Towards the end of November, my wife wrote to me that Ernst had been at
home again, and that, several hours after his arrival, he had, in the
most casual manner, mentioned that he had successfully passed his
examination as forester. When my wife and Martella signified their
pleasure at this piece of news, he declared that he had only passed his
examination in order to prove to us and the rest of his acquaintance,
that he, too, had learned something, but that he was not made to be put
just where the state desired to place him, and that, in the spring, he
and Martella would emigrate to America, as he had already come to an
understanding with Funk in regard to the passage.
When he asked Martella why she had nothing to say on the subject, she
replied:
"You know that I would go to the end of the world with you. But we are
not alone. If we go, your parents and your brothers and sisters must
give us their blessing at parting."
"Oh! that they will."
"I think so too. But just consider, Ernst! We are both of us quite
young, and I have just begun to live. Do not look so fierce; when you
do that, you do not look half so handsome as you really are. And
besides, there is something yet on my mind which I must tell you, and
in which I am fully resolved."
"I cannot imagine what you mean; it seems, at times, that I really do
not know you as I once did."
"You do know me, and it grieves me to be obliged to tell you so."
"What is it? What can it be? You have become quite serious all at
once."
"I am glad that you can say so much in my praise, for I have need of
it; and I feel quite sure that you will approve of what I am going to
say.
"Just see, Ernst! I won't speak of anything else--but with mother's aid
I have begun so much that is good, that I cannot bear to think of
hurrying away while the work is half finished. You have passed your
examination; let me pass mine too. First let mother tell me that my
apprenticeship is at an end, and then I will wander with you; and we
shall be two jolly gadabouts, and have lots of money for travelling
expenses. Isn't it so? You will let me stay here ever so long; won't
you?
"Ah, that is right. You are laughing again, and I see that you approve
of what I have said. If you had not done so you should have had no
peace, for my mind is made up.
"The canopied bed next to your mother's is now mine; and indeed it is a
heavenly canopy that one must be slow to leave. And, as I told you
before, I have just begun to live."
Ernst looked towards my wife. It seemed as if doubt and pride were
struggling within him. When Martella had left the room and my wife
urged him to remain with us and to afford us the joy of having such a
daughter-in-law in our home, he was vanquished, and exclaimed:
"Yes, I am indeed proud of her! I must admit I never expected so much
of her. If she only does not grow over my head."
My wife wrote me that she only remembered a portion of what had
happened. The wisdom and feeling evinced by the child had surprised
her; and the subdued, heartfelt voice in which she had spoken had been
as delightful as the loveliest music. She had been obliged to ask
herself if this really was the wild creature who had entered the house
but three-quarters of a year ago. The change that she had devoutly
wished for had been brought about with surprising rapidity. Martella
had awakened to a sense of the duties life imposes on all of us.
Nothing can be more gratifying than to find that a just course of
action has produced its logical results.
Thus all was well. Ernst went out hunting with Rautenkron, and once
even prevailed on him to visit our house.
Rautenkron had but little to say to Martella. He would knit his heavy
eyebrows, and cast searching side-glances on the child. This was his
custom with all strangers. When taking leave of my wife, he inquired
whether we knew anything of Martella's parentage. All that we knew was
that she had been found in the forest when four years old. Jaegerlies
had cared for her until Ernst brought her to our house. Martella had
told more than that to Richard, but he had firmly refused to tell us
what it was. When Rautenkron had left, Martella said:
"He looks like a hedgehog, and I really believe that he could eat
mice."
In the last letter that I received before returning to my home, my wife
wrote me that Martella had displayed a very singular trait.
Rothfuss had become sick, and Martella, who was as much attached to him
as if she were his own child, could neither visit nor nurse him. She
had an unconquerable aversion to sick people. She would stand by the
door and talk to Rothfuss, but she would not enter his room. She was
quite angry at herself because of this, but could not act differently.
"I cannot help it--I cannot help it," she said. "I cannot go near a
sick person." He begged her to procure some wine for him; some of the
red wine down in the glass house. He knew that would make him well
again. Rothfuss found as much pleasure in deceiving the doctor as he
usually did in outwitting the officers.
Martella cheerfully entered into his plan; she got the wine for him,
and from that day he gradually improved in health.
It was quite refreshing to me to have my thoughts recalled to our life
at home. While the most difficult political questions and a struggle
against a system of police espionage were engaging us, a concordat with
the Pope had been submitted for our approval. It was the result of deep
and long-protracted intrigues, and was full of carefully veiled and
delicately woven fetters. I had been appointed as one of the committee
to whom the matter was referred, and after a heated debate, we
succeeded in securing its abrogation. The minister who had made the
treaty was disgraced. His accomplices allowed him to fall while they
saved themselves. Funk, in his own name and that of two associates,
gave his reasons for declining to vote on the question. They demanded
perfect freedom for every religions sect, and the abandonment on the
part of the state of its right to interfere with matters of faith.
It had been proposed that my son Richard, who was Professor of History
at the University, should be appointed as Minister of Education.
He had published a powerful work on this topic. My son-in-law informed
me that he had heard Richard's name mentioned in Court circles. In a
few days, however, the rumor proved to be an ill-founded one. A
declamatory counsellor received the appointment.
Although encouraged by my success, it was with a sense of overpowering
fatigue that I returned home at Christmastime. I felt as though I had
not been able to enjoy a night's sleep while at the capital: it was
only at home that I could breathe freely again and enjoy real repose.