THE GRANDMOTHER
For a few moments Frederic left the lovers to themselves and their
happiness. Then, as both raised their eyes to his, as if enquiring what
next should be done:
"The little sister," said he, "must go and tell all this to her big
sister, the big sister will relate it to the grandmother, and the
grandmother, who believes in me, will come and talk it over and we will
arrange things together."
"And when must I go and tell all this to the big sister?" enquired
Helen.
"At once, if you will."
"I will go now! You will wait for me, Karl?"
Karl's smile and gesture answered her. Helen glided out of his embrace
and vanished like a bird.
"Now for our own affairs!" said Frederic.
"How! what affairs?"
"I have something to tell you."
"Anything important?"
"Very serious."
"Anything about our marriage? You alarm me!"
"Suppose this morning when you doubted the possibility of Helen's love I
had answered, 'Do not be afraid, Helen loves and will marry you, but
there is an obstacle, and the marriage cannot possibly take place in
less than a year?'"
"What would you have? I should have been in despair at the delay, but
transported by the news."
"Well, my friend, I tell you now what I should have told you this
morning. Helen loves you. She did not ask me to tell you this; she has
told it herself, but at this moment there is an insurmountable
obstacle."
"At least you will explain what the obstacle is?"
"I am going to tell you what is yet a secret, Karl. In a week, or at
most, a fortnight, Prussia will declare war against Austria."
"Ah! I feared it. Bismarck is Germany's evil genius."
"Well, now you will understand. As friends we can serve on opposite
sides, that happens every day. But--as brothers-in-law--we could not.
You can hardly become my brother-in-law at the very moment of
unsheathing your sword against me."
"You are quite sure of your information?"
"Most certainly I am. Bismarck now occupies such a position in regard to
the Chambers, and has forced the king into such a position with regard
to the other German princes, that, either he must embroil Germany from
Berlin to Pest and even to Innspruck, or he will be tried for high
treason, and end his days in a fortress! Now, Bismarck is a power--a
power of darkness if you will--he will not be tried for high treason,
and he will embroil Germany--for this reason: Prussia has nothing to
gain by upsetting him, whereas by upsetting Germany she can annex two or
three little kingdoms or duchies, which will round off her borders very
comfortably."
"But the Confederation will be against him."
"Little will he care for that, so long as he himself remains
indispensable. And, listen to what I tell you; the more enemies Prussia
has, the more she will beat them. Our army is organized as no other
European army is organized--at the present moment."
"You say our army, then you have become a _Prussian_. I thought you were
a _German_."
"I am a Silesian, Prussian since the days of Frederic II. All I have I
owe to King William, and I would willingly die for him, while regretting
it should be in a bad cause."
"What do you advise in my case?"
"You are a Styrian, therefore an Austrian. Fight for your emperor like a
lion, and if by ill luck we meet in a cavalry charge you turn your horse
to the right, I also turn mine; we salute and pass on. Don't yourself
get lulled, that is all, and we will sign the marriage contract the day
peace is declared."
"Unhappily, I see no other way out of it, unless by good luck we could
both remain at Frankfort, a free and neutral town. I have no wish to
fight with Germans. It will be an iniquitous war. If it had been Turks,
French, or Russians, it would be all right, but between children of the
same country, speaking the same language! My patriotism ends there, I
confess."
"That last hope must be given up. I myself brought orders to the Prussian
general here to be ready to leave, Austria will certainly withdraw her
troops also. Frankfort may have a Bavarian garrison or be left with one
of her own, but most certainly we, to the last man, shall have to rejoin
the army."
"Poor dear Helen! What are we to say when she comes back?"
"We will say the marriage is decided on, that the betrothal will take
place; but the marriage must be delayed for a year. If, in spite of my
prophecy, war should not be declared, you can marry at once. If this
war does take place, it is not a war which will last. It will be a
tempest, a hurricane, passing over and destroying everything, then it
will be peace. If I fix a date, it is because I am sure not to have to
ask for further delay. Helen is eighteen, she will then be nineteen, you
are now twenty-six, you will then be twenty-seven. This delay is not
caused by circumstances of our making. Circumstances impose it on us. We
must give way to them."
"You will promise not to let anything change your opinion of me, and
that from to-day, June 12th, you count yourself my brother-in-law--on
parole?"
"The honour is too dear for me ever to think of repudiating it. From
to-day, June 12th, I am your brother-in-law--on parole."
"Madame von Beling!"
This exclamation was drawn from Karl by the unexpected appearance of an
elderly lady dressed entirely in black. She had splendid hair, white as
snow, and must in youth have been very beautiful. Her whole appearance
betokened distinction and benevolence.
"How is this, my dear Frederic?" said she, entering the room. "You have
been here since five o'clock this morning and I only hear of your
arrival from your wife at two in the afternoon; also, that you are in
pain."
"Dear grandmamma," answered Frederic, "but do I not also know that you
do not awake before eleven, and only rise at noon?"
"True, but they tell me you have a sprained arm. I have three excellent
remedies for sprains, one, which is perfect, came from my old friend
Goethe, one from another old friend, Madame Schröder, and the third from
Baron von Humboldt. You see the origin of all three is unimpeachable."
Turning to Karl, who, bowing, brought forward an armchair for her, she
said:
"You, Herr von Freyberg, have evidently no sprains, for you are in
hunting costume. Ah! you do not know how your Styrian dress recalls a
happy memory of my youth. The first time I saw my husband, Herr von
Beling it is now something like fifty-two years ago, for it was in
1814--at a carnival masked ball, he wore a similar costume to the one
you are now wearing. He was about your age. In the middle of the ball--I
remember as if it were yesterday--we heard of the landing of that
accursed Napoleon. The dancers vowed that if he again ascended the
throne they would go to fight him. The ladies each chose a cavalier, who
should be entitled to wear her colours in the coming campaign. I did
like the rest, and I chose Herr von Beling, although in my heart of
hearts--for I have remained French in heart--I could not be very angry
with the man who had made France so great.
"This fanciful nomination of Herr von Beling as a champion wearing my
colours opened my parents' house to him. He could not, he said, be my
knight without their permission. They gave their permission. Napoleon
again became emperor. Herr von Beling rejoined his regiment, but he
first asked my hand from my mother. My mother consulted me, I loved him.
It was agreed that we should marry when the war was over. The campaign
was not long, and when Herr von Beling returned we were married; I, at
the bottom of my heart feeling a little vexed that he had contributed
the three hundred millionth part towards the dethronement of my hero.
But I never confessed this small infidelity of enthusiasm, and our life
was no less happy on that account."
"Dear grandmamma," enquired Frederic, "did Herr von Beling--he must
have been very handsome in Styrian garb, I have seen his portrait--did
Herr von Beling kneel before you when he asked the favour of being your
knight?"
"Certainly, and very gracefully he did it too," returned the old lady.
"Did he do it better than my friend Karl?"
"Better than your friend Karl? But is your friend Karl likely to kneel
before me by any chance?"
"Just look at him."
Madame von Beling turned round and saw indeed Karl kneeling on the
ground before her.
"Good gracious!" said she laughing, "have I suddenly grown fifty years
younger?"
"My dear grandmother," said Frederic, while Karl took possession of the
old lady's hand. "No, you have still your threescore and ten years,
which become you so well that I will not let you off a single one of
them; but here is Karl, who also is going to the war, and who asks to be
called the knight of your granddaughter Helen."
"Really! and is my little granddaughter Helen actually old enough to
have a knight of her very own?"
"She is eighteen, grandmother."
"Eighteen! My age when I married Herr von Beling! It is the age when
leaves forsake the tree and are borne away by the wind. If Helen's hour
has struck," she continued with a mournful smile, "she must go like the
rest."
"Never, never, dear grandmother," cried the young girl who had entered
unperceived, "never so far but that I can every day kiss the dear hand
which gives life to all of us."
And she knelt down beside Karl and took the other hand.
"Ah!" said Madame von Beling, nodding her head, "so that is why I was
invited to come upstairs. I was to be caught in a trap. Well, what am I
to do now? How defend myself? To surrender at once is stupid; it is like
a scene from Molière."
"Very well, grandmamma, don't surrender, or at least not without
conditions."
"And what are they to be?"
"That these young people can be betrothed as soon as they like, but that
the marriage, like your own, can only be celebrated when the war is
over."
"What war?" asked Helen, in anxiety.
"We will tell you about it later. Meanwhile, if Karl is your knight, he
must wear your colours. What are they?"
"I have only one," replied Helen. "It is green."
"Then he is wearing them now," said Frederic indicating his friend's
coat with green facings, and the hat with its wide band of green velvet.
"And in honour of my lady love," said Karl, rising, "a hundred men shall
also wear them, with me, and like me."
Everything was now settled, and the whole party, Frederic leading the
way, Madame von Beling on Karl's arm, went downstairs to convey the good
news to the dear invalid.
That same evening it was known that the Diet was convoked at Frankfort
for June 15th.