"I am afraid you will spoil me so dreadfully that I shall find it very
difficult to return to my simple way of life," said Reinhold, as he
drove through the Brandenburg gate of the Thiergartenstrasse sitting by
Ferdinanda's side in his uncle's carriage.
"What is the good of having carriages and horses if they are not to be
used?" answered Ferdinanda.
She had thrown herself back upon the cushions with the tip of her foot
upon the opposite seat. Reinhold could hardly take his eyes off the
exquisite figure, which was shown off to the greatest advantage by a
pretty autumn toilette. He seemed to realise for the first time how
beautiful his cousin was, and he could quite understand why she so
plainly attracted the notice of the gaily-dressed crowds that thronged
the walks, and why several riders as they trotted past turned in their
saddles. Ferdinanda did not seem to observe it; the large eyes looked
straight before her, or were raised with a tired dreamy look to the
branches of the trees, which seemed tired and dreamy, too, as they
drank in unmoved the mild warmth of the autumn sunshine. Perhaps it was
this connection of ideas which made Reinhold ask himself about what age
the beautiful girl might be? and he was rather astonished when he
calculated that she could not be far from four and twenty. She had
always lived in his memory as a tall thin girl, not yet blossomed into
flower, but then certainly that was ten years ago. His cousin Philip,
who was then a long lanky youth, must now be very nearly thirty.
A light two-wheeled carriage that had been following them now overtook
them.
On the high driving-seat sat a tall, fine, broad-shouldered man, well,
and it struck Reinhold rather over dressed, driving a pair of
remarkably fine high-stepping black horses with his hands encased in
light kid gloves, and a little groom on the back seat with folded arms.
The driver had to get out of the way of a carriage that was coming
towards him. His attention was turned to the other side of the road,
but when he was some carriage-lengths off he leaned over his seat and
eagerly waved his hand and whip, to which Ferdinanda replied in her
usual careless way with a nod.
"Who was that?" asked Reinhold.
"My brother Philip."
"How strange!"
"What?"
"I was just thinking of him."
"That often happens, particularly in a big town and at the hour when
every one is out. I shall not be surprised if we see him again at the
Exhibition. Philip is a great lover of pictures, and draws and paints
by no means badly. There, he has stopped! I thought so. Philip has good
manners."
The next moment they were side by side with the phaeton.
"Good-morning, Ferdinanda! good-morning, Reinhold! I bless the light
which showed me how to light on you the very first day! Bad pun that,
Ferdinanda--eh? You look uncommonly well, my dear cousin, with your
brown face and beard; and you need not be ashamed of the lady by your
side either--eh? Where are you off to? The Exhibition? That is capital;
we shall meet. That horse is like a mad thing to-day. Au revoir!"
He touched with his whip the black horses, who were already beginning
to fidget, and drove quickly off, again nodding over his broad
shoulders.
"I should not have known Philip again," said Reinhold; "he is not like
you--I mean not like you or my uncle."
In fact, a greater contrast could hardly be imagined than between the
big red beardless smooth face of the young man with his short hair, and
the deeply-lined face of Uncle Ernst, surrounded and surmounted with
its grey beard and hair, or the refined and unusual beauty of
Ferdinanda.
"Lucky for him," said Ferdinanda.
"Why lucky?"
"He is what he looks, a man of the day; we are ghosts of the middle
ages. Consequently it is he who is looked upon as the ghost amongst us;
but it is not his fault."
"Then in this terrible rupture between him and my uncle you take his
side?"
"We are not asked our opinion at home; you will see that by-and-by."
"I can do that now," thought Reinhold, as Ferdinanda again sank back
amongst the cushions. "Ghosts, however, are not my favourite
companions, particularly on such a bright sunny day. There are so many
lovable people in the world--sweet Cilli, for instance. Whatever a man
expects he finds."
As though he wished in all haste to make up this morning for any
previous neglect, he now tried to fix his thoughts upon the image which
he imagined was always present to his mind, but which now he could not
call up before his eyes.
"That is all the fault of these crowds," said he angrily.
And certainly they were in a very disagreeable crowd. A regiment with
its noisy band was marching down the Friedrichstrasse, cutting across
under the trees. The stream of passers-by stood back on both sides,
especially near the carriage. Police, mounted and on foot, tried to
keep order amongst them with right goodwill, and to keep back the
crowds which occasionally expressed their impatience loudly.
Even Ferdinanda seemed to be impatient at the long stoppage. She looked
at her watch. "Half-past twelve already," she murmured; "we are losing
precious time." At last came the tail of the battalion, just as the
head of another left the Friedrichstrasse, with its band playing, and
the crowds let free pushed and struggled vehemently against each other
in the small space left between.
"Go on! go on, Johann!" cried Ferdinanda, with an eagerness which
Reinhold could only attribute to the nervousness she might have felt.
They only came out of one crowd into another.
In the first great square room at the Exhibition, the so-called
clock-room, the sight-seeing crowds were so thickly packed that
Reinhold, who had Ferdinanda on his arm, saw no possibility of getting
any further.
"It is not so full in the next room," said Ferdinanda; "but we must
wait a little. They always take care to hang good pictures here. We
will go separately, it is always easier to get on. How do you like this
beautiful Andreas Achenbach? Is not that perfect? Wonderful! in his
best and grandest style! Sky and sea--all in shades of grey, and yet
how sharply the different bits stand out. And how well he knows how to
bring life into what might seem monotonous by introducing that red flag
in the background on the mast of a schooner, and here in the foreground
by the flickering light upon the planks of the bridge as the water
streams over it. Masterly! quite masterly!"
Reinhold had listened to Ferdinanda's spirited description with the
greatest enjoyment. "She can talk about that," thought he. "Well, she
certainly is an artist. I can see it all, but could not express it, and
should not be able to say why it is so beautiful."
He stood there lost in contemplation of the picture. "What would be
the captain's next manœuvre? He certainly must tack to get before the
wind, but he was about a ship's-length too near the bridge for that: a
puzzling situation!" thought Reinhold.
He turned to express his opinion to Ferdinanda, and very nearly spoke
to a little fat old lady who had taken Ferdinanda's place, and with her
glass to her eyes was examining the picture together with about a dozen
other people, who stood round in a half circle. Reinhold made a
fruitless effort to get through them and to join Ferdinanda, whom he
saw at some little distance talking to one or two ladies so busily that
she never once turned round, and for the moment had evidently forgotten
him. "Another advantage of being separate which I will also make use
of," thought Reinhold. A picture close by caught his attention--another
sea-piece by Hans Gude, so said the catalogue--which pleased him almost
better than the first had done. To the left was the open sea, where a
large steamer lay at anchor; on the shore, which curved round in a
great bay, were to be seen in the distance amongst the sandhills a few
fishermen's huts, out of whose chimneys smoke was rising; between the
little village and the ship was a rowing-boat, while another quite in
the foreground was sailing towards the shore. The evening sky was
overcast with heavy clouds above the sandhills, so that the smoke could
hardly rise; only to the extreme west of the horizon over the open sea
was a small streak of dull red. The night would be stormy, and a sharp
breeze was already springing up and blowing the flag of the steamer
straight out, and on the bare sands in the foreground the breakers were
coming in heavily. Reinhold could not tear himself away from the
picture. It was so exactly like that evening when he had steered the
boat from the steamer to the shore. There in front the two servants had
packed themselves, here sat the President, one hand on the side, the
other clutching at the seat, not daring to pick up the covering which
had fallen from his knees; here sat the General, with the collar of his
coat turned up and his cap pulled far over his face, staring gloomily
before him; and here, close to the man who was steering, she sat,
gazing out so bravely upon the grey waste of waters and the foaming
breakers in front of her, and then looking up so frankly, so happily at
him with the dear brown eyes! Reinhold had forgotten the crowd around
him, had forgotten Ferdinanda, and did not even see the picture; he
only saw those dear brown eyes!
"Will they manage to get to land without a compass, Captain Schmidt?"
asked a voice close to him.
The brown eyes were looking at him as he had just seen them in
imagination, frank and happy; and the smile, too, was happy which
played over cheek and lip as, without the slightest embarrassment, she
gave him her hand as to an old friend.
"When did you arrive?"
"Yesterday evening."
"Then certainly you have had no time to inquire for us and to claim your
compass. Am I not honesty itself?"
"What use would it be to you?"
"Who can tell? You told me I had a great talent for navigation. But let
us get out of this crowd and look for my brother, whom I have just
lost. Are you alone?"
"I am with my cousin."
"Then you must introduce me to her. I saw her 'Shepherd Boy'
downstairs; it is charming! I have only just heard from my brother that
it is your cousin who is the sculptor, and that we are neighbours, and
all about it. Where is she?"
"I have been looking for her in vain."
"Now, that is delightful! Two lost children in a forest of people--I am
dreadfully frightened!"
She was not a bit frightened, Reinhold could see that. She was in her
own world, and was as much at home in it as he was at sea. How cleverly
and gracefully she slipped past two ladies who would not make way for
her! How carelessly she nodded to the enormously tall officer who made
his bow to her from the farthest corner of the room over the heads of
several hundred people! How will she manage to talk to Reinhold over
her shoulder when he was near, as he followed her with difficulty into
the small, narrow passage where the prints and water-colours were hung.
"I saw my brother go in here," said she. "There--no, that is Herr von
Saldern. Never mind, we shall find him presently--and your cousin?"
"She is not here either."
"Nor does that signify. She is as little likely to be in want of
friends as I am. As we are here, let us have a little chat? Or would
you rather look at the pictures? There are some very fine Passinis
here."
"I would rather talk."
"There is no better place for talking than the Exhibition during the
first few days. People only come to talk and to see their friends after
the long summer, when every one is away, and to examine the latest
fashions which the bankers' wives and daughters (we army people are not
thought much of) have brought from Paris. They have an immense deal to
do, and they know the pictures will not run away. My brother tells me
you are going to spend the winter here?"
"A few weeks at all events."
"Then of course you will stay longer. You cannot think how amusing
Berlin is in the winter--particularly for you, to whom so many circles
are open. Your uncle keeps open house--so says my brother, from whom
all my information comes. Artists come and go of course when the
daughter of the house is an artist, and so beautiful besides! Is she
really so beautiful? I am so curious. At home we are very much quieter
and rather monotonous, always the same people--officers; but there are
some charming men amongst them whom you would like to talk to; and
amongst the ladies are several who are very nice and pretty, both
married women and girls. Then Fräulein von Strummin is coming--Meta!
She swore it a thousand times at least at Golmberg, and has already
written half a dozen letters on the subject. She generally writes every
day, sometimes twice a day. The last was all about you."
"Now I am getting curious."
"I dare say; but I shall refrain from telling you--you men are quite
conceited enough. Papa, too, thinks very highly of you; did you know
that?"
"I did not know it; but I do not know anything that would make me
prouder."
"Well, only yesterday evening, when Ottomar was telling us of his
meeting with you, and that he had known you before in Orleans, he said
what a pity it was you had not stayed in the army. You might have done
it so easily, and could re-enter it even now."
"Very kind of him, Fräulein von Werben; and during the war I thought so
too, and if it had gone on longer--there is no saying; but in time of
peace a sub-lieutenant thirty years old! That would never do."
"True! true! But how would it be in the navy? You could rise there, and
still keep to your own profession."
"I do certainly wish to remain in it," answered Reinhold, "and
therefore I am thinking of accepting the proposal which President von
Sanden made to me a few days ago, and which would immediately give me a
command."
"A command!" exclaimed Elsa, with astonished eyes.
"As superintendent of pilots."
"Oh!"
There was a tone of disappointment in the exclamation which did not
escape Reinhold. He continued, smiling:
"That is to say, the superintendence of some dozen or so rough
weather beaten seafaring men, and of some dozen tough weather-proof
fast-sailing vessels, among which it is to be hoped there will be one
or two lifeboats; a humble post, Fräulein von Werben, but not without
its merits, and certainly plenty of danger; and taken for all in all,
worth while for a man with no great pretensions in life, but who would
willingly serve the world with his strength and talents, to give those
strength and talents and anything else he may have got to it
cheerfully. And I--well, I shall at all events stay in my own
profession."
They were standing in a window, rather away from the stream of people
who were passing rapidly to and fro in the corridor. Elsa was leaning
lightly against the window-sill, and gazing out into the street.
Reinhold doubted whether she heard what he said, till rapidly turning
her head she answered with her former lively manner:
"You are right, it is your especial profession. Accept the proposal
which our old friend has made you! You see you have friends in all
directions. And is any special place named yet, if I may ask?"
"Yes, I should be stationed at Wissow."
"At Wissow?"
She clapped her hands together and laughed.
"In our Wissow? Now that is delightful! Then we shall be almost
neighbours from Warnow and also from Strummin, if I pay my promised
visit to Meta. Then we shall come and you must take us out
sailing--quite far out, will you?"
"As far as you like!"
"An honest man is as good as his word! And now we really must set out
on our voyage of discovery. Oh, dear! there is Princess Heinrich August
with the Princesses! Those unlucky Passinis! She has seen me already,
she sees everything at a glance. I dare not go now; but----"
"I will go," said Reinhold.
"Yes, do; that will be better. What, will you not shake hands with me?
We shall meet again!"
She gave him her hand, which Reinhold held fast for a moment; she was
already looking towards the Princess. He went down the corridor. As he
looked back for a moment from the entrance, he saw Elsa making a deep
courtesy to the Princess, who stood still and spoke to her.
"How will she explain it," thought Reinhold. "She cannot say that she
was talking in the window to a Superintendent of pilots that is to be!"