"I do not know," he replied, looking straight before him. "As I told
you before, I have never asked her point-blank. Our talk once turned on
marriage. She said most positively she should never marry. 'Not if the
right man appeared?' I ventured to put in. 'Then least of all,' said
she suppressing a sigh. So one of us is wise it seems."
"Nonsense," said I. "All girls say the same to begin with. Afterwards
they think better of it."
"It seems, too, that she is a year older than we thought--only a month
younger than I am. Apropos, I have a request to make to you; that is,
if you are able--"
"Come, no preamble. You know that I am never shy of asking you to do me
a favour."
"To-morrow is her birthday. I had just contrived to find out the date,
when she said that she already felt herself very old, and was weary of
life. That if she knew she were to die on the morrow it would give her
no regret. I was busy just when you came in, writing out the air of one
of your songs: you know the one beginning, 'How could I e'er deserve
thee?' and I meant to give her a nosegay with it. But it does grieve me
to think that I have nothing better to offer her. She has her dress
fastened with an old black pin, and its glass head is cracked. A little
brooch would be sure to please her--only unluckily my piano and singing
lessons are over just now, most of my pupils are away, and so I cannot
get at some fees that are owing; and to sell any of my effects is
impossible, since all the superfluities I had--"
He looked with sad irony around his bare apartment.
"We must contrive something," I said. "It stands to reason that the
birthday must be duly honoured. Certainly I am no Cr[oe]sus at this
moment,"--and therewith I drew out a very small purse from my pocket,
in which rattled only a few insignificant coins--"but at all events I
have some superfluities. It now occurs to me that I have not used the
great _Passow_ for some months, never indeed, since I accidentally
discovered little _Rost_ at my father's, in which one can hunt out
words so much more conveniently. Come! The old folios will help us out
of a difficulty."
After a few weak endeavours to prevent my laying this offering upon the
altar of friendship, he accompanied me to my room, and then we each
loaded ourselves with a volume of the thick lexicon. And an hour later,
richer by five dollars, we betook ourselves to the shop of a small
working-goldsmith, as we had not courage to make our intended purchase
at one of the great jewellers of _Unter den Linden_.
It is probable that our man taxed us no less heavily. But, however, he
treated us like two young princes, who in Haroun-al-Raschid mood had
chosen to knock at a lowly door. For a gold snake which after a few
coils took its tail into its mouth, and glared at us with two square
ruby eyes, he asked ten dollars, but let himself be beat down to seven,
the pin being probably worth about half that sum. It was I who had to
carry on the whole transaction. Sebastian was so embarrassed, and
absorbed himself so persistently in the contemplation of the other
ornaments on the counter, that the shopkeeper evidently grew
suspicious, and kept a sharp look out after him, as though he might be
having to do with pickpockets.
"Here is the trinket," said I, when we got into the street, "and now
good night, and I say--you may just congratulate her from me too
to-morrow. But indeed I ought to hope that she has forgotten all about
me. I certainly did not display my best side to her. Let me see you
again soon, and come and tell me what effect the snake has produced in
thy Paradise, happy Adam that thou art."
And so I left him, conscious of a faint glimmer of envy. But I manfully
trod out the first sparks, and as I walked along the park in the cool
of the evening, sang aloud the following song, which apart from the
anachronism of budding roses in the dog-days, gave a pretty faithful
description of the mood I was then in:
"The roses are almost full-blown,
Love flings out his delicate net:
'Thou butterfly fickle and frail
Away thou shalt never more get.'
"'Ah me! were I prisoner here,
With roses all budding around,
Though satisfied Love wove the bands,
My Youth would repine to be bound.
"No musing and longing for me--
I stray thro' the woods as I will.
My heart on its pinions of joy
Soars beyond and above them still!'"
The following evening I was sitting innocently and unsuspiciously with
my parents at the tea-table, when I was called out of the room: a
friend it seemed wished to speak to me. It was about ten o'clock, and I
wondered who could be paying me so late a visit.
When I entered my room I found Sebastian as usual in the grand-paternal
arm-chair, but I started when, turning the light on his face, I noticed
his pallor and look of despair.
"Is it you?" cried I. "And in such agitation? Has the birthday
celebration come to a tragic end?"
"Paul," said he, still motionless, as though some heavy blow had
stretched him out there. "All is over! I am a lost man!"
"You will find yourself again, my good fellow," I replied. "Come, let
me help to look for you. Tell me all about it to begin with."
"No jesting if you would not drive me out of the room. I tell you it is
all too true. I have only now fully discovered what an angel she is,
and I have seen her for the last time."
"Is she gone away--gone to a distance?"
He shook his head gloomily. Only by very slow degrees could I extort
from him the cause of his despair. Briefly it was as follows: He had
found himself in the presence of his beloved at the usual hour, and
after eating an extra tart and drinking a glass of bishop in honour of
the day, he had brought out the gifts with which he meant to surprise
her in a sequence which seemed well advised. First he had freed the
bouquet from its paper coverings, and she had thanked him with a kindly
glance, and put it at once in a glass of water. Then he gave her the
song, and sang it for her under his voice, she sitting opposite with
downcast eyes, and giving not the slightest sign by which to judge
whether she saw its application or not. Only when he had ended she held
out her hand--a favour of which she was chary--and said in a cordial
tone: "It is very kind of you to have thought of my birthday, and to
have brought me such beautiful flowers and such a charming song. There
is nothing I love so much as flowers and music, and I very seldom come
in for either. I shall soon know the tune; indeed I half know it now."
He could not part with the hand given him, and as her graciousness had
inspired him with courage, he now brought out the serpent-pin, and
placed it in her hand. "Here is something else," he said; "it is but a
humble offering, but I should be very happy if you would not disdain to
wear it."
She looked full at him, opened the little case slowly and with evident
reluctance, and as soon as she saw the shining of the gold, dropped it
on the table as though the metal had been red-hot. "Why have you done
this?" she said, hastily rising. "I have not deserved it from you--at
least I do not think I have behaved in such a way as to authorise you
to make me a present like this. I see I have been mistaken in you. You,
too, think meanly of me because I am poor and dependent. I cannot
conceal that this pains me, from you of all people," and her eyes grew
moist. "Now I can only request that you will instantly leave me, and
never return," and with that she laid the flowers and song down before
him on the table, and spite of his distracted assurances and
entreaties, with burning face and tearful eyes she contrived to elude
him, and not only left the little inner room, but the shop as well.
It was in vain that he awaited her return; in her stead the
square-built woman entered, but apparently without the least idea of
what it was that had scared the young girl away. A full half-hour he
continued in a most miserable state of mind to occupy his accustomed
seat on the sofa. But as she remained invisible, he at length took his
departure, and once in the street, plucked the nosegay to pieces, and
tore up the song into shreds, and--"There," he cried, "is that wretched
pin that has made all the mischief, you may take it, and give it to
whom you will! I could hardly resist the temptation as I came along to
open a vein with it."
"And is that all?" enquired I coolly, when he had come to an end of his
shrift.
He sprang up as if to rush away. "I see I might have spared myself this
visit!" he cried. "You are in so philosophical a mood that a friend
expiring at your side would seem nothing to wonder at. Good-night."
"Stay," I remonstrated. "You ought to be very glad that one of us at
least has the use of his five senses. The story of the pin is a mere
trifle. Who knows whether she did not reject it after all from the
superstitious fancy that pins pierce friendship. Or even if there were
more in it, if she actually felt a suspicion that you meant it as a
bribe, that is still no cause for desperation; on the contrary she has
proved that she is a good girl, and respects herself; and if you go to
her in the morning as though nothing had happened, and in your own
true-hearted way explain--"
"You forget she has forbidden me to return."
"Nonsense! I would bet anything that she is already very sorry she did
so. Such a faithful Fridolin is not to be met with every day, and
whatever she may think she feels for you--whether much or little--she
would be conscious of missing something if you left off eating your two
cherry tarts daily, and she no longer had to strew the sugar over them
with her little white hand. Teach me to understand women indeed!"
He gazed for a long time at the lamp. "You would do me a kindness by
going there with me and explaining matters for me. She would at least
allow you to speak; and if you were to bear witness for me--"
"Willingly. I shall say things to her that would melt a heart of stone.
Trust me, this serpent will not long exclude thee from thy Paradise, or
Miss Lottka is not that daughter of Eve, which hitherto much to her
honour I have held her to be."
He pressed my hand as if somewhat relieved, but was still gloomy, and I
soon lighted him down the stairs.
* * * * *
I had a very beautiful and touching address all ready composed when we
set out the next evening on our common mission, and my poor friend gave
me plenty of time to rehearse it, for he never said a word. When we
approached the shop he drew his arm out of mine, I was not to find out
that he was beginning to tremble!
I myself was not thoroughly at ease. To see her again after so long an
interval, and now to address her on behalf of another--I was fully
conscious of the difficulty of the position, but my honour was pledged
to play my part well, and to guard against any selfish relapse into my
old folly.
When we entered she was not alone. For the first time we found a
fashionable-looking man in the shop, sitting on a stool close to the
counter, and while drinking a glass of lemonade, trying apparently to
make himself agreeable to the young attendant. Sebastian's melancholy
visage darkened still more at this spectacle, although the calm manner
and monosyllabic replies of the girl might have convinced him that the
conversation of this coxcomb was as displeasing to her as to us.
"We shall soon drive him away," whispered I, and ordering wine and
cakes with the air of an habitual customer, I together with my mute
companion took possession as usual of the familiar inner-room.
I had, however, reckoned without my host. The stranger, who now carried
on his conversation in a lower tone, appeared to have no idea of
vacating his place in our favour. I was able to contemplate him at
leisure in the small mirror that hung between the royal pair. His hair
cut short round a head already bald at the top, his light whiskers, and
the gold spectacles on his pinched nose, were all highly objectionable
to me; and I wondered too at the insolent familiarity of his manner,
and the careless way in which he crumbled a heart-shaped cake in his
white effeminate hands, as if to typify his facility in breaking
hearts. I took him for a young nobleman or landed proprietor, and
little as I feared his making an impression upon the girl, yet it was
annoying to me to see her exposed in her position to the attentions of
such a man. I was even concocting some bold plan of getting rid of this
incumbrance, when I felt Sebastian convulsively clutch my arm.
"What is the matter?" I said. "Are you going mad?" Instead of
answering, he pointed to the mirror, in which he too could see a
portion of the shop reflected. "Impudent fellow!" he muttered between
his teeth, "he shall not do that a second time."
I had just time to see that the stranger was bending over the counter,
and trying to take the girl--who had retreated as far as ever she
could--under the chin, when my friend, having noisily pushed away the
table before us, confronted him with flushed cheeks and flashing eyes.
"What do you mean, sir!" he began, and his deep voice put out all its
strength. "Who are you that you dare to take a liberty with a blameless
girl--a girl who--"
His rage actually choked him. He stood with hand raised, as if
determined to punish any fresh act of audacity on the spot, while the
stranger, who had drawn back a step, measured this unexpected champion
from top to toe with a look, half amazement, and half compassion.
"The bishop is too strong for your head, young friend," said he in a
sharp tone, while he twirled his smart cane between finger and thumb.
"Go home before you talk further nonsense, and be more careful another
time, for you may not always meet with persons who can take your
greenness into proper account. What I was saying to you, Lottka--'"
And therewith he turned as if his opponent had already vanished out of
sight and mind, and addressed the girl, who, pale as death and with
eyes closed, was leaning back in the furthest corner between the window
and the wall.
I had followed Sebastian, and whispered to him to take care what he was
about, but he never heard me.
"I only wanted to ask you, Fraeulein," he said in a hollow voice,
"whether it is with your consent that this gentleman allows himself to
take such liberties with you as are not generally permitted by
respectable young ladies; whether you know him sufficiently well to
justify him in using your Christian name, and whether it is agreeable
to you that he should remain talking to you so long?"
She did not answer. She only raised her large eyes entreatingly to the
angry lover who did not understand their glance.
"Who is this amiable youth, who plays the part of your knight, Lottka?"
now asked the stranger in his turn. "I begin to suspect that I have
interfered with some tender relations between you. I am sincerely sorry
for it, but still, my child, without venturing to impugn your taste, I
would advise you in future to pay more attention to solid advantages in
the choice of your adorers. The declamations of schoolboys are no doubt
pretty to listen to, but they may lead as you see to awkward
consequences. What do I owe?"
He threw a dollar on the table.
"You can give me the change another time. I will not disturb you
further just now."
He took his hat and was about to leave when Sebastian barred the way.
"You shall not go," said he in a constrained voice, "before you have in
my presence apologised to this young lady, and given your word of
honour never again to forget the respect due to her. I hope you
understand me."
"Perfectly, my young friend," replied the other, his voice now
trembling with excitement. "I understand that you are a crazy
enthusiast, and take the world for a raree-show. I do not grudge you
your childish amusement, and esteem you accordingly; but I have no wish
further to prosecute your acquaintance, lest a joke should turn to
earnest, and I should be forced--spite of the lady's presence--to treat
you like a young whippersnapper who--"
Here he made a pretty unequivocal movement with his cane. I had just
time and sense enough to interfere.
"Sir," said I, "I have to request your card; we can best settle this
matter in another place."
He laughed loud, drew out his pocket-book with an ironical bow, and
reached me a visiting-card. Then he nodded familiarly to the girl,
shrugged his shoulders, and pressing his hat low down on his brow, left
the shop.
We three remained for several moments in the same position as if we had
been touched by a magic wand.
I as the least deeply implicated was the first to recover myself.
"For God's sake, Fraeulein," said I to the pale statue in the window,
"tell us who this man is. How comes he to behave so to you? Since when
have you known him?" Then in a lower tone. "I pray you by all that is
good, speak, if but one word. You see the state my friend is in; this
concerns him more deeply than you are aware. You do not perhaps know
that there is nothing more sacred to him than yourself; you owe it to
him--"
He seemed to have heard what I said. With a sudden gesture as though
shaking off some heavy weight, he tottered to the counter, behind which
she stood entrenched and unapproachable.
"Only one word, Lottka," he murmured. "Do you know that insolent man?
Have you ever given him cause so to think of and speak to you? Yes or
No, Lottka?"
She was silent, and her hands hung down helplessly by her side. I could
plainly see two great tears forcing their way between her lashes.
"Yes or No, Lottka," he repeated more urgently, and his breast heaved
fast. "I wish to know nothing further. Do not imagine that the first
rude fellow I come across, has any power to shake my holiest
convictions. But how was it you had not a word to crush him with? Why
are you silent now?"
A convulsive shiver passed over the young girl's frame. With eyes
still closed she felt for her chair in the window, but did not seat
herself--sank down on her knees beside it, and hid her face against it.
"I beseech you," she murmured in an almost inaudible voice, "do not ask
anything about me--go away--never come here again. If it can in any way
comfort you, I am innocent so surely as God lives; but so unfortunate
that it is almost worse than if I were a sinner too. Go away. I thank
you for all you have done, but go, and forget that I am in the world. I
would I were in another!"
"Lottka!" cried Sebastian wildly, about to rush in and raise her up,
but that she put out her hands to ward him off with such a lamentable
gesture that I held him back; and after a struggle, during which I
represented to him that they were both too excited at present to
understand each other, I persuaded him to leave the poor child to
herself, and we went off, promising to return on the morrow.
We walked in silence through the streets. It was impossible to tell him
that the scene we had witnessed had considerably shaken my faith in his
beloved. For the rest I was perfectly satisfied with the part he had
played, and owned to myself that I should have done just the same in
his place.
It was only when we reached the door of my house that he broke silence.
"You must do me the favour," he said, "to go to that man very early in
the morning" (we had read his name and address on his card; he was an
assessor at the Town Court). "I leave all details to you."
"Of course," I returned, "it stands to reason that I should do all I
can for you; but in this matter--I have never delivered a challenge,
and have only twice seen a duel of any kind; and in this case, as I
believe, we must employ pistols. If you knew any one more conversant
with such matters?--one would like to do things in the regular way with
a fellow like this, who treats us both like schoolboys."
"You are probably right," said he. "But there is no help for it. I can
have no third party admitted into this affair. It is possible that he
may make some disclosures to you--invent more calumnies--how should I
know? So everything must be kept to ourselves. I shall be at home all
the morning, and as soon as you have done with him you will come
straight to me, will you not."
That I promised, and we parted. What my parents must have thought of me
that evening, when I gave crooked answers to every question put, Heaven
only knows.
* * * * *
That night in good truth I really slept very little. I kept thinking of
all that might ensue, hearing pistol-shots fired, and seeing my poor
friend fall. But I was also much engaged in puzzling over Lottka's
conduct, and came more and more strongly to the belief that she was not
worth an honest true-hearted youth throwing down the gauntlet in her
cause, and answering for her virtue with his life.
The day had scarcely dawned before I was up, but on this occasion I had
no idea of verse-making. I dressed myself at first entirely in black
like an undertaker's assistant; then it occurred to me it might be
better to be less carefully got up, and rather to treat the matter with
indifference, as though such things daily occurred to me. So I merely
put on a comfortable summer attire, just substituting a black hat for
the cap I usually wore, and drawing on a pair of perfectly new gloves.
When I looked in the glass, I viewed myself as decidedly grown up, and
also decidedly easy-going and dignified. But for all that I could make
nothing of my breakfast. I had a bitter taste on my tongue.
About nine o'clock I set out. The house in which our enemy lived stood
in the best part of the town, and the porter told me he did not think
it would be easy to get an interview with the assessor. Nevertheless a
footman, although certainly treating me rather _de haut en bas_,
ushered me into a small room, and signified that his master would soon
appear.
I had plenty of time to look about me, and firmly resolved as I was not
to be cowed by outward circumstances, I could not help feeling, while
silently comparing this elegant bachelor's snuggery with the four bare
walls of my friend's room, that the game was very unequal. Two raw
half-fledged novices pitted against a thorough man of the world, and
not even perfectly certain that we had the right on our side. I owned
to myself that we were in a fair way to act a ridiculous part, and all
my lyrical idealism was powerless against the awkwardness of prosaic
facts.
The longer I waited, the more I made up my mind to see our enemy enter
with a mocking smile, and asked myself how to meet it with becoming
dignity. But to my surprise there was nothing of the kind.
In about ten minutes the door opened, and the assessor just put in his
head, saying in the most urbane tone possible, that he was very sorry
to be obliged to keep me waiting, not being quite dressed, but that he
begged me in the meantime to use his cigars and make myself at home.
Another five minutes, and in he came, shook my hand like an old
acquaintance, and begged me to be seated on his silk-covered divan. I
had to light a cigarette, but declined to share his breakfast which the
footman brought in on a silver tray, and I was looking out for the
pleasantest introduction possible to our affair, when he anticipated
me, and while pouring out his tea began in quite a friendly tone--
"I am very glad you have come. I can easily imagine what brings you,
and I may frankly tell you that yesterday's scene to which I owe your
acquaintance, made upon me a most painful impression. You will easily
understand that it is by no means pleasant to have a youth--an utter
stranger--fall upon one out of a clear sky with a perfect torrent of
invective. But on the other hand, I am sufficiently versed in human
nature to be able to explain the very peculiar conduct of your Hotspur
of a friend. He is in love with the little girl, and in that shows very
fair taste. He has diligently read romances and old legends, and thinks
he has gained from them a knowledge of the world. This sweet illusion
will vanish all too soon, but while it lasts it makes so happy, that it
is positive cruelty to blow away its soap-bubbles prematurely. I at
least would never deprive any one of his innocent enjoyment. And so I
am sincerely sorry to have disturbed any tender tie. I hope your friend
will be content with this explanation, and for my part I wish him
pleasant dreams, and when the time comes as gentle a waking as
possible. The cigar does not seem to draw well? Try another. What are
you studying if I may ask? You are still a student, are you not?"
I felt myself blush crimson. For a moment I doubted whether I would not
deny my position. However I stuck to the truth. "We shall pass our
final examination at Easter," I said.
He was magnanimous enough not to misuse his superiority.