Within a few days of the funeral mother and son were in England.
Rafael was now to enter upon a long course of study, for which, by his
earlier education, his mother had prepared him, and for which, by
painful privations, she had saved up sufficient money.
The property was to the last degree impoverished, and burdened with
mortgages, and the timber only fit for fuel.
Their neighbour the Dean, a clear-headed and practical man, took upon
himself the management of affairs; as money was needed the work of
devastation must begin at once. The mother and son did not wish to
witness it.
They came to England like two fugitives who, after many and great
trials, for affection's sake seek a new home and a new country.
Rafael was then twelve years old.
They were inseparable, and in the shiftless life that they led in their
new surroundings they became, if possible, more closely attached to
each other.
Yet not long afterwards they had their first disagreement.
He had gone to school, had begun to learn the language and to make
friends, and had developed a great desire to show off.
He was very tall and slender and was anxious to be athletic. He took an
active part in the play-ground, but here he achieved no great success.
On the other hand, thanks to his mother, he was better informed than
his comrades, and he contrived to obtain prominence by this. This
prominence must be maintained, and nothing answered so well as boasting
about Norway and his father's exploits. His statements were somewhat
exaggerated, but that was not altogether his fault, He knew English
fairly well, but had not mastered its niceties. He made use of
superlatives, which always come the most readily. It was true that he
had inherited from his father twenty guns, a large sailing-boat, and
several smaller ones; but how magnificent these boats and guns had
become!
He intended to go to the North Pole, he said, as his father had done,
to shoot white bears, and invited them all to come with him.
He made a greater impression on his hearers than he himself was aware
of; but something more was wanted, for it was impossible to foretell
from day to day what might be expected of him. He had to study hard in
order to meet the demand.
As an outcome of this, he betook himself one evening to the
hairdresser's, with some of his schoolfellows, and, without more ado,
requested him to cut his hair quite close. That ought to satisfy them
for a long time.
The other boys had teased him about his hair, and it got in the way
when he was playing--he hated it. Besides, ever since the story of
Absalom's rebellion and punishment, it had remained a secret terror to
him, but it had never before occurred to him to have it cut off.
His schoolfellows were dismayed, and the hairdresser looked on it as a
work of wilful destruction.
Rafael felt his heart begin to sink, but the very audacity of the thing
gave him courage They should see what he dare do. The hairdresser
hesitated to act without Fru Kaas's knowledge, but at length he ceased
to make objections.
Rafael's heart sank lower and lower, but he must go through with it
now. "Off with it," he said, and remained immovable in the chair.
"I have never seen more splendid hair," said the hairdresser
diffidently, taking up the scissors but still hesitating.
Rafael saw that his companions were on the tiptoe of expectation. "Off
with it," he said again with assumed indifference.
The hairdresser cut the hair into his hand and laid it carefully in
paper.
The boys followed every snip of the scissors with their eyes, Rafael
with his ears; he could not see in the glass.
When the hairdresser had finished and had brushed his clothes for him,
he offered him the hair. "What do I want with it?" said Rafael. He
dusted his elbows and knees a little, paid, and left the shop, followed
by his companions. They, however, exhibited no particular admiration.
He caught a glimpse of himself in the glass as he went out, and thought
that he looked frightful.
He would have given all that he possessed (which was not much), he
would have endured any imaginable suffering, he thought, to have his
hair back again.
His mother's wondering eyes rose up before him with every shade of
expression; his misery pursued him, his vanity mocked him. The end of
it all was that he stole up to his room and went to bed without his
supper.
But when his mother had vainly waited for him, and some one suggested
that he might be in the house, she went to his room.
He heard her on the stairs; he felt that she was at the door. When she
entered he had hidden his head beneath the bedclothes. She dragged them
back; and at the first sight of her dismay he was reduced to such
despair that the tears which were beginning to flow ceased at once.
White and horror-struck she stood there; indeed she thought at first
that some one had done it maliciously; but when she could not extract a
word of enlightenment, she suspected mischief.
He felt that she was waiting for an explanation, an excuse, a prayer
for forgiveness, but he could not, for the life of him, get out a word.
What, indeed, could he say? He did not understand it himself. But now
he began to cry violently. He huddled himself together, clasping his
head between his hands. It felt like a bristly stubble.
When he looked up again his mother was gone.
A child sleeps in spite of everything. He came down the next morning in
a contrite mood and thoroughly shamefaced. His mother was not up; she
was unwell, for she had not slept a wink. He heard this before he went
to her. He opened her door timidly. There she lay, the picture of
wretchedness.
On the toilet-table, in a white silk handkerchief, was his hair,
smoothed and combed.
She lay there in her lace-trimmed nightgown, great tears rolling down
her cheeks. He had come, intending to throw himself into her arms and
beg her pardon a thousand times. But he had a strong feeling that he
had better not do so, or was he afraid to? She was in the clouds, far,
far away. She seemed in a trance: something, at once painful and
sacred, held her enchained. She was both pathetic and sublime.
The boy stepped quietly from the room and hurried off to school.
She remained in bed that day and the next, and made him sit with the
servant in order that she might be alone. When she was in trouble she
always behaved thus, and that he should cross her in this way was the
greatest trial that she had ever known. It came upon her, too, like a
deluge of rain from a clear sky. NOW it seemed to her that she could
foresee his future--and her own.
She laid the blame of all this on his paternal ancestry. She could not
see that incessant artistic fuss and too much intellectual training
had, perhaps, aroused in him a desire for independence.
The first time that she saw him again with his cropped head, which grew
more and more like his father's in shape, her tears flowed quietly.
When he wished to come to her side, she waived him back with her
shapely hand, nor would she talk to him; when he talked she hardly
looked at him; till at last he burst into tears. For he suffered as one
can suffer but once, when the childish penitence is fresh and therefore
boundless, and when the yearning for love has received its first rebuff.
But when, on the fifth day, she met him coming up the stairs, she stood
still in dismay at his appearance: pale, thin, timid; the effect
perhaps heightened by the loss of his hair. He, too, stood still,
looking forlorn and abject, with disconsolate eyes. Then hers filled;
she stretched out her arms. He was once more in his Paradise, but they
both cried as though they must wade through an ocean of tears before
they could talk to each other again.
"Tell me about it now," she whispered. This was in her own room. They
had spoken the first fond words and kissed each other over and over
again. "How could this have happened, Rafael?" she whispered again,
with her head pressed to his; she did not wish to look at him while she
spoke.
"Mother," he answered, "it is worse to cut down the woods at home, at
Hellebergene, than that I--"
She raised her head and looked at him. She had taken off her hat and
gloves, but now she put them quickly on again.
"Rafael, dear," she said, "shall we go for a walk together in the park,
under the grand old trees?"
She had felt his retort to be ingenious.
After this episode, however, England, and more especially her son's
schoolfellows, became distasteful to her, and she constantly made plans
to keep him away from the latter out of school hours.
She found this very easy; sometimes she went over his studies with him,
at others they visited all the Manufactories and "Works" for miles
round.
She liked to see for herself and awakened the same taste in him.
Factories which, as a rule, were closed to visitors, were readily
opened to the pretty elegant lady and her handsome boy, "who after all
knew nothing at all about it;" and they were able to see almost all
that they wished. It was a less congenial task to use her influence to
turn his thoughts to higher things, but it was rarely, nevertheless,
that she failed. She struggled hard over what she did not understand
and sought for help. To explain these things to Rafael in the most
attractive manner possible became a new occupation for her.
His natural disposition inclined him to such studies; but to a boy of
thirteen, who was thus kept from his comrades and their sports, it soon
became a nuisance.
No sooner had Fru Kaas noticed this than she took active steps. They
left England and crossed to France.
The strange speech threw him back on her; no one shared him with her.
They settled in Calais. A few days after their arrival she cut her hair
short; she hoped that it would touch him to see that as he would not
look like her, she tried to look like him--to be a. boy like him. She
bought a smart new hat, she composed a jaunty costume, new from top to
toe, for EVERYTHING must be altered with the hair. But when she stood
before him, looking like a girl of twenty-five, merry, almost
boisterous, he was simply dismayed--nay, it was some time before he
could altogether comprehend what had happened. As long as he could
remember his mother, her eyes had always looked forth from beneath a
crown; more solemn, more beautiful.
"Mother," he said, "where are you?"
She grew pale and grave, and stammered something about its being more
comfortable--about red hair not looking well when it began to lose its
colour--and went into her room. There she sat with his hair before her
and her own beside it; she wept.
"Mother, where are you?" She might have answered, "Rafael, where are
you?"
She went about with him everywhere. In France two handsome, stylishly
dressed people are always certain to be noticed, a thing which she
thoroughly appreciated.
During their different expeditions she always spoke French; he begged
her to talk Norse at least now and then, but all in vain.
Here, too, they visited every possible and impossible factory.
Unpractical and reserved as she was on ordinary occasions, she could be
full of artifice and coquetry whenever she wished to gain access to a
steam bakery and particular as she generally was about her toilette,
she would come away again sooty and grimy if thereby she could procure
for Rafael some insight into mechanics. She shrank from foul air as
from the cholera, yet inhaled sulphuric acid gas as though it had been
ozone for his sake.
"Seeing for yourself, Rafael, is the substance, other methods are its
shadow;" or "Seeing for yourself, Rafael, is meat and drink, the other
is but literature."
He was not quite of the same opinion: he thought that Notre Dame de
Paris, from which he was daily dragged away, was the richest banquet
that he had yet enjoyed, while from the factory of Mayel et fils there
issued the most deadly odours.
His reading--she had encouraged him in it for the sake of the language
and had herself helped him; now she was jealous of it and could not be
persuaded to get him new books; but he got them nevertheless.
They had been in Calais for several months; he had masters and was
beginning to feel himself at home, when there arrived at the pension a
widow from one of the colonies, accompanied by her daughter, a girl of
thirteen.
The new comers had not appeared at meals for more than two days before
the young gentleman began to pay his court to the young lady. From the
first moment it was a plain case. Very soon every one in the pension
was highly amused to notice how fluent his French was becoming; his
choice of words at times was even elegant! The girl taught him it
without a trace of grammar, by charm, sprightliness, a little nonsense;
a pair of confiding eyes and a youthful voice were sufficient. It was
from her that he got, by stealth, one novel after another. By stealth
it had to be; by stealth Lucie had procured them; by stealth she gave
them to him; by stealth they were read; by stealth she took them back
again. This reading made him a little absent-minded, but otherwise
nothing betrayed his flights into literature: to be sure, they were not
very wonderful.
Fru Kaas noticed her son's flirtation, and smiled with the rest over
his progress in French. She had less objection to this friendship, in
which, to a great extent, she shared, than to those in England, from
which she had been quite excluded. In the evenings she would take the
mother and daughter out for short excursions; and these she greatly
enjoyed. But the novel reading which the young people carried on
secretly had resulted in conversations of a "grown up" type. They
talked of love with the deep experience which is proper to their age,
they talked with still greater discretion as to when their wedding
should take place; on this point they indirectly said much which caused
them many a delightful tremor. As they were accustomed to talk about
themselves before others, to describe their feelings in a veiled form,
it often happened when there were many people near that they carried
this amusement further, and before they were themselves aware of it,
they were in the full tide of a symbolic language and played "catch"
with each other.
Fru Kaas noticed one evening that the word "rose" was drawn out to a
greater length than it was possible for any rose to attain to; at the
same time she saw the languishing look in their eyes, and broke in with
the question, "What do you mean about the rose, child?"
If any one had peeped behind a rose-bush and caught them kissing one
another, a thing they had never done, they could not have blushed more.
The next day Fru Kaas found new rooms, a long way from the quay near
which they were living.
Rafael had suffered greatly at being torn away from England just as he
had come down from his high horse and had put himself on a par with his
companions, but not the least notice was taken of his trouble; it had
only annoyed his mother.
To be absolutely debarred from the books he was so fond of had been
hard; but up to this time, being in a foreign land, amid foreign
speech, he had always fallen back upon her. Now he openly defied her.
He went straight off to the hotel and sought out Madame Mery and her
daughter as though nothing had occurred. This he did every day when he
had finished his lessons. Lucie had now become his sole romance; he
gave all his leisure time to her, and not only that (for it no longer
sufficed to see her at her mother's), they met on the quay! At times a
maid-servant walked with them for appearance sake, at others she kept
in the background. Sometimes they would go on board a Norwegian ship,
sometimes they wandered about or strolled beneath some great trees.
When he saw her in her short frock come out of the door, saw her quick
movements, and her lively signals to him with parasol or hat or
flowers, the quay, the ships, the bales, the barrels, the air, the
noise, the crowd, all seemed to play and sing,
"Enfant! si j'etais roi je donerais l'empire,
Et mon char, et mon septre, et mon peuple a genoux,"
and he ran to meet her.
He never dared to do more than to take both her chubby brown hands, nor
to say more than "You are very sweet, you are very very good." And she
never went further than to look at him, walk with him, laugh with him,
and say to him, "You are not like the others." What experiences there
had been in the life of this girl of thirteen goodness alone knows. He
never asked her, he was too sure of her.
He learned French from her as one bird feeds from another's bill, or as
one who looks at his image in a fountain, as he drinks from it.
One day, as mother and son were at breakfast, she glanced quietly
across at him. "I heard of an excellent preparatory school of mechanics
at Rouen," she said, "so I wrote to inquire about it, and here is the
answer. I approve of it in all respects, as you will do when you read
it. I think that we shall go to Rouen; what do you say to it?"
He grew first red, then white; then put down his bread, his table
napkin; got up and left the room. Later in the day she asked him
whether he would not read the letter; he left her without answering. At
last, just as he was going to meet Lucie on the quay, she said, and
this time with determination, that they were to leave in the course of
an hour. She had already packed up; as they stood there the man came to
fetch the luggage. At that moment he felt that he could thoroughly
understand why his father had beaten her.
As they sat in the carriage which took them to the station he suffered
keenly. It could not nave been worse, he thought, if his mother had
stabbed him with a knife. He did not sit beside her in the railway
carriage.
During the first days at Rouen he would not answer when she spoke to
him, nor ask a single question. He had adopted her own tactics; he
carried them through with a cruelty of which he was not aware.
For a long time he had been disposed to criticise her; now that this
criticism was extended to all that she said or did, the spirit of
accusation tinctured her whole life; their joint past seemed altered
and debased.
His father's bent form, in the log chair on the hairless skin,
malodorous and dirty, rose up before him, in vivid contrast with his
mother in her well appointed, airy, perfumed rooms!
When Rafael stood by his father's body he had felt the same thing--that
the old man had been badly treated. He himself had been encouraged to
neglect his father, to shun him, to evade his orders. At that time he
had laid the blame on the people on the estate; now he put it all down
to his mother's account. His father had certainly adored her once, and
this feeling had changed into wild self-consuming hatred. What had
happened? He did not know; but he could not but admit that his mother
would have tried the patience of Job.
He pictured to himself how Lucie would come running with her flowers,
search for him over the whole quay, farther and farther every time,
standing still at last. He could not think of it without tears, and
without a feeling of bitterness.
But a child is a child. It was not a life-long grief. As the place was
new and historically interesting, and as lessons had now begun and his
mother was always with him, this feeling wore off, but the mutual
restraint was still there. The critical spirit which had first been
roused in England never afterwards left Rafael.
The hours of study which they passed together produced good results.
Beginning as her pupil, he had ended by becoming her teacher. She was
anxious to keep up with him, and this was an advantage to him, on
account of her almost too minute accuracy, but still more from her
intelligent questions. Apart from study they passed many pleasant hours
together, but they both knew that something was missing in their
conversation which could never be there again.
At longer or shorter intervals a shy silence interrupted this
intercourse. Sometimes it was he, sometimes she, who, for some cause or
other, often a most trivial one, elected not to reply, not to ask a
question, not to see. When they were good friends he appreciated the
best side of her character, the self-sacrificing life which she led for
him. When they were not friends it was exactly the opposite. When they
were friends, he, as a rule, did whatever she wished. He tried to atone
for the past. He was in the land of courtesy and influenced by its
teaching. When he was not friends with her he behaved as badly as
possible. He early got among bad companions and into dissipated habits;
he was the very child of Rebellion. At times he had qualms of
conscience on account of it.
She guessed this, and wished him to guess that she guessed it.
"I perceive a strange atmosphere here, fie! Some one has mixed their
atmosphere with yours, fie!" And she sprinkled him with scent.
He turned as red as fire and, in his shame and misery, did not know
which way to look. But if he attempted to speak she became as stiff as
a poker, and, raising her small hand, "Taisez-vous des egards, sil vous
plait."
It must be said in her excuse that, notwithstanding the daring books
which she had written, she had had no experience of real life; she knew
no form of words for such an occasion. It came at last to this pass,
that she, who had at one time wished to control his whole life and
every thought in it, and who would not share him with any one, not even
with a book, gradually became unwilling to have any relations with him
outside his studies.
The French language especially lends itself to formal intercourse and
diplomacy. They grasped this fact from the first. It may, indeed, have
contributed to form their mutual life. It was more equitable and caused
fewer collisions. At the slightest disagreement it was at once
"Monsieur mon fils" or simply "Monsieur," or "Madame ma mere," or
"Madame."
At one time his health seemed likely to suffer: his rapid growth and
the studies, to which she kept him very closely, were too much for his
strength.
But just then something remarkable occurred. At the time when Rafael
was nineteen he was one day in a French chemical factory, and, as it
were in a flash, saw how half the power used in the machinery might be
saved. The son of the owner who had brought him there was a
fellow-student. To him he confided his discovery. They worked it out
together with feverish excitement to the most minute details. It was
very complex, for it was the working of the factory itself which was
involved. The scheme was carefully gone into by the owner, his son, and
their assistants together, and it was decided to try it. It was
entirely successful; LESS than half the motive power now sufficed.
Rafael was away at the time that it was inaugurated; he had gone down a
mine. His mother was not with him; he never took her down mines with
him. As soon as ever he returned home he hurried off with her to see
the result of his work. They saw everything, and they both blushed at
the respect shown to them by the workmen. They were quite touched when,
the owner being called, they heard his expressions of boundless
delight. Champagne flowed for them, accompanied by the warmest thanks.
The mother received a beautiful bouquet. Excited by the wine and the
congratulations, proud of his recognition as a genius, Rafael left the
place with his mother on his arm. It seemed to him as though he were on
one side, and all the rest of the world on the other. His mother walked
happily beside him, with her bouquet in her hand. Rafael wore a new
overcoat--one after his own heart, very long and faced with silk, and
of which he was excessively proud. It was a clear winter's day; the sun
shone on the silk, and on something more as well.
"There is not a speck on the sky, mother," he said.
"Nor one on your coat either," she retorted; for there had been a great
many on his old one, and each had had its history.
He was too big now to be turned to ridicule, and too happy as well. She
heard him humming to himself: it was the Norwegian national air. They
came back to the town again as from Elysium. All the passers-by looked
at them: people quickly detect happiness. Besides Rafael was a head
taller than most of them and fairer in complexion. He walked quickly
along beside his elegant mother, and looked across the Boulevard as
though from a sunny height.
"There are days on which one feels oneself a different person," he said.
"There are days on which one receives so much," she answered, pressing
his arm.
They went home, threw aside their wraps, and looked at one another.
Sketches of the machinery which they had just seen lay about, as well
as some rough drawings. These she collected and made into a roll.
"Rafael," she said, and drew herself up, half laughing, half trembling,
"kneel; I wish to knight you."
It did not seem unnatural to him; he did so.
"Noblesse oblige," she said, and let the roll of paper approach his
head; but therewith she dropped it and burst into tears.
He spent a merry evening with his friends, and was enthusiastically
applauded. But as he lay in bed that night he felt utterly despondent.
The whole thing might, after all, have been a mere chance. He had seen
so much, had acquired so much information; it was no discovery that he
had made. What was it, then? He was certainly not a genius; that must
be an exaggeration. Could one imagine a genius without a victor's
confidence, or had his peculiar life destroyed that confidence? This
anxiety which constantly intruded itself; this bad conscience; this
dreadful, vile conscience; this ineradicable dread; was it a
foreboding? Did it point to the future?
It was about half a year after this that his desultory studies became
concentrated on electricity, and after a time this took them to Munich.
During the course of these studies he began to write, quite
spontaneously. The students had formed a society, and Rafael was
expected to contribute a paper. But his contribution was so original
that they begged him to show it to the professor, and this encouraged
him greatly. It was the professor, too, who had his first article
printed. A Norwegian technical periodical accepted a subsequent one,
and this was the external influence which turned his thoughts once more
towards Norway. Norway rose before him as the promised land of
electricity. The motive power of its countless waterfalls was
sufficient for the whole world! He saw his country during the winter
darkness gleaming with electric lustre. He saw her, too, the
manufactory of the world, the possessor of navies. Now he had something
to go home for!
His mother did not share his love for their country, and had no desire
to live in Norway. But the money which she had saved up for his
education bad been spent long ago. Hellebergene had had its share. The
estate did not yield an equivalent, for it was essentially a timbered
estate, and the trees on it were still immature.
So it was to be home! A few years alone at Hellebergene was just what
he wished for. But--something always occurred to prevent their
departure at the time fixed for it. First he was detained by an
invention which he wished to patent. Up to the present time he had only
sketched out ideas which others had adopted; now it was to be
different. The invention was duly patented and handed over to an agent
to sell; but still they did not start. What was the hindrance? Another
invention with a fresh patent more likely to sell than the first, which
unfortunately did not go off. This patent was also taken out, which
again cost money, and was handed over to the agent to be sold. Could he
not start now? Well, yes, he thought he could. But Fru Kaas soon
realised that he was not serious, so she sought the help of a young
relative, Hans Ravn, an engineer, like most of the Ravns. Rafael liked
Hans, for he was himself a Ravn in temperament, a thing that he had not
realised before; it was quite a revelation to him. He had believed that
the Ravns were like his mother, but now found that she greatly differed
from them. To Hans Ravn Fru Kaas said plainly that now they must start.
The last day of May was the date fixed on, and this Hans was to tell
every one, for it would make Rafael bestir himself, his mother thought,
if this were known everywhere. Hans Ravn spread this news far and near,
partly because it was his province to do so, partly because he hoped it
would be the occasion of a farewell entertainment such as had never
been seen. A banquet actually did take place amid general enthusiasm,
which ended in the whole company forming a procession to escort their
guest to his house. Here they encountered a crowd of officers who were
proceeding home in the same manner. They nearly came to blows, but
fraternised instead, and the engineers cheered the officers and the
officers the engineers.
The next day the history of the two entertainments and the collision
between the guests went the round of the papers.
This produced results which Fru Kaas had not foreseen. The first was a
very pleasant one. The professor who had had Rafael's first article
published drove up to the door, accompanied by his family. He mounted
the stairs, and asked her if she would not, in their company, once more
visit the prettiest parts of Munich and its vicinity. She felt
flattered, and accepted the invitation. As they drove along they talked
of nothing but Rafael: partly about his person, for he was the darling
of every lady, partly about the future which lay before him. The
professor said that he had never had a more gifted pupil. Fru Kaas had
brought an excellent binocular glass with her, which she raised to her
eyes from time to time to conceal her emotion, and their hearty praise
seemed to flood the landscape and buildings with sunshine.
The little party lunched together, and drove home in the afternoon.
When Fru Kaas re-entered her room, she was greeted by the scent of
flowers. Many of their friends who had not till now known when they
were to leave had wished to pay them some compliment. Indeed, the maid
said that the bell had been ringing the whole morning. A little later
Rafael and Hans Ravn came in with one or two friends. They proposed to
dine together. The sale of the last patent seemed to be assured, and
they wished to celebrate the event. Fru Kaas was in excellent spirits,
so off they went.
They dined in the open air with a number of other people round them.
There was music and merriment, and the subdued hum of distant voices
rose and fell in the twilight. When the lamps were lighted, they had on
one side the glare of a large town, on the other the semi-darkness was
only relieved by points of light; and this was made the subject of
poetical allusions in speeches to the friends who were so soon to leave
them.
Just then two ladies slowly passed near Rafael's chair. Fru Kaas, who
was sitting opposite, noticed them, but he did not. When they had gone
a short distance they stood still and waited, but did not attract his
attention. Then they came slowly back again, passing close behind his
chair, but still in vain. This annoyed Fru Kaas. Her individuality was
so strong that her silence cast a shadow over the whole party; they
broke up.
The next morning Rafael was out again on business connected with the
patent. The bell rang, and the maid came in with a bill; it had been
brought the previous day as well, she said. It was from one of the
chief restaurateurs of the town, and was by no means a small one. Fru
Kaas had no idea that Rafael owed money--least of all to a
restaurateur. She told the maid to say that her son was of age, and
that she was not his cashier. There was another ring--the maid
reappeared with a second bill, which had also been brought the day
before. It was from a well-known wine merchant; this, too, was not a
small one. Another ring; this time it was a bill for flowers and by no
means a trifle. This, too, had been brought the day before. Fru Kaas
read it twice, three times, four times: she could not realise that
Rafael owed money for flowers--what did he want them for? Another ring;
now it was a bill from a jeweller. Fru Kaas became so nervous at the
ringing and the bills that she took to flight. Here, then, was the
explanation of their postponed departure: he was held captive; this was
the reason for all his anxiety about selling the patent. He had to buy
his freedom. She was hardly in the street when an unpretending little
old woman stepped up to her, and asked timidly if this might be Frau
von Kas? Another bill, thought Fru Kaas, eyeing her closely. She
reminded one of a worn-out rose-bush with a few faded blossoms on it:
she seemed poor and inexperienced in all save humility.
"What do you want with me?" inquired Fru Kaas sympathetically, resolved
to pay the poor thing at once, whatever it might be.
The little woman begged "Tausend Mal um Verzeihung," but she was "Einer
Beamten-Wittwe" and had read in the paper that the young Von Kas was
leaving, and both she and her daughter were in such despair that she
had resolved to come to Frau von Kas, who was the only one--and here
she began to cry.
"What does your daughter want from me?" asked Fru Kaas rather less
gently.
"Ach! tausend Mal um Verzeihung gnadige Frau," her daughter was married
to Hofrath von Rathen--"ihrer grossen Schonheit wegen"--ah, she was so
unhappy, for Hofrath von Rathen drank and was cruel to her. Herr von
Kas had met her at the artists' fete--"Und so wissen Sie zwei so junge,
reizende Leute." She looked up at Fru Kaas through her tears--looked up
as though from a rain-splashed cellar window; but Fru Kaas had reverted
to her abrupt manner, and as if from an upper storey the poor little
woman heard, "What does your daughter want with my son?"
"Tausend Mal um Verzeihung," but it had seemed to them that her
daughter might go with them to Norway, Norway was such a free country.
"Und die zwei Jungen haben sich so gern."
"Has he promised her this?" said Fru Kaas, with haughty coldness.
"Nein, nein, nein," was the frightened reply. They two, mother and
daughter, had thought of it that day. They had read in the paper that
the young Von Kas was going away. "Herr Gott in Himmel!" if her
daughter could thus be rid at once of all her troubles! Frau von Kas
had not an idea of what a faithful soul, what a tender wife her
daughter was.
Fru Kaas crossed hastily over to the opposite pavement. She did not go
quite so fast as a person in chase of his hat, but it seemed to the
poor little creature, left in the lurch, with folded hands and
frightened eyes, that she had vanished faster than her hopes. On the
other side of the waystood a pretty young flower-girl who was waiting
for the elegant lady hurrying in her direction. "Bitte, gnadige Frau."
Here is another, thought the hunted creature. She looked round for
help, she flew up the street, away, away--when another lady popped up
right in front of her, evidently trying to catch her eye. Fru Kaas
dashed into the middle of the street and took refuge in a carriage.
"Where to?" asked the driver.
This she had not stopped to consider, but nevertheless answered boldly,
"The Bavaria!"
In point of fact she had had an idea of seeing the view of the city and
its environs from "Bavaria's" lofty head before leaving. There were a
great many people there, but Fru Kaas's turn to go up soon came; but
just as she had reached the head of the giantess and was going to look
out, she heard a lady whisper close behind her, "That is his mother."
It was probable that there were several mothers up there in "Bavaria's"
head beside Fru Kaas, nevertheless she gathered her skirts together and
hurried down again.
Rafael came home to dine with his mother; he was in the highest
spirits--he had sold his patent. But he found her sitting in the
farthest corner of the sofa, with her big binocular glass in her hand.
When he spoke to her she did not answer, but turned the glass with the
small end towards him; she wished him to look as far off as possible.