostile carnation had cast a dark

pall as he was striving to clasp her, who had thus risen as a planet of

love in the depths of his being. That very day I sat down and wrote to

her. I told her my vision; how I had then seen her at the Webersche

Zelt, and known her as the being of my dream. I said I knew she fancied

she loved another, and that in this connection something disastrous had

come into her life. There could be no doubt, I said, that she, like me,

had become aware of our intimate psychic relation, and our mutual

devotion, in some dream-consciousness such as my own; though perhaps it

was but now that my vision had clearly revealed to her all that had

been slumbering in the depths of her nature; but, in order that this

might come, joyfully and gladsomely, into actual life, so that I might

approach her with a heart at rest, I implored her to be at the window

the next day, at twelve o'clock, and, as an unmistakeable symbol of our

happy love, to wear fresh-blown roses on her breast. Should she,

however, be irresistibly drawn away from her _rapport_ with me, through

hostile deception, by some other--if she rejected me without remead--I

asked her to wear carnations instead of roses. The letter was probably

a mad and senseless affair. That I am prepared to admit now. I sent it

by such a trusty messenger that I knew it would reach the proper hands.

Full of inward anxiety, and with a heavy heart, I went the next day at

twelve o'clock to Green Street. I neared the house. I saw a white form

at the window. My heart throbbed so that it almost burst my bosom. I

came in front of the house. The old gentleman--he was the white

figure--opened the window. He had a great white nightcap on, with a large

bunch of carnations stuck in front of it. He nodded in a friendly way,

so that the flowers waved and quivered; he wafted kisses of his hand at

me, with the sweetest smiles. Just then I caught sight of Pauline, as

well, peeping out from behind the curtains. She was laughing! I had

been standing motionless, like a man under a spell; but when I saw her,

I rushed away like a mad creature. There! you can understand, if you

had any doubt about it before, that this cured me completely; but the

shame of it would not let me rest. As Marzell did later, I went off at

once to join the troops on active service, and nothing but the

adversity of fate prevented us from meeting again.'

"Alexander laughed immoderately over the humorous old gentleman.

"'Then this,' said Marzell, 'was what he was after that time when I

found him with the nightcap; and of course it was your letter that he

was reading to the girls.'

"'Of course,' said Severin; 'and although I can see the absurdity of

the thing now, and think the old gentleman was perfectly right, and

feel really obliged to him for the drasticity and appropriateness of

the dose of medicine he made me swallow, still that adventure of mine

causes me the most intense annoyance, and, to this hour, I can't endure

the sight of a carnation.'

"'Well,' said Marzell, 'we've both been pretty severely punished for

our folly. Alexander, who doesn't seem to have fallen in love with

Pauline till we had gone through with our share of the business, turns

out to have been the wisest of the three: and, for that reason, he has

kept clear of further absurdities, and has none to tell us about.'

"'But, at all events,' said Severin, 'he can tell us how he came by his

wife.'

"Really, my dear old fellow,' said Alexander, 'there's very little to

tell; except that I saw her, fell in love with her, and married her.

But there's one thing connected with it which may interest you, because

my aunt has to do with it.'

"'Well! well! tell us!' they both cried.

"'You will remember,' said Alexander, 'that at that time I left Berlin,

and my house--uncanny though it was to me by reason of my aunt's

"walking" in it at night--greatly against my will. The connection of

all these matters was as follows. One fine morning, after T had been

terribly disturbed the whole of the night by tappings and rappings in

all directions--which came into the room where I was sleeping, this

time--I was lying in the window seat, quite tired and exhausted, and

excessively out of temper and annoyed with the whole affair. I was

looking out into the street mechanically, when, right opposite, in the

big house over the way, a window opened, and a most beautiful girl in a

pretty morning dress looked out. Much as I had admired Pauline, I

thought her whom I then saw more charming still. I couldn't withdraw my

eyes from her. At last she looked down; she couldn't help seeing me. I

made her a greeting, and she returned it with indescribable

pleasantness of manner. I found out from Mistress Anne who the people

who lived there were, and I made up my mind that I must make their

acquaintance somehow, so as to get nearer to her. It was an odd thing

that, as soon as my thoughts were occupied with this young lady, and I

was wholly sunk in sweet love-dreams about her, all the supernatural

noises connected with my aunt ceased. Mistress Anne, whom I made as

much of as ever I could, and who had quite got over her dread of me,

often told me a good deal about my aunt. She was inconsolable because

the poor soul, who had led such a pious, and exemplary life, could find

no rest in her grave, and she laid all the blame upon the man who had

treated her so cruelly, and the insuperable disappointment she had

suffered on her wedding day--that was to have been. I told her, with

much joy, that I never heard anything at night now.

"'"Ah!" she cried, with tears in her voice, "if the Feast of the

Invention of the Cross were only over!"

"'"What is there specially about the Feast of the Invention of the

Cross?" I quickly asked.

"'"Oh, good gracious!" she answered, "don't you know? That was to have

been her marriage day. She died on the third of April, you remember.

That day week she was buried. The executor put seals on all the rooms

except the big drawing-room and the closet off it; so I had to live in

them, though I felt it terribly, I couldn't tell why. When day was

dawning on the morning of the Feast of the Invention of the Cross, I

felt an icy hand on my forehead, and distinctly heard your aunt's voice

say 'Get up, Anne! Get up! it's time for you to dress me; the

bridegroom's coming.' I jumped out of bed, terribly frightened, and

hurried on my clothes. Everything was silent, and there was only a cold

air moving through the room. Mimi kept on whimpering and whining, and

even Hans--contrarily to cat-nature--groaned, and pressed himself,

frightened, into corners. Then presses and cupboards seemed to be being

opened, and there was the sound of the rustling of a silk dress, and a

voice singing a morning hymn. I heard all this distinctly, master, but

I saw nothing. Terror nearly overmastered me, but I knelt down in a

corner and prayed fervently. Then a small table seemed to be being

moved, and glasses and teacups set out on it; footsteps went up and

down the room. I couldn't stir, and--what more shall I say?--I heard

the mistress going about, just as she always had done on that unlucky

day, sobbing and sighing; till the clock struck ten, when I distinctly

heard the words 'Go to your bed, Anne; it's all over now.' Then I fell

down insensible, and the people found me lying there in the morning

when they broke open the door, for they thought something must have

happened to me as they had seen or heard nothing of me. But I've never

told anybody about it except you."

"'From my own experience, I couldn't doubt that everything had happened

as the old woman described it, and I was glad I hadn't arrived sooner,

so as to have had to go through it myself. It was just at this very

time, when the ghost seemed to be laid, and I was living in the

sweetest of hopes and anticipations, that I was obliged to leave

Berlin; and that was the cause of my annoyance, which you noticed

yourselves. But before six months were over I had taken my retirement,

and then I came back as quickly as possible. I very soon managed to

make the acquaintance of the family over the way, and I found the young

lady, who had seemed so fascinating at first sight, to be even more

charming and attractive in every respect on closer acquaintance, so

that I felt that the happiness of my life was wholly bound up in her. I

don't know quite why, but I always thought she was in love with someone

else; and this opinion was confirmed once when the conversation

happened to turn on a certain young gentleman, at the mention of whom

tears came to her eyes and she rose and left the room. Still, I put no

constraint on my feelings, but, without actually saying anything to

her, I allowed her to see the affection which fettered me to her. She

appeared to like me better every day, and to be much gratified with my

homage, which took the form of a thousand little attentions calculated

to please her.'

"'Never,' cried Marzell, interrupting Alexander in his story 'never

should I have believed that this inexperienced, uncouth sort of a

fellow would have been capable of all that. He's a spirit-seer and a

lover _a la mode_ rolled into one. But now that he tells us about it, I

believe it, and see him pervading all the shops to get some piece of

head gear the young lady had a fancy for, or rushing into Bouche's, out

of breath, to buy the finest roses and carnations----'

"To the devil with these damnable flowers!' cried Severin.

"Alexander went on with his story:

"'Don't suppose I made her any valuable presents; I knew better. That

wasn't the sort of thing to go down in that house, I soon saw. What I

did was to associate apparently unimportant civilities and attentions

with myself, personally. I never appeared without bringing some pattern

she had wanted, or a new song, or some book which she hadn't seen, or

something of the kind. If I didn't call every forenoon for half an hour

or so, I was missed. In short, why should I bother you with tiresome

details? My relations with her passed into that pleasant phase of

confidential intimacy which leads to love-avowal, and to marriage. But

I wished to get rid of the very shadow of the last remaining cloud,

and, therefore, in a pleasant hour I spoke, straight out, of my

foregone conclusion that she either then liked somebody else, or had

done so previously; and I mentioned all the circumstances which led me

to this conclusion, speaking particularly of the young gentleman, the

mention of whom had brought tears to her eyes.

"'"I must confess to you," she said, "that longer intercourse with that

gentleman--whom a mere chance brought to the house, as a perfect

stranger might have been dangerous to my peace of mind, and, indeed, I

did feel a strong regard for him growing in me; and that is why I am

always so sorry, when I think of the terrible misfortune which parted

us, that I can't help crying."

"'"The terrible misfortune which parted you?" I inquired.

"'"Yes," she said; "I never knew any man whose conversation, and

intellect, and whole character, had such a power over me, altogether.

But I couldn't deny, what my father always said, that he was

continually in a most strangely excited condition. This I attributed to

causes which we knew nothing about, perhaps some deep impression made

upon his mind by something that had happened to him during the war,

which he had been serving in; though my father thought drink was the

cause of it. But I was right, as the event proved. One day he found me

alone, and exhibited a state of mind, which I at first took for an

outburst of the most passionate affection. But by-and-by, when he ran

away, trembling in every limb as with a frost, and uttering

unintelligible cries, I could only conclude it was insanity, and so it

was, poor fellow! He had once happened to mention his address, and I

remembered it. After we had seen nothing of him for some weeks, my

father sent there to make inquiries. The landlady--or rather, the

porter who waited on the lodgers--told our servant that he had gone mad

some time before, and been taken to the asylum. I suppose it must have

been lottery speculations which turned his head, for it seems he

thought he was king of the Ambe."'

"'Good gracious!' cried Marzell, 'that must have been Nettelmann.

Ambe--Amboyna.'

"'It may have been some confusion,' said Severin under his breath. 'I

seem to see daylight through it, but go on, please.'

"Alexander looked at Severin with a sad smile, and then continued:

"'My mind was now at ease, and soon the young lady and I were engaged,

and the wedding day fixed. I wanted to sell my house, for the ghostly

noises were still heard in it now and then. But my father-in-law

advised me not to do so, and so it came about that I told him the whole

story. He is a jovial sort of man, full of vital energy; but he grew

deeply thoughtful over this, and spoke about it in a way that I hadn't

expected.

"'"People used to have a pious simple faith," he said. "We believed in

another world, but we admitted the feebleness of our senses. Then came

'enlightenment,' and made everything so very clear and enlightened,

that we can see nothing for excess of light, and go banging our noses

against the first tree we come to in the wood. We insist, now-a-days,

on grasping the other world with stretched-out arms of flesh and bone.

Keep you the house, and leave the rest to me."

"'I was astonished when he settled that the marriage should take place

in the drawing-room of my house, and on the day of the Feast of the

Invention of the Cross; and still more when he had everything arranged

just as it had been on the celebrated day of my aunt's marriage--that

was to have been. Mistress Anne crept about, in whispered prayer, her

face contracted with anxious alarm. The bride came in her wedding

dress, the clergyman arrived nothing out of the common was to be heard

or seen. But when the blessing was pronounced, a gentle sigh seemed to

pass through the room; and the bride, and I myself, and every one

present declared that at that instant we all felt an indescribable

sense of happiness strike through us like an electric spark. Since that

moment there never has been the slightest trace of anything haunting

me, except to-day, when thinking vividly of the charming Pauline, did

bring a haunting something into my married happiness."

"This Alexander said with an odd smile, and looking round him.

"'Oh! you donkey!' said Marzell. 'I hope she may not turn up here

to-day. I really shouldn't like to answer for the consequences.'

"Meanwhile a good many pleasure-seekers had come into the grounds, and

taken their places at various tables. But the one where the Aslings had

been sitting on that memorable day two years ago was still unoccupied.

"'There's a very distinct presentiment at work within me,' said

Severin. 'I quite expect to see that place there occupied by ----'

"He stopped, for as he spoke, behold! Geheime Rath Asling appeared,

with his wife on his arm; Pauline came after them, looking the picture

of happiness and beauty--in all other respects exactly the Pauline of

two years back. Just as was the case then, she was looking back over

her shoulder, as if expecting to see somebody. She caught sight of

Alexander, who had risen from his chair.

"'Ah!' she cried, running up to him joyfully. 'Here you are already!'

"He took her hand, and said to Marzell and Severin:

"'Dear old friends! this is my darling wife, Pauline!'"

The Brethren were much pleased with Ottmar's story.

"You had special reasons for laying the scene of your story in Berlin,"

said Theodore, "and giving the names of streets, squares, etc. But I

think it is a good thing, as a general rule, to indicate localities in

this way. It not only brings in an element of historical truth, which

helps a sluggish fancy; but--at all events for people who know the

places--the story gains greatly in life and vigour."

"Our friend hasn't managed to steer altogether clear of that ironical

bent of his, though, which is especially strong in all that concerns

the fairer sex," said Lothair. "However, I make no attack on him upon

that score."

"Merely a pinch of salt," said Ottmar, "to season rather meagre fare.

For the fact is, I felt it as I read the story--it's too prosaic--too

much about everyday matters."

"As Theodore approves of naming the scene of action," said Cyprian; "as

Ottmar thinks his subject-matter over-prosaic; and if Lothair will

allow me a pinch of irony now and then, I'll read you a story which

suggested itself to me when I was living in Dantzic."

He read:--

"THE ARTUS HOF.

"Doubtless, kind reader, you have often heard a great deal about the

fine old business town of Dantzic. And, probably, you know, from

reading of them, all about the 'lions' of the place. But I should be

better pleased could I think that you had been there, in person, at

some time or other, and had actually seen, with your own eyes, the

wonderful hall into which I fain would take you; I mean the 'Artus

Hof.'

"In the mid-day hours, a throng of business men, of all nations and

conditions, goes surging up and down in it, with a confused uproar of

voices which deafens the ear. But, no doubt, the time when--if you were

in Dantzic--you would best like to go into it would be after the

exchange hours are over, when the business men are gone to their

mid-day meal, and only a few rare ones now and then cross the hall at

intervals with preoccupied faces--there is a passage through it,

leading from one street to another--for then a magic half-light comes

stealing through the dim, ancient windows, and all the curious frescoes

and carvings which ornament the walls seem to come to life, and begin

to move. Stags with great antlers, and other strange animals, gaze down

at you with gleaming eyes, so that you don't half care to look at them.

And the more the light fades, the more awe-inspiring grows the marble

statue of the king in the centre of the hall. The large picture of the

Virtues and the Vices (whose names are written beside them) loses a

good deal of its moral effect: for the Virtues soar more irrecognizably

aloft, half hidden in grey clouds; and the Vices--beautiful women in

shining raiment--come forward enticingly, and seem to be trying to lure

you from the path of duty, whispering to you in accents sweet and low.

Wherefore, you turn from them to the belt of colour which goes nearly

round the walls, on which you see long trains of soldiers, in various

costumes of the old Imperial-City times, going marching along. Worthy

burgomasters, with shrewd, significant faces, ride at their head on

spirited horses, richly caparisoned. The drummers and fifers, and the

Hallebardiers march along so briskly and bravely that you begin to hear

the stirring martial music, and expect them to go tramping out at the

great window yonder on to the market-place--looking at all this, you

would, if you were a draughtsman, set to work and make a pen-and-ink

sketch of that fine stately Burgomaster there, with the strikingly

handsome page in attendance on him. There is always plenty of pens,

ink, and paper on the tables--provided at the public expense for the

merchants' use--so that you would not be able to resist the temptation.

"There would be no objection to your so employing your time, kind

reader; but that was by no means the case with Traugott, the young

merchant, who was continually getting into the most terrible scrapes on

this very account.

"'Write off at once and advise our correspondent in Hamburg of the

day's transactions, Herr Traugott,' said Elias Roos, the head of a

flourishing firm, of which Traugott had just been admitted a partner,

being moreover engaged to Roos's only daughter Christina. Traugott with

some difficulty found a vacant place at the crowded tables, took a

sheet of paper, dipped his pen in the ink, and was just going to begin

with a fine caligraphic flourish, when--as he was rapidly revolving in

his mind what he was going to say--he lifted his eyes mechanically to

the wall above him.

"Now, chance had so ordained matters that he was sitting just in front

of a certain little group of two figures, the sight of which always

caused him a strange, inexplicable sense of sorrow. It represented a

grave-looking, almost sombre man, with a dark, curling beard,

handsomely dressed, riding a black horse, with a page at his bridle

whose masses of hair and richly-tinted costume gave him almost the

appearance of a girl. The face and figure of the man caused Traugott a

certain feeling akin to fear, but a world of sweet presage streamed

forth upon him from the face of the page. Somehow he never could

withdraw his eyes from this couple whenever he happened to look at

them; consequently, instead of writing the Hamburg letter as he ought

to have done, he kept gazing at these two figures, and drawing with his

pen on the paper before him, without observing what he was about. When

this had been going on for some little time, somebody tapped him on the

shoulder from behind, and said, in rather a hollow voice:

"'Good! very good! I like that; it promises well!'

"Traugott, waking from his dream, turned sharply round, and felt like a

man struck by a thunderbolt. Astonishment, alarm, rendered him

speechless; for he found himself staring into the face of the very man

who was represented in the fresco on the wall above him. It was he who

had spoken the words, and beside him stood the beautiful page, smiling

at Traugott as if with inexpressible affection.

"'It is they in the body,' was the thought which flashed through his

mind. 'They'll throw off those ugly cloaks directly, and appear in

their beautiful antique costume.'

"The seething masses of people were hurrying to and fro, and the two

strange figures were speedily lost in the throng. But Traugott stood in

the same spot, with his letter of advice in his hand, till the business

hours were long over, and only one or two people passed at intervals

through the hall. At last he saw Herr Elias Roos, coming up to him with

two strange gentlemen.

"'Well, Traugott,' said Elias Roos, 'what are you cogitating about here

so late in the afternoon? Have you sent off the Hamburg advices all

right?'

"Without thinking what he was doing, Traugott handed him the sheet of

paper which he had in his hand. On seeing it, Elias Roos struck his

clenched fists together over his head, stamped with his right foot,

slightly at first, then very violently, and shouted, till the hall

resounded:

"'Oh! good Lord! Oh! good Lord! Stupid, childish nonsense! Here's a

partner for you! Here's a precious son-in-law! Damnation, sir, are you

out of your senses? The letter of advice, the letter of advice? Oh

God--the _post_!'

"Herr Elias nearly went into a fit with anger. The two strangers smiled

at this singular letter of advice, which certainly wasn't of much use

as such, as it stood. Immediately after the words 'Referring to your

esteemed order of the 20th instant,' Traugott had made a firm, bold

outline sketch of the two striking figures of the old man and the page.

The strange gentlemen strove to calm Herr Elias, addressing him in the

most soothing tones; but he shoved his wig into various positions,

banged his cane on the floor, and cried:

"'The devil's in the fellow! Had a letter of advice to write; instead

of that, goes and draws pictures! Five hundred pounds gone!--pht!'--he

blew through his fingers; and then repeated, in a weeping tone,

'Five--hundred--pounds!'

"'Don't distress yourself, Herr Roos,' said, at last, the elder of the

two strangers; 'the post is gone, certainly, but I am sending a courier

off to Hamburg in an hour's time. He can take your letter of advice,

and it will reach your correspondent sooner that it would have done by

the regular mail.'

"'Most incomparable of men!' cried Herr Elias, with full sunshine

restored to his face.

"Traugott had recovered from his astonishment, and was hastening to the

table to write the advice; but Herr Elias shoved him away, saying,

through his teeth, with most diabolical looks:

"Don't trouble yourself, my lad!'

"While Herr Elias was writing busily, the elder of the strangers went

up to Traugott, who was standing silent and abashed, and said:

"'You seem to be a little out of your element here, my dear sir! It

would never have occurred to a real man of business to sketch figures

when he ought to have been writing a letter of advice.'

"This Traugott could not gainsay. Much astonished, himself, at what had

occurred, he said:

"'I can't quite make it out. I've written plenty of letters of advice.

It's only now and then that I make one of these mistakes.'

"'My dear sir,' said the stranger, with a smile, 'I must say I don't

think it seems to be a mistake at all. I should rather be inclined to

suppose that very few of your letters of advice are worth as much as

this admirable, accurate, and powerful outline sketch. There is true

genius in it!'

"With which he took the paper from Traugott, folded it carefully up,

and put it in his pocket. This convinced Traugott firmly that he had

done something much better than writing a letter of advice. A new

spirit awoke within him; and when Elias Roos, who had finished his

letter, and was still very much out of temper, cried, 'That nonsense of

yours very nearly cost me L500,' Traugott answered him, louder and more

firmly than usual, 'Don't go on making such a fuss, or I shall have to

bid you good-morning, and write no more of your damned letters of

advice.'

"Herr Elias set his wig straight with both hands, stared at Traugott,

and said:

"What nonsense you're talking, partner; you can't be serious,

son-in-law?'

"The elder of the strangers intervened, and it required very few words

to wholly re-establish the peace between them. Then they all went to

dinner at Elias Roos's house.

"Christina received them in a beautifully-fitting dress, which set off

her well-developed, pretty figure to advantage. She wielded the massive

soup-ladle with great skill.

"I suppose I ought to describe the five people at this dinner-table;

but Traugott's adventures are waiting to be told, and such pictures of

said people as I could sketch would be very hasty. You are aware that

Elias Roos wears a round wig, and I could add little more, as, from

what he has said, you can see before you the little, stoutish man in

his leather-coloured suit with gilt buttons. Of Traugott I have much to

say, because this is his story which I am telling, and he is the

principal character in it. If it is true that our thoughts, words, and

works--coming, as they do, from the inner depths of our natures--do so

shape and model the outward man that there results a certain marvellous

harmony of the whole--not to be explained, only to be felt--which we

term 'character,' Traugott's appearance will be plain to you from my

story without any further description. If this is not the case, all

further description would be useless, and you can take this tale as not

read. The two strange gentlemen are uncle and nephew, well-to-do

business men, and 'friends'--that is to say, business connections--of

Roos's. They come from Koenigsberg, wear English clothes, carry about

mahogany boot-jacks from London, are connoisseurs in the arts, and,

taking them all round, persons of much cultivation. The uncle is making

a collection of pictures, which is why he pocketed Traugott's sketch.

"As I perceive that Christina will speedily vanish from my story, I had

better give a few indications of what she is like before she makes her

exit. She is of medium height, with a finely-developed figure; about

two or three and twenty, with a round face, a short nose, slightly

turned up, and kindly light-blue eyes, which say, with a charming

smile, to every man she meets, 'I'm going to get married very soon

(don't much mind to whom). She has a beautiful, fair complexion; hair

not over red; most kissable lips, and a mouth rather too large, which

she has an odd way of drawing on one side, though two rows of pearls

are thereby rendered visible. If the next house were on fire, and the

flames were catching the room, she would just, quickly, feed her canary

and put away the clothes from the wash, and then go and tell her father

that the house was on fire. No almond-tart ever came to grief in her

hands, and her butter-sauce is always of exactly the right thickness,

because she always stirs it from left to right, never the other way. As

Elias Roos has just poured out the last of the bottle into old Franz's

glass, I further remark, hastily, that it is because he's going to

marry her that she's so fond of Traugott; for what in the world would

become of her if she weren't to get married? After dinner Roos proposed

to the strangers a walk round the walls. How gladly would Traugott have

made his escape and been by himself! Never had he known anything like

the thoughts, feelings, and sensations which he had experienced to-day.

Escape he could not, however, for just as he was slipping out at the

door, without even kissing Christina's hand, Herr Elias seized him by

the coat-tails, crying, 'Come, partner; you're not going to give us the

slip, are you, son-in-law?' So he had to stay.

"A well known professor of natural philosophy was of opinion that

Nature, in her capacity of a skilled experimentalist, has somewhere or

other set up a tremendous electrical machine, from which mysterious

conductors stretch all through our lives; and, though we avoid them and

keep clear of them as well as we can, at some given moment or other we

can't help treading on them, and then the flash and the shock dart

through us, altering everything in us completely. No doubt Traugott had

stepped on to one of these conductors at the moment when he began

sketching the old man and the page, without having any idea that they

were standing behind him in the flesh; for the strange apparition of

them had gone darting through him like a flash of lightning, and he

felt that he now clearly knew and understood things which had formerly

been but presages and dreams. The shyness which used to tie his tongue

when conversation turned upon things which lay hidden, like holy

mysteries, in the depths of his being, had vanished; and so, when the

uncle began finding fault with the wonderful figures, partly painted,

partly carved, in the Artus-Hof, as being 'in bad taste,' and

particularly the soldier-pictures as being 'wild and extravagant,'

Traugott boldly maintained that, though it was possible that they might

not strictly conform to the canons of art, still, it had been the case

with him, as well as with many others, that a marvellous world of

imagination had dawned upon him in the Artus Hof, and that some of the

figures had told him, in looks full of life, as well as in distinct

words, that he was a mighty master himself, and able to make and form

like him from whose mysterious _atelier_ they had proceeded.

"Herr Elias really looked, if possible, even a greater ass than usual

when the youngster spoke these lofty words; but the uncle, with a

strange, slightly sneering smile, said:

"'I repeat what I said before, that I can't understand how you should

be a man of business, and not devote yourself to art altogether.' The

man was excessively antipathetic to Traugott, somehow; and he

therefore, during the walk, kept to the nephew, who was very pleasant

and friendly.

"'Ah, Heavens!' the nephew said, 'how I envy you that talent of yours!

If I could only draw like you! I really have a great turn for it; I've

drawn some capital eyes, and ears and noses, and two or three heads

even; but oh!--the office, you know,--the office!'

"'I thought,' said Traugott, 'that when one was conscious of a real

gift--a true calling--for art, one ought to devote one's self to it

altogether.'

"'Be an artist, you mean? How can you say such a thing? Look here, my

dear fellow; I've thought over this subject perhaps more than most

people; indeed I have such a reverence for art that I've gone deeper

into this, almost, than I can explain, so that I can only give you a

hint or two of what I mean.'

"He looked so learned and so profoundly thoughtful as he said this,

that Traugott really felt a sort of veneration for him.

"'You'll admit,' said the nephew, when he had taken a pinch of snuff,

and sneezed a couple of times, 'that the function of art is to weave

flowers into life. Amusement--recreation after the serious business of

life--is the delightful end and object of all artistic effort; and this

is attained exactly in proportion as the productions of art are

satisfactory. This goal of art is distinctly perceptible in actual

life, because it is only those who practise art on this principle who

enjoy that comfort and prosperity which flies away for ever from those

who (against the true principles of things) look upon art as the

primary object and highest aim of life. Therefore, my dear sir, don't

you pay any attention to what my uncle said, nor let that lead you

astray from the serious business of life, to an occupation which can no

more stand alone than a helpless infant learning to walk.'

"Here the nephew paused, as if expecting Traugott to reply; but he had

no idea what to say. The nephew's harangue had struck him as being a

farrago of incredible nonsense, and he contented himself with asking

him what he considered 'the serious business of life.' The nephew

looked at him rather puzzled.

"'Well,' he said at last, 'you'll admit that a man must live; and the

embarrassed professional artist can scarcely be said to do that.' He

then went on talking a quantity of nonsense, using fine words and

elaborate expressions; the result of which was, that by 'living' he

meant having plenty of money and no debts; eating and drinking of the

best, and having a nice wife and children, with no grease-spots on

their Sunday-clothes, etc. This seemed to stifle Traugott, and he was

glad when he got quit of this sapient nephew, and was alone in his own

quarters.

"'What a wretched, miserable life I am leading, to be sure!' he said

to himself. 'In the beautiful morning--in the glorious, golden

spring-time, when the soft west wind comes breathing even into the

gloomy streets, and seems to tell, in its gentle murmurings, of all

the wonders and marvels that are blossoming into beauty in the fields

and woods--I slink into Elias Roos's smoky office, "creeping like snail

unwillingly to school." There pale faces sit behind shapeless desks,

and nothing breaks the gloomy silence, buried in which everybody

labours, but the turning of the leaves of big account-books, the jingle

of money on the desks, and an occasional unintelligible word or two.

And what kind of labour is it? What is all this thinking and writing

for? That the coins in the chest may increase in number; that the

Fafner's ill-luck-bringing hoard may sparkle and gleam the brighter.

The artist--the sculptor--can go out with uplifted head, and inhale the

refreshing spring-rays, which kindle in him an inner world full of

glorious pictures, so that it bursts into happiness of life and motion.

Out of the dark thickets come wonderful forms, created by his own

spirit; and they remain his; because the mysterious spells of light, of

colour, and of form dwell within him, and he fixes down for ever that

which his mental vision has seen, representing it to the senses. Why

should I not break away from this hateful life? The wonderful old man

has confirmed me in the idea that I am called to be an artist; still

more has the beautiful page. It is true he didn't say anything, but I

felt that his look told me clearly everything which has been in me so

long, in the form of presentiment, but which a thousand doubts and

misgivings have pressed down and prevented from shooting up into life.

Can I not be a great artist, in spite of my abominable calling?'

"Traugott got out all the drawings he had ever done, and looked through

them critically. Much of his work struck him quite differently from

what it had formerly done, and generally seemed much better than he had

thought. There was one drawing particularly--one of his childish

attempts, done in his early boyhood--a leaf, on which the old

burgomaster and the page were copied, in somewhat distorted, but

clearly recognizable outlines; and he remembered well that, even in

these early days, those figures had a strange influence upon him, and

that he was once, in the gloaming, impelled, as by an irresistible

spell, to leave his play and go to the Artus Hof, where he laboured

diligently at copying them. He was moved by the deepest, most

melancholy yearning as he looked at this drawing. He ought by rights to

have gone to the office for a couple of hours as usual, but he felt

that he could not; and, instead, he went out and up on to the

Karlsberg. Thence he looked out over the sea: and in the dashing

billows, in the grey evening haze rising, and lying in wonderful

shapes of cloud-vapour over Hela, he strove to read, as in a magic

mirror, the destiny of his future life.

"Do you not hold, dear reader, that that which comes down into our

breasts from the higher realm of love has to reveal itself to us at

first as hopeless sorrow? That is the doubt, the misgiving, which comes

surging into the artist's heart. He sees the ideal, and feels his

powerlessness to grasp it. But then there comes to him a godlike

courage; he makes endeavour, and his despair melts away into a sweet

longing which gives him strength, and incites him to approach nearer

and nearer to that Unattainable which he never reaches, though always

getting closer to it.

"Traugott was now powerfully attacked by this hopeless pain. When,

early the next morning, he looked again at his drawings, they all

seemed feeble and wretched, and he remembered what an experienced

friend had often said: that great mischief, together with very mediocre

results in art, proceed from the circumstance that people often mistake

mere vivid, superficial excitement for a true, inward calling for art.

He was much disposed to look upon the Artus Hof and the figures of the

burgomaster and the page as outward, superficial excitements of this

description. He condemned himself to go back and work in the office,

regardless of the loathing, which often came so forcibly upon him that

he was obliged to leave off work all of a sudden and rush into the open

air. Herr Elias, with careful consideration, attributed this to the

poor state of health which he felt certain the deadly pale face of the

youngster indicated.

"A considerable time elapsed--the St. Dominic's Fair was at hand, after

which Traugott was to marry Christina, and be formally announced to the

commercial world as Roos's partner. This point of time was, to him,

that of his sorrowful farewell to all his fair hopes and beautiful

dreams; and it lay heavy on his heart when he saw Christina hard at

work having everything scrubbed and polished on the second floor,

folding curtains with her own hands, giving the final polish and

glitter to all the brass, etc.

"One day, in the thick of the turmoil in the Artus Hof, at its most

crowded hour, Traugott heard a voice behind him, whose well-remembered

tones went straight to his heart:

"'Is this paper really at such a discount?'

"He turned quickly, and saw, as he had expected, the wonderful old man,

who had gone up to a broker to sell some paper whose price was

tremendously depreciated. The handsome lad was standing behind the old

man, and cast a sad, kindly look at Traugott. He went quickly up, and

said:

"'Excuse me, sir; but that paper is very low in the market just at

present. Still, there can be no doubt that it will stand much better in

a very few days. If you will take my advice, you will keep it, and not

sell till the quotation is more favourable.'

"'My good sir,' said the old man coldly and irritably, 'what have you

got to do with my affairs? How do you know but that I may want ready

money just at this particular moment, so that this piece of paper may

be of no use to me?'

"Traugott, vexed that the old man had taken his interference so amiss,

was going quickly away, but the lad looked beseechingly at him with

tearful eyes.

"'I meant you kindly, sir,' he said quickly, 'and I can't allow you to

be such a serious loser. Sell me the paper, on the understanding that I

pay you the higher rate which it will stand at in a day or two.'

"'You're a strange person,' said the old man; 'I don't see why you

should go making my fortune in this sort of way.'

"As he said this, he looked piercingly at the lad, who cast down

bashful eyes of blue. They went with Traugott to his office, where the

money was paid over to the old man, who put it in his purse with a face

of gloom. Whilst this was going on, the lad said to Traugott:

"'Was it not you who were drawing so cleverly a week or two ago in the

Artus Hof?'

"Yes,' said Traugott, while the colour came to his cheeks as he

remembered the letter of advice.

"'Oh, then,' said the lad, 'I'm not surprised----'

"The old man looked at him angrily, and he stopped at once. Traugott

couldn't help a certain embarrassment in their presence, so that they

were gone before he managed to ask where they lived, etc., etc. The

looks of them had something so marvellous about them that even the

people in the office were struck by it.

"The surly book-keeper stuck his pen behind his ear and stared at the

old man, with his arms crossed behind his head.

"God bless my soul!' he cried, when the couple had gone out, 'that chap

with the curly beard and the black cloak looks like an old picture of

the year 1400 in the church of St. John.'

"But Herr Elias took him for a Polish Jew, notwithstanding his

aristocratic bearing, and his grave, thoughtful, old-German face.

"'Stupid brute!' he cried. 'Sells his paper now, and would get at least

ten per cent, more for it this day week!' Of course he didn't know that

Traugott was going to pay him the difference out of his own pocket;

which he did some days afterwards, when he came across the old man and

the lad in the Artus Hof again.

"'My son,' said the old man, 'has reminded me that you are a

brother-artist; therefore I have accepted this service from you, which

otherwise I should not have done.'

"They were standing beside one of the four granite pillars which

support the vaulted roof of the hall, and close to the figures which

Traugott had drawn in the letter of advice. He spoke, without

hesitation, of the extraordinary likeness of these figures to the old

man and the lad. The old man gave a strange smile, laid his hand on

Traugott's shoulder, and said, in a low voice of some caution:

"'You are not aware, then, that I am Godfredus Berklinger, the German

painter, and that I painted the figures which you seem to admire a very

long time ago, when I was quite a young student of my art? I painted my

own portrait as the Burgomaster, as a _souvenir_, and that the page

leading the horse is my son you may see in a moment if you compare

their faces and figures.'

"Traugott was dumb with amazement, but he soon felt that the old man,

who believed himself the master who had painted these pictures over two

hundred years ago, must be suffering from some species of insanity.

"'Indeed,' said the old man, lifting his head and looking round him

with pride, 'it was a glorious springtide of art when I adorned this

hall with all these pictures, in honour of the wise King Arthur and his

Round Table. I have always felt convinced that the noble presence, who

came to me once when I was working here, and called me to mastership,

which I had not then attained, was King Arthur himself.'

"'My father,' said the lad, 'is an artist whom there are not many like,

and you would not regret it if he were to allow you to come and see his

works.'

"The old man had taken a few steps through the hall, which was then

empty; and he called to the lad to come away. But Traugott boldly asked

him to show him his pictures. The old man scanned him long, with keen,

penetrating eyes, and finally said, very seriously:

"'You are somewhat presumptuous, truly, in that you would penetrate

into the holy of holies before your apprenticeship is well begun.

However, be it so! if your eyes are too feeble to see as yet, you may

to some extent surmise. Come to me early to-morrow.'

"He explained where he lived, and Traugott got away from his work as

soon as possible the next morning, and hastened to the out-of-the-way

street where the old man was to be found. The lad, dressed in antique

German costume, opened the door, and took him into a spacious room,

where the old man was sitting on a little stool before a large canvas,

all covered with a grey ground-tint.

"'You are come at a fortunate time, sir,' cried the old man, 'for I

have just this moment put the finishing touches to this great picture,

upon which I have been engaged for more than a year, and which has cost

me no small pains! It is the companion picture to another of the same

size, representing "Paradise Lost," which I finished last year, and

which you will see here also. This one, as you see, is "Paradise

Regained," and I should pity you if you were to try to discover any

hidden allegory in it. It is only weaklings and bunglers who paint

allegorical pictures. This picture of mine does not suggest; it _is_!

You observe that all these rich groupings of men, animals, flowers and

jewels form one harmonious whole, whose loud, glorious music is a pure,

heavenly harmony of eternal glorification and ecstasy.'

"Then he began to point out, and give prominence to particular groups.

He drew Traugott's attention to the mysteries of the disposition of the

light and shade; to the lustre and sparkle of the flowers and gems; to

the wonderful forms which, rising out of the bells of lilies, grouped

themselves into bands of beautiful maidens and youths; to the bearded

men who, with youthful vigour in their looks and motions, seemed to be

conversing with curious animals. He spoke louder and louder, more and

more vehemently and incoherently.

"'Let thy diamond crown sparkle, thou mighty sage!' he cried, with

gleaming eyes riveted on the empty canvas. 'Throw off the Isis-veil

which thou hast cast over thy head at the approach of the uninitiate!

Why dost thou wrap that dark mantle so carefully over thy breast? I

must see thy heart! It is the philosopher's stone, which discloses all

secrets. Art thou not _me_? What meanest thou by confronting me with

such audacity? Wilt thou do battle with thy master? Dost thou think

that gleaming ruby there, which is thy heart, can grind my breast to

dust? Come on, then! come forth! come _here_! I am he that made thee,

for I am----'

"Here the old man fell to the ground in a heap, as if struck by a

lightning flash. Traugott raised him up; the lad brought an easy-chair,

in which they placed the old man, who now seemed to be lying in a quiet

sleep.

"'You now know my dear old father's condition, sir,' said the lad

softly, in a low voice. 'A cruel fate has stripped all the flowers away

from his life; for many years he has been dead to the art, which was

his life formerly. He sits for entire days before a canvas, stretched

and grounded as you see that one. This he calls "painting," and you

have seen the condition of excitement which the description of one of

his so-called pictures produces in him. Besides this, he is tormented

by another most unfortunate idea, which makes my life a very sad and

unhappy one. But this I look upon as a blow of destiny which carries me

away in the same sweep with which it has come over him. If you would

like to recover a little from the impression of this strange scene,

come with me into the next room, where you will see several pictures

painted in my father's earlier, fruitful days.'