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BENTLEY'S
POPULAR WORKS.
* * *
One Shilling and Sixpence.
Tales from Bentley, Vols. 1, 2, 3, and 4.
Two Shillings and Sixpence.
What to do with the Cold Mutton.
Everybody's Pudding Book; or, Puddings, Tarts, &c., for all the Year
round.
The Lady's Dessert Book. By the Author of 'Everybody's Pudding
Book.'
Nelly Armstrong. A Story of Edinburgh Life.
Rita: an Autobiography.
The Semi-Detached House. Edited by Lady Theresa Lewis.
The Semi-Attached Couple. By the same Author.
The Ladies of Bever Hollow. By the Author of 'Mary Powell.'
Village Belles. By the same Author.
Easton. By Hon. Lena Eden.
The Season Ticket.
Notes on Noses. By Eden Warwick.
Salad for the Social. Books, Medicine, Lawyers, the Pulpit, &c.
Say and Seal. By the Author of 'Wide Wide World.'
Three Shillings and Sixpence.
Quits. By the Author of 'The Initials.'
Anthony Trollope's The Three Clerks.
Four Shillings.
Dr. M'Causland's Sermons in Stones; or, Scripture confirmed by
Geology.
Lady Chatterton's Translations from Plato.
Julia Kavanagh's Madeline, a Tale of Auvergne. Gilt edges.
Five Shillings.
The Ingoldsby Legends; or, Mirth and Marvels. 58th Thousand.
Francatelli's Cook's Guide. 100 Recipes and 40 Woodcuts. 15th
Thousand.
Bentley Ballads. The best Ballads and Songs from Bentley's
Miscellany. 5th Thousand.
Lord Dundonald's Autobiography, with Portrait. 6th Thousand.
Anecdotes of Animals. A Boy's Book, with eight spirited
Illustrations by Wolff. Handsomely bound, with gilt edges.
Ellet's Lives of Women Artists of all Ages and Countries. A Girl's
Book. Handsomely bound, gilt edges.
Mrs. Ellis' Mothers of Great Men.
Hayes' Arctic Boat Voyage. Beautifully bound.
Lamartine's Celebrated Characters. Nelson, Cromwell, Tell, Bossuet,
Milton. &c.
Smith's Anecdotes of the Streets of London, and of their more
Celebrated Residents.
Colonel Graham's History of the Art of War.
Dr. Maginn's Shakespeare Characters, Polonius, Falstaff, Bottom the
Weaver, Macbeth, Hamlet, &c.
Six Shillings.
Ned Locksley. With two Illustrations.
The Last of the Cavaliers. With two Illustrations.
The Initials. With two Illustrations.
Mrs. Wood's East Lynne.
------------The Channings.
------------Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles.
Buckland's Curiosities of Natural History, First Series.
-------------------------------------------Second Series.
Wilkie Collins' Notes taken afoot in Cornwall; or, Rambles beyond
Railways.
Mignet's Life of Mary Queen of Scots. Two Portraits.
Guizot's Life of Oliver Cromwell. Portrait.
James' Naval History of Great Britain. 6 vols. 6_s_. each.
Timbs' Anecdote Lives. With Illustrations. First Series, Statesmen.
-----------------------Second Series, Painters.
-----------------------Third Series, Wits and Humourists.
-----------------------Fourth Series, Wits and Humourists.
Rev. Herman Douglas' Jerusalem the Golden, and the Way to it.
Thiers' History of the Great French Revolution. 5 vols. 6_s_. each,
with 41 exquisite Engravings.
Dr. Stebbing's Lives of the Principal Italian Poets.
THE DANES
Sketched by Themselves.
A SERIES OF POPULAR STORIES BY THE BEST
DANISH AUTHORS,
TRANSLATED BY MRS. BUSHBY.
_IN THREE VOLUMES.--VOL. I_.
LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
1864.
* * * * *
[_The right of Translation is reserved_.]
LONDON: PRINTED BY W. CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET,
AND CHARING CROSS.
Most of the following stories have appeared, from time to time, in the
'New Monthly Magazine,' and a few in other periodicals. They are now
gathered together, and it is hoped that they may convey a favourable
impression of the lighter literature of Denmark,--a country rich in
genius, science, and art.
CONTENTS OF VOL. I.
Cousin Carl.--By Carl Bernhard.
The Doomed House.--By B. S. Ingemann.
The Felon's Reverie.
Morten Lange. A Christmas Story.--By Hans Christian Andersen.
A Tale of Jutland.--By S. S. Blicher.
The Secret Witness.--By B. S. Ingemann.
Agnete and the Merman.--By Jens Baggesen.
A Waking Dream.
The Confessional.--By Christian Winther.
The Ancestress; or, Family Pride.--From the Swedish of the late
Baroness Knorring.
The Man from Paradise.--By Hans Christian Andersen.
THE DANES
Sketched by Themselves.
* * * * *
COUSIN CARL.
FROM THE DANISH OF CARL BERNHARD.
PART I.
When I was a young man about twenty years of age, I was a sad
hair-brained fellow. I lived entirely in the passing hour, the time
gone by was quite forgotten, and about the future I never took the
trouble to think a moment. Inclined to every possible species of
foolish prank, I was always ready to rush headlong into any kind of
frolic--anything that promised fun, even if that were a row; and never
did I let slip the opportunity of amusing myself. I was a living proof
that proverbs are not always infallible; for if 'bought wit is best,'
that is to say, wisdom bought by experience, I must have become wise
long ago; if 'a burned child or a scalded cat dreads the fire,' I was
singed and scalded often enough to have felt some dread; and 'to pay
the piper' had frequently fallen upon me. But I was none the wiser or
more prudent. This preface was necessary in order to introduce the
following episode of my mirth-loving youthful days.
My father thought that the best way of breaking off my intimacy with a
somewhat riotous clique of young men, in whose jovial society I passed
a good deal of my time, was to send me to Hamburg, where I was placed
in the counting-house of a merchant, who was expected to keep a strict
watch over me, on account of his well-known reputation for the most
rigid morality; as if one could not find pleasant society in Hamburg if
one were inclined to be gay! Before fourteen days had elapsed, I had at
least three times outwitted the worthy man's vigilance, and twice out
of these three times had not got home till close upon the dawn of day,
without having been engaged in any fray; a pretty fair evidence that I
sought good company, where the risk of getting a drubbing existed
between the hours of one and three. But fate spread her protecting hand
over me, and at the expiration of a year I returned safe and sound to
Copenhagen, bringing back with me much experience in all manner of
jolly diversions, and no small desire to carry my knowledge of them
into continued practice.
I was of course destined to be bound hand and foot with the
counting-house chains; but before putting them on I obtained leave to
take a month's holiday in the country, and visit my uncles and my aunts
in various parts of Zealand. One fine afternoon in the month of
September, I sought out a common conveyance, such as is used by the
peasantry, to take me the first few miles of my journey; and with my
knapsack in my hand I was standing in the court-yard of the inn ready
to step into the rustic carriage, when a servant entered the court and
asked if there were any opportunity for Kjoege.
'That person standing there is going straight to Kjoege,' said the
ostler of the inn.
The servant touched his hat. 'Here is a letter which it is of great
consequence to my master should reach Kerporal's Inn at ----, where a
private carriage will be waiting for him; he is not able to go where he
is expected, as he has been taken ill. I would give the letter to the
driver, but fear he might lose it.'
'Well, let me have it,' said I. 'I will be your master's messenger.
What is his name?' He mentioned a name quite unknown to me. I pocketed
the letter, and drove off.
My usual good luck did not attend me on this journey. In general I
seldom drove a mile without meeting with some little adventure, if no
better than taking up a passenger on the road, or mystifying some
good-natured countryman, or playing the fool with some coquettish
barmaid; but this time everything seemed bewitched, and I was tired to
death. The Kjoege road is the stupidest of all possible roads--the
wayfarers are too ragged and dirty for anyone to venture to take them
up, the peasantry are deeper than coal-pits in cunning, and the
barmaids are either as ugly as sin or engaged to the tapsters and
cellarmen--in both cases disqualified for the situations they fill. I
was dreadfully _ennuye_, and, as if to add to my despair, one of the
horses became lame, and they proceeded leisurely, step by step, at a
snail's pace.
Whoever has felt as weary of his own company on a journey as I did, if
he will put himself in my place, will not think it strange that I
sometimes got out of the vehicle and walked, sometimes jumped in again,
sometimes sang, sometimes whistled, sometimes thrust my hands into my
pockets playing with everything there, then dragged them out and
buttoned up my coat. But all this impatient rummaging in my pockets did
no good to the stranger's letter, which became so crushed and crumpled
that at last I discovered with some dismay that it looked more like a
scrap of soiled paper than a respectable letter. It was in such a
condition that it would be scarcely possible to deliver it--it was
really almost in tatters. There was nothing to be done but to gain a
knowledge of its contents, and deliver the same verbally to the
coachman. Luckily the person who had sent it did not know who I was.
With the help of a little conjecture, I at length extracted from the
maltreated epistle pretty much what follows:--
'Dear Uncle,--I have duly received your esteemed favour of the 7th
instant, and see by it that my father had informed you of my arrival in
Copenhagen by the steam-boat, and that you are so good as to say you
would send your carriage to meet me on the 11th, about seven o'clock in
the evening, at Kerporal's Inn, in order to convey me from thence to
your house. A severe cold, which I caught on the voyage, obliges me to
keep my room for the present, and to put off my visit to your dear
unknown family for eight days or so. In making this communication I beg
to assure you of my sincere regret at the delay, and to offer my best
compliments to my beautiful cousins.' Then came one or two inflated and
pedantic paragraphs, and the letter was subscribed
'Respectfully yours,
'Carl.'
The short and the long of the matter was that he would come in a week,
being detained by a bad cold. 'Well, these interesting communications
can be made in a few words to the coachman. It is surprising how much
paper people think it necessary to waste when they want to trump up a
reason for not doing anything!' With this sage remark I threw the
letter down on the road, where it must speedily have become utterly
illegible, for--one evil more--a shower came on, and it soon increased
till the rain fell in torrents. Misfortunes, it is said, never come
alone; on the contrary, pieces of good fortune seldom come in pairs.
At length we approached Kerporal's Inn. It was pouring of rain, it was
eight o'clock, and it was already almost dark. A travelling-carriage
was waiting under a shed, and its horses were stamping as if with
impatience at a long detention. The gifts of fortune are surely very
unequally distributed, methought, as I reflected on the solitary
journey before me, and that it was impossible I could reach my uncle's
parsonage until very late at night.
'To whom does that carriage belong?' I asked.
'It belongs to the Justitsraad,[1] at ---- Court,' replied the
coachman. This place was situated about a mile[2] from my uncle's
house.
'Oh! then it is you who are waiting for a gentleman from Copenhagen?'
said I.
'Yes, sir. And since you are the gentleman, we had as well set off as
fast as we can. The horses are baited, and we shall have no better
weather this evening, sir,' said the coachman.
'Done!' thought I. 'This is not such a bad idea. I shall get so far dry
and snugly; I can get out at the gate, or else carry the message
myself. People are so hospitable in the country that they will surely
offer me a night's lodging, and at an early hour to-morrow I shall
proceed on foot to my uncle's house.' So the journey was not to be
ended without an adventure.
It is pleasant to exchange a hard, wet conveyance, little better than a
cart, which goes crawling along, for a comfortable carriage getting
over the ground at a brisk pace; so I yielded to the temptation, and
deposited myself in the latter, whilst I envied the pedant who could
travel in such luxurious ease to beautiful unknown cousins--I who had
neither equipages nor cousins--and he could stay at home to take care
of his cold! _I_ would not have done that in _his_ place. The three
miles[3] were soon got over--in fact, they did not seem more than one
mile to me; for during the two last I was fast asleep, the carriage
having rocked me into slumbers as gently as if it had been a cradle.
Suddenly it stopped, and as suddenly I awoke in a state of utter
unconsciousness as to where I was. In a moment the door was opened,
lights and voices around bewildered me still more, and I was almost
dragged out of the carriage.
'It is he--it is cousin Carl!' was shouted in my ears, and the circle
pressed more closely around me.
I was at ---- Court. I was about to execute my commission in the best
manner I could, and make some apology for having brought the message
myself instead of having delivered it to the coachman, when I spied a
charming-looking little cousin, who thrust her pretty head forward with
evident curiosity. How pretty she was! I could not take my eyes off of
her, and stood staring at her for a moment in silence; but during that
moment's silence I had been kindly welcomed by the family as 'Cousin
Carl'--I who was only his unworthy messenger. Was I not in luck?
The Justitsraad carried me straight to the dining-room, and they sat
down immediately to table, as if their repast had been retarded on my
important account. I know not how I carried off my embarrassment; every
moment my situation was becoming more and more painful; my spirits
sank, and my usual effrontery ... ah! it failed me at the very time
that I needed it most.
We were quite a family party. There were but the uncle; his wife, who
was a pleasant, good-looking, elderly lady, apparently about fifty;
cousin Jette, who was pale and silent, but seemed very interesting;
cousin Hanne, the charming little Venus who had caused my awkward
position; and cousin Thomas, a lanky, overgrown boy, about twelve years
of age, with long arms in jacket-sleeves too short for them. From sheer
flurry I ate as if I had not seen food for a fortnight, and with each
glass I emptied down my throat I started in my own mind one plan after
another to escape from the dilemma into which my thoughtlessness had
plunged me.
'I am very glad to see that you do not make strangers of us, but really
are eating heartily,' said the Justitsraad as he filled my plate for
the fifth time. 'I can't bear to see young men, or anyone, under
restraint in my house; here everyone must do exactly as if he were at
home. I am very glad you are not sitting like a stick, or looking as if
you were afraid of us and of the viands before you. And now let us
drink to your happy return to your native land. I am pleased to see
that you are able now to pledge one in a glass of wine. When you were a
boy, you had every appearance of turning out a regular milksop. But, to
be sure, eleven years make great changes in everybody.'
I drank to the health of my father and mother, then to the welfare of
the whole family, and then a special toast to cousin Jette's health,
which was proposed by her father himself. When we were about to drink
it, he nodded to me with an air of intelligence, as if we were
_d'accord_ with each other; but the pretty cousin scarcely touched the
glass with her lips, and did not vouchsafe me a single glance; it
seemed as if she were far from pleased at the compliment paid her.
Cousin Hanne, who sat near me, filled my glass every time it was empty,
and she had so industriously employed herself in this manner, that my
head was beginning to be a good deal confused.
'And now it is time to go to bed, my children!' said the Justitsraad.
'It is late; to-morrow we will hear all that your cousin has to tell
us.'
I was on the point of requesting a moment's private conversation with
him; but the moment for doing so passed away unseized--in the next it
was no longer possible. The family bade each other good night, a
servant showed me to my room, and I was left to my reflections. The
reflections of a harum-scarum fellow of one-and-twenty! You are right,
dear reader, they certainly were not worth much. Hanne's pretty face
and the Justitsraad's good wine had taken a somewhat potent effect upon
my brain; I hastened to seek repose, and, like the Theban tyrant,
deferred grave business till the morrow.
But I could not fall asleep, for conscience plagued me; it is its
custom to wake up when everybody is sleeping, and without the least
mercy it compelled me to listen to its lectures. It became so
importunate that it drove me out of bed, and induced me to admit that
it would be better to jump out of the window, and carry my baggage on
my shoulders to my uncle's parsonage, than to be treated to-morrow as
an impudent puppy--_that_ I should not so much mind--but also as a
scamp of an impostor who had palmed himself upon them for the sake of
obtaining a drive and a good supper gratis--_that_ I should mind a
great deal, for it would touch my honour. It is thus one reasons at
twenty-one.
It rained no longer, but it was as dark as pitch. Darkness would favour
my intention; but how was I to find my way in a place utterly unknown
to me? I determined to keep awake till the dawn of day, then take
myself off, and leave the family to make inquiries about the cousin,
until the real one thought fit to recover from his cold. But that
little Hanne's charming face, was I never to behold it again? Well, it
was very foolish to have come there, but after all, it would be still
more foolish to remain.
I left a little piece of my window open, and sat down near it in order
to watch for the first streaks of daylight. I had, however, a long time
to wait, for it was just half-past twelve o'clock. As I sat there,
fretting at myself for my folly, I heard something or some one,
stirring beneath the window, and a moment afterwards among the branches
of a tree close by. It was some person climbing the tree, but his visit
was not intended for me, for he crept up much higher, and appeared to
have mounted to a level with an upper window, as one was opened very
gently and cautiously. Ah! an assignation! a secret appointment!
It is really an advantage to have a tender conscience; without that I
should have been fast asleep, and should never have known what was
going on so near me. But who could it be? Could cousin Thomas, though
only twelve years of age, be making love to one of the housemaids? Let
us listen.
'For God's sake make no noise!' said a whispering voice at the window
above mine. 'He has arrived; he occupies the room just below, and he
can hardly be asleep yet.'
'The light has been extinguished for at least half an hour,' replied
the voice in the tree. 'Such an ape has nothing to wake or watch for.'
An ape, forsooth! as if I were not quite as wide awake as himself.
'Dear Gustav, think of my distress,' continued the voice at the window;
'my father drank my health at table, and nodded to him in such a
significant manner! Oh, how I hate that man! Tomorrow, perhaps, he will
begin to treat me as his betrothed; my father will give him every
opportunity, and he will take upon himself to be intimate, and to make
me presents. Oh! how unhappy I am!'
'You see, dearest Jette, this is the consequence of our silence; if we
had spoken to him before the accursed cousin came here, perhaps your
father might have been persuaded to have given up this absurd childish
betrothal.'
'No--no; he would never have done that,' replied Jette; 'he is too much
attached to his brother; and he will do everything in his power to have
the agreement fulfilled, which eleven years ago they entered into with
each other at their children's expense.'
'Why did not that man break his neck on the way! Such fellows can
travel round the whole world without the slightest accident ever
happening to them,' said Gustav. 'But he may, perhaps, repent coming
here; I shall pick a quarrel with him, I will call him out, he shall
fight with me, and either he or I shall be put out of the way.'
'May God protect you, my dearest Gustav!' exclaimed my cousin. 'But how
can you have the heart to frighten me with such threats? Am I not
wretched enough? Would you increase the burden that is weighing me down
to the grave? I see nothing before me but misery and despair; no
comfort--no escape.' Poor Jette was weeping; I could hear how she
sobbed in her woe. I now perceived why the poor girl had been so pale
and distant--I was betrothed to her.
'Forgive me, dearest girl! I hardly know what I am saying; but take
comfort, do not weep so bitterly. Heaven will not desert us, and we
shall find some means of softening your father; besides, no rational
man would wish to obtain a wife upon compulsion. If he has the least
pride or spirit, he will himself draw back.'
'Ah, Gustav! if there were any chance of his drawing back, he would not
have come here. His father wrote that he was coming expressly to claim
his--his promised rights; and that--and that we should learn to know
each other before the wedding. We had been betrothed for eleven years,
he wrote, and it was time that ... No! I cannot think of it without
despair.'
'What sort of looking person is he? Is he handsome? Whom does he
resemble?'
'He is not in the least like what he was as a boy, he is very much
changed; he has improved very much in looks, and, indeed, may be called
handsome now.'
'That is a girl with a good taste,' thought I; 'I wish I could help her
out of her troubles.'
'Handsome!--I congratulate you, Miss Jette--handsome people generally
make a favourable impression, and by degrees one becomes quite
reconciled to them, and pleased with them--don't you think so?'
The lover grasped the branch nearest him so roughly in his anger, that
he made the whole tree shake.
'Gustav! are you in earnest?' exclaimed Jette, in a tone of voice that
would have gone to the heart of a stone, if stones had hearts.
'Dearest, dearest Jette! Sweet, patient angel!' He stretched himself so
far out from the tree that I think he must have reached her hand and
kissed it.
'Indeed, you have no reason to be jealous of him,' said Jette, 'for one
quite forgets his being handsome, when one observes how awkward he is.
He does not seem to be at all accustomed to society; he eats like a
shark, and you should have seen how he drank. Hanne amused herself in
filling his glass, and I do believe that for his own share alone he
emptied two bottles of wine. And he never uttered a single word. Oh! he
is my horror--that man; but my father seems pleased with him, and
praised him after he had left the room. Dear Gustav! how unfortunate we
are!'
Should I allow these imputations to rest upon me? A blockhead--a
glutton--and a drunkard! And cousin Hanne had been making a fool of me,
forsooth!--the little jade, with her pretty face. I was certainly in a
pleasant position.
'I will speak to your father to-morrow,' said Gustav, after a little
consideration. 'He is very fond of you, he will not be deaf to our
prayers, or expect impossibilities from you. What can he bring forward
against me? I shall soon be in a position to maintain a wife, my family
are quite on an equality with his own, my father is not poor, and my
situation in life is now, and always will be, such, that I can satisfy
any inquiry he can make into it. Deny then no longer your consent,
dearest Jette; let us no longer conceal our attachment from him, and
depend on it all will go well.'
'Ah, Gustav! you do not know my father. He will positively insist that
I shall fulfil this engagement. Vows are sacred in his eyes, and he
himself has never broken his word. When I gave that promise I was but a
child, and I wore the plain gold ring without ever reflecting that it
was a link of that never-to-be-broken chain which was to bind me to a
life of misery. Oh, God, have mercy upon me!'
'Doubt not _His_ help, my beloved girl! He will spread His protecting
hand over us, even if all else shall fail us.'
The sorrowing lovers whispered then so softly that I could not overhear
what further they said, but I concluded they were comforting each
other. The first streak of day cast a pale line of light across the
tops of the trees and the roofs of the outhouses near. It was almost
time for me to commence _my_ flight, but everything must be quiet
first. I gathered together my effects with as little noise as possible.
The conversation on the outside recommenced, and I approached the
window impatiently.
'How long is he going to stay here?' asked Gustav.
'I do not know; perhaps only a few days. Alas! my only hope is in him,'
replied Jette. To-morrow I shall have a private conversation with him,
which, of course, will lead to an explanation. I will make an
appointment with him in the garden,--if you will promise me not to be
jealous,' added Jette, with a degree of archness in her tone which
enchanted me.
'It is hard that my rival is to be my sheet anchor,' said Gustav; 'but,
since it must be so, speak to him, dearest. However, if that fails,
then, my sweet girl, then ...'
'Then I promise you ... But what noise is that? I thought I heard some
one stirring. For God's sake go! Let no one see you here!'
'To-morrow night, then, at one o'clock. Farewell, dear Jette.'
Then came a kiss. Was it on the hand or the lips?
'Take care how you get down. To-morrow night. Adieu till then!'
The faithful knight-errant swung himself from branch to branch with an
adroitness which proved that he was experienced in that mode of
descent. As soon as he set foot on the ground the window above was
closed.
It was now my turn to get into the trees. Gustav had taught me that
trick. I wondered what sort of a looking fellow he was. Poor Jette--to
have chosen for herself, and yet to be condemned to be sacrificed to a
man who could begin a letter about his intended bride with, 'I have
duly received your esteemed favour of the 5th instant,' and who could
absent himself from such a charming girl, merely because he had a
slight cold! Well! it is a wretched world, this, in which we live. It
was becoming more and more light. To-day she wished to have a private
conversation with me--her only hope was in me; there was to be an
explanation between us, an assignation in the garden. Who the deuce
could run away from all this? But.... Well! nobody knew me--the real
cousin was not coming for a week ... surely I might stay _one_ day on
the strength of personifying him? I am a fatalist; destiny has sent me,
and it will aid me.... I will not forsake Jette ... and I will revenge
myself upon that little Mademoiselle Hanne, who wanted to drink me
under the table, and I will show the whole accomplished family that I
have studied good manners in Hamburg, and am neither a blockhead, a
glutton, nor a drunkard. It is a matter that touches my honour; I will
stay!... But ... suppose they take it into their heads to question me?
Humph! If the worst comes to the worst, I can but stuff a little linen
into my great-coat pocket, make a pretext to get outside the gate, and
take to flight at once. In the meantime, I will make some inquiries
about the neighbourhood and the roads, for at present I have not the
most remote idea whether I ought to turn to the right hand or the left.
And to-morrow night--good-by to this darling family, with many thanks
for their kind welcome. Whilst they are all sleeping, or keeping
nocturnal assignations, I shall vanish without leaving the slightest
trace behind. It will give them something to talk of till Christmas.
Whilst this monologue was in progress of utterance, I was busily
undressing myself. I jumped into bed, and soon slept as soundly as if I
had a lawful right to be there, and were the dreaded cousin himself.
But when I was summoned to breakfast next morning I was in a very
different frame of mind. I had slept off the effects of the wine, sober
reason had resumed her sway, fear followed at my heels like a bad
spirit; and I would assuredly have made my escape if the well-dressed
valet-de-chambre had left me a moment to myself. I was compelled to
resign myself to my fate, and allow myself to be marshalled to the
breakfast-parlour; but as I approached the scene of my threatened
exposure, despair restored my courage, I remembered that it was
incumbent on me to wipe out the disgrace of the preceding evening, and
I found my habitual impudence and lightness of heart upon the very
threshold of the door.
I went up to them all, and shook hands with them, and as I now knew
that I was engaged to Jette, I kissed her hand with all possible
amorous gallantry. The poor girl looked as if she could have sunk into
the earth, and I coloured up to my temples, for I just recollected that
I had on no betrothal ring. Jette wore the plain gold ring I had heard
her mention, but it was almost hidden by another ring, with a simple
enamelled 'Forget-me-not.' Might not _that_ have been a gift from the
unknown Gustav?
'How are you this morning, my dear?' said the Justitsraad. 'Jette has
not been very well lately,' he added; 'she looks poorly, and has no
appetite. It must be that abominable _nervousness_, of which young
ladies now-a-days are always complaining.'
Jette assured him that she felt quite well. I doubted if her mother or
her sister were so much in her confidence as I was at that moment; but
neither of them had been sitting at an open window between twelve
o'clock at night and three o'clock in the morning.
At first all went on smoothly, for the conversation was on the safe
subjects of wind and weather; but a change for the worst was coming.
'Now, nephew, tell us something about the old people yonder. How is my
brother looking?'
'Extremely well, uncle. He is looking quite fresh.'
'But the gout--the gout in his feet? that sticks to him yet--and it is
not the most pleasant of companions.'
'Oh, yes--the gout! But he is accustomed to that.'
'And your mother?'
'She is also well, only she is getting older every day.'
'Ah! that is what we are all doing. And aunt Abelone? How goes it with
her?'
'She is very well too.'
'What! _very well_--with her broken leg! Why, you must be joking?'
'Oh dear, no! I ... I only meant to say as well ... as well as anyone
can be with a broken leg,' I stammered out. In truth, I knew nothing
about, and cared as little for, Abelone's mishap.
'Listen to that madcap. He speaks of a broken leg as if it were
absolutely a trifling matter.'
The danger was over for a moment, but another attack soon followed. I
had scarcely swallowed a cup of tea, before my _soi-disant_ uncle
demanded from me a particular account of the new system of agriculture
my father had introduced on his property--I, who did not even know
where that property lay! But this time his wife came to the rescue, for
she declared that we could discuss systems of husbandry when we were
strolling in the fields together, or out hunting, and that she and her
daughters did not take much interest in agricultural questions.
'Well, we will talk of this another time,' said the Justitsraad. 'But
tell us at present something of your travels. Women-folk are always
pleased to hear adventures of travellers. You have visited Paris,
Berlin, Vienna, and many other places. A man who has travelled so much
might talk for a whole month without being at a loss for a subject.'
Very well did I know that I had never beheld a single building either
in Paris or Berlin, except in engravings. What was I to say? I busied
myself in getting up a good tale.
'Upon my word, nephew, I should not suspect you of being very bashful;
but if you don't like to speak of your travels, let them alone, my
boy,--everybody shall do as he likes in my house. Many years ago, I
remember, I went to Hamburg, and when I came home I almost tired
them all out by describing what I had seen. But I suppose it is
old-fashioned now to make any comments on what one has witnessed
abroad.'
Here was a piece of good luck. I knew Hamburg as well as my own
pockets, and now I was like my uncle after _his_ return. There was no
end to my descriptions and anecdotes. The old man seemed to take real
delight in hearing about all the alterations which had been made in the
old town since the days of his youth, inquiring often for places which
no longer exist. I endeavoured to make my discourse as amusing as
possible. Cousin Thomas rested his elbows on the table, listened with
open mouth, and laughed outright several times; my aunt often let her
knitting-needle fall, to look at the pencil sketches with which I was
illustrating my descriptions; cousin Jette looked less sourly at me
than before; and Hanne--the pretty, coquettish, little Hanne--for whose
sake I was sitting apparently so much at my ease among them, was
unwearied in her queries about the Hamburg ladies, fashions, and
theatres. Happily these had been the objects of my most intense study.
'I perceive now, that when once his tongue is set a-going, he has
plenty to say,' remarked my worthy uncle. 'How long were you in
Berlin?'
'Nay; stop, uncle! we are at Hamburg just now. I have still a great
deal to tell about that city. Everything should be arranged in due
order. Today I will confine myself to Hamburg; to-morrow we shall
travel to Berlin.' 'Catch me here tomorrow,' thought I to myself; 'if I
only can get through to-day, I will take French leave before we come to
Berlin.'
'Come! since you give such a good reason, we will let you off Berlin
just now. I am a lover of order myself, and here everything goes by
clockwork. During the first part of the morning every one must look out
for himself; at twelve we meet for luncheon--at three o'clock we dine.
Amuse yourself in the mean time as well as you can; you will find
plenty of books in the library--yonder hang fire-arms--and in the
stables there are horses at your service; do exactly as if you were at
home, and take care of yourself.'
'I will take a turn in the garden,' said I, with a glance at Jette--one
of those looks _d'intelligence_ from which I expected great things; but
she took no notice of it, and I was under the necessity of remarking,
that being a stranger I did not know the way. But even this opening for
a _tete-a-tete_ she allowed to pass, and I could not imagine how she
intended to bring about our secret conference.
'A stranger!' cried my uncle. 'But true, in eleven years one forgets a
great deal. Let me see--how old were you then? you are three-and-twenty
now ... twelve years of age you were; who could have guessed then that
you would have become such a free-and-easy, off-hand sort of a fellow?
Well, let him be shown the grounds, children. Thomas must go to his
studies; my wife has her household matters to attend to; Jette, you
must ...'
'I really am not able, my dear father--I have a dreadful headache,'
said the poor timid girl. And she looked as if she spoke nothing but
the truth,--she was so pale, and her eyes were so red.
'A woman's malady,' said her father, looking vexed; 'it is, of course,
incumbent on you to ... Well; all that will vanish when you are better
acquainted. _We_ know what these qualms mean,' he added, turning
towards me. I nodded, as if I would have said--_Sat sapienti_. 'Have
you also got a headache, Hanne? Are you also suffering from
nervousness? or can you stand the fresh morning air, my girl?' he
asked. I looked eagerly at the little gipsy.
'Oh! I can endure the fresh morning air very well,' she replied.
'Then take charge of your cousin Carl, and show him round the garden
and the shrubberies; and don't forget the pretty view from the rising
ground where the swing is.'
The Justitsraad held out his hand to me, and I pressed it with all the
warmth of sincere gratitude.
'Come, cousin,' said Hanne. 'Shall we call each other by our first
names, or not? But we can settle that as we go along.'
'For Heaven's sake, let us call each other by our baptismal names, else
we should not seem like cousins. Don't you think so, uncle?'
'You are of my own people, my boy. Always be merry and frank--that is
my motto. I am right glad that you have not adopted the stiff German
manners. Your father was always very grave; but you have rubbed off all
that solemnity abroad, I am happy to see.'
In my delight at the promised stroll with Hanne, I forgot that it was
my duty to kiss Jette's hand on leaving her. Just as I had reached the
door I suddenly remembered it; and rushing back, I went through the
salutation in the speediest manner possible, expressing at the same
time my hope to find her better on my return. They all laughed, and
even Jette could not help smiling,--there was something so comical in
my hurried return, and equally hurried performance of the ceremony
etiquette demanded.
Was I not right in calling myself a madcap? Here was I actually walking
with the charming little Hanne all over the grounds! I--her pretended
cousin; I--who ought to have been sent to the House of Correction, for
having, under another man's name, presumed to thrust myself into the
midst of a respectable family; I--who had committed, a positive
depredation, and broken the sacred privacy of a seal;--here was I
wandering about arm-in-arm with the Justitraad's daughter at ----
Court, the captivating, innocent, beautiful little Hanne; I--who
deserved to be driven away with all the dogs on the estate at my heels!
Well! goodness and justice do not always carry the day in this world!