FREDDY'S BIRTHDAY.
It is not to be denied that Stella's behaviour is always unconventional
and sometimes very thoughtless. On the whole, however, her little
indiscretions do not detract from her great natural charm. The
Baroness, not having taken any pains with her education, never of
herself notices these little indiscretions. But if a stranger alludes
to them her maternal ambition is profoundly outraged, and the
inevitable result is the bursting of a thunder-storm above Stella's
innocent head, a storm always sure to culminate in the fearful words,
"You will come to be like your aunt Eugenie!"
The real meaning of these words Stella never understands, since no one
has ever told her what has become of her aunt Eugenie, but she knows
that their significance must be terrible. Cowed and unhappy, she glides
about after every such explosion as if guilty of some crime, until her
bright animal spirits gain the upper hand and she begins afresh to talk
and to be thoughtless.
Her mother's last indignant remonstrance puts an end to all the kindly
freedom of her intercourse with Rohritz. She avoids him so evidently,
is so stiff and monosyllabic with him, that he at last questions the
captain as to the cause of this change, and receives from his friend a
distinct explanation.
"It is indeed no great bliss to be my sister's daughter," the captain
concludes. "Beneath her mother's intermittent care Stella seems to
me like a noble, sensitive horse beneath a very bad rider. I hate to
look on at such cruelty to animals, and I should be heartily glad to
find a good husband for her before her mother entirely ruins her. He
will have to be a good, noble-hearted fellow, clever and gentle at
once, with a firm, light hand, and plenty of money, for the child has
nothing,--more's the pity."
* * * * *
The time never flies faster than in summer: with no hurry, but with
graceful celerity, the lovely July days glide past in their rich robes
of dark green and sky-blue. The genii of summer play about us, fling
roses at our feet, and strew the grass with diamonds. They offer us
happiness, show it to us, whisper insinuatingly, "Take it,--ah, take
it." And some of us would gladly obey, but their hands are bound, and
others, remember how they once, on just such enchanting summer days,
stretched out their hands in eager longing for the roses, and at their
touch the roses vanished, leaving only the thorns in their grasp, and
they turn away with a mistrustful sigh. Others, again, examine the
offered joy hesitatingly, critically, refuse to decide, linger and
wait, and before they are aware the beneficent genii have vanished;
autumnal blasts have driven them away with the roses and the foliage.
The sun shines no longer, the skies are gray, and a cold wind sings a
shrill song of scorn in their ears.
'Passing!--passing!' One week, two weeks have passed since the Meinecks
arrived at Erlach Court. Each day Rohritz has found Stella more
charming, each day he has paid her more attention, but his real
intimacy with her has increased not one whit.
To-day is Freddy's birthday. Stella has presented him with a gorgeous
paint-box; he has received all sorts of gifts and toys from his parents
and relatives, and he has, of course, been more than usually petted and
caressed by his father and mother. His delight is extreme when he
learns that a picnic has been arranged for the day in his honour.
None of the older inmates of the castle take any special pleasure in
picnics; least of all has Katrine any liking for these complicated
undertakings. But Freddy adores them; and what would Katrine not do to
give her darling a delight?
It is Sunday. A gentle wind murmurs melodiously through the dewy grass,
and sighs among the thick foliage of the lindens like a dreamy echo of
the sweet monotonous tolling of bells that comes from the gleaming
white churches and chapels on the mountain-slopes on the other side of
the Save. From the open windows of the dining-room can be seen across
the low wall of the park the brown peasant-women, with pious,
expressionless faces, and huge square white headkerchiefs knotted at
the back of the neck, marching along the road to church. Above, in the
dark-blue sky myriads of fleecy clouds are flying, and swarms of airy
blue and yellow butterflies are fluttering about the Malmaison roses
and over the beds of heliotrope and mignonette in front of the castle.
There has been rain during the previous night, but not much, and the
whole earth seems decked in fresh and festal array. The sun shines
bright and golden, but the barometer is falling,--a depressing fact
which Baron Rohritz announces to all present at the birthday-breakfast.
Freddy's face grows long, and Katrine exclaims, hastily, "Your
barometer is intolerable!" She has no idea of sacrificing her child's
enjoyment to the whims of an impertinent barometer.
"Yes, Edgar, your barometer is a great bore," the captain remarks.
Whoever presumes to express an unpleasant or even inconvenient truth is
sure to be regarded as a great bore.
Meanwhile, Katrine has stepped out upon the terrace and convinced
herself that the weather is superb. Annihilating by a glance Rohritz
and his warning, she orders the servant who has just brought in a plate
of hot almond-cakes to have the horses harnessed immediately.
Rohritz placidly twirls his moustache, and remarks, as he rises from
table, that he will strap up his mackintosh. A few minutes afterwards
the carriages, a light-built drag and a solid landau, are announced. To
the drag are harnessed a couple of fiery young nags, while in default
of the carriage-horses, which have been ailing for a few days, the
landau is drawn by a pair of hacks, by no means spirited or
prepossessing in appearance.
The guests stand laughing and talking on the sweep before the castle.
Katrine's voice is heard giving orders; Stella is busy helping the
captain to pack away in the carriages the plentiful store of
provisions.
Swathed in airy clouds of muslin, sweetly suffering, but resisting the
united entreaties of all the rest that she will stay at home, Anastasia
leans against the vine-wreathed balustrade of the terrace, a
vinaigrette held to her nose.
Before Katrine has quite finished issuing her commands, the captain
with Stella mounts upon the front seat of the drag, the general taking
his place beside Freddy on the back seat. Want of room obliges the
captain to act as driver himself. He gathers up the reins, and his
steeds start off gaily. The rest of the company settle themselves as
best they can in the landau, the Baroness and Fraeulein von Gurlichingen
on the back seat, Rohritz with Katrine opposite them. A few anxious
moments ensue, in which every one asks the rest if they have not
forgotten something. The servants bring the due quantity of rugs,
plaids, umbrellas, and opera-glasses, and the coachman is bidden to
drive off. The hacks sadly stretch out their long, skinny legs, and
trot laboriously after the brisk drag.
In Reierstein, at the foot of a romantic ruin,--no picnic is
conceivable without a ruin,--a _dejeuner a la fourchette_ is to be
spread in the open air. Dinner, which has been postponed from six to
seven, is to be taken in Erlachhof on the return of the party.
Katrine is right: the day is superb, a fact of which she frequently
reminds the possessor of the odious barometer.
"Wait until evening before declaring the day fine," Rohritz rejoins,
sententiously. "The sun's rays sting like harvest-flies: that is a bad
sign."
"Oh, you are always foreboding evil," Katrine says, with irritation.
Rohritz bows, and silence ensues. Katrine looks preoccupied, wondering
whether the mayonnaise has not been forgotten at the last moment. Stasy
flourishes her vinaigrette languishingly, and the Baroness, who has
been hitherto absorbed in her own reflections, suddenly arouses
sufficiently to utter in her deepest tones an astounding observation
upon the imperfections of creation and the superfluity of human
existence, whereupon Rohritz agrees with her, seconding her views with
great ability in a Schopenhauer duet in which she maintains the
principal part. She asserts that marriage, since it is a means for the
continuance of the human species, should be avoided by all respectable
people, while Rohritz suggests the invention of a tremendous dynamite
machine which shall shatter the entire globe, as a fitting problem for
the wits of future engineers.
Meanwhile, the sunbeams gleam warm and golden upon the luxuriant July
foliage, and tremble upon the clear ripples of the trout-stream
plashing merrily along by the roadside. In the white cups of the wild
vines that drape with tender grace the willows and elders on the banks
of the little stream, prismatic drops of dew are shining. The tall
grasses wave dreamily, and at their feet peep out pink, yellow, and
blue wild flowers, while the air is filled with the melody of birds.
Our two pessimists, however, take no note whatever of these trifles.
The road grows stony and steep; the hacks drag along more and more
wearily and at last come to a stand-still. Anastasia becomes greener
and greener of hue, and sinks back half fainting. "Ah, I feel as if I
should die!"
In hopes of lightening the carriage and of avoiding the sight of
Fraeulein von Gurlichingen's distress, Rohritz proposes to alight and
pursue on foot the shorter path to Reierstein, with which he is
familiar.