DEAR M.,--This château is a fine old castle, with rounded towers and
mysterious passages, and has a village tucked on to it. The family
consists of the Countess, the Count, and three children, a tutor, a
governess, and everything which belongs to the old families and their
traditions. The mysterious passages possessed no ghosts, for which I was
sorry, though my maid (a timid and naïve old German maiden) thought that
she heard "things" at night when she came up the dark, winding stone
staircase which led to my room.
Life passed quietly at Fürstenberg. Countess Westphal and I amused
ourselves with music and embroidery and listening to the Count's report of
his hunting expeditions.
One day, in a spasm of energy, she proposed to take me to see a friend of
hers, Countess B----, who, she said, lived quite near. We would spend the
night, returning the next day. She thought it would be a very pleasant and
entertaining little excursion for us.
She telegraphed to Countess B---- that we were coming without maids, and
with only necessary baggage; and my maid immediately went to work to pack
what she considered necessary for this visit. She put a dinner-dress, with
high and low waists, as the occasion might require, an extra day-dress,
and all kinds of accessories, filling a good-sized trunk.
We started early the next morning. Countess Westphal was full of happy
expectations; so was I. We were four hours on the way before we reached
our destination; but Countess Westphal cheerfully remarked that time was
of no consequence.
On our arrival at the forlorn little station I looked in vain for the
lordly chariot I thought would be waiting for us. Countess Westphal seemed
astonished also, but with her usual good-nature accounted for the absence
of the chariot by saying that her friend could not possibly have received
the telegram. We lingered about, hoping that some vehicle would appear;
but as none did so, Countess Westphal started off to find one, and she
finally succeeded in tempting a man, for the vast sum of four marks, to
drive us to the _schloss_.
After the coachman had gathered the reins off the back of the old, rickety
horse, I leaned back in my seat and pictured to myself what this beautiful
_schloss_ we were going to would be like.
Of course, it would have a moat around it (all old castles do); it would
have all the modern comforts combined with the traditions of past glories;
it would have avenues of grand old trees and marble statues, and terraces
leading into Italian gardens, and so forth. In fact, my imagination got so
riotous that I forgot to look at the treeless, muddy roads, and I never
noticed the wrenching of the ancient landau in which we were.
As we were jolted over the desolate landscape, Countess Westphal tried to
tell me the family history of the B----s, but I only gathered bits of it
here and there; such as that he was the fourth son of a very distinguished
father and mother, and had no prospect worth speaking of, except the
prospect of the dreary place we were careering over; that they never left
their native heath and had no children, and that they lived on their
estate (being the only thing they had to live on), and so forth and so
forth, all of which went in at the ear next the Countess and went out at
the ear next the road.
Finally we spied the _schloss._ It had been a convent in some former
century, and still had iron bars on the windows. We drove through a muddy
lane, passing a sort of barn with grated loopholes, and stopped before a
courtyard filled with chickens and geese; on the left was a pigsty,
smelling not at all like Westphalian hams, and on the other side a cow-
stable. In front was the _schloss_ and the lady of the manor, the
honorable Countess herself, on the steps, quite by chance, so it seemed.
She led us proudly into the salon. A large bunch of keys hung at her
girdle. I wondered why she needed so many! After the coal-bin, wine-vault,
and sugar-bowl, and linen-closet had been locked up, what more did she
need to lock up? There was no mention that the telegram had been received.
Strange!
Count B---- was not there, "but would be coming soon." I felt that I could
wait. The salon was of the kind that one often sees in houses where the
mistress, having no children and plenty of time, embroiders things. Every
possible object had a coat of arms and huge crowns embroidered on it, so
that you could never forget that you were in the house of ancient
nobility, which had the right to impose its crowns on you. All the chairs,
tables, sideboards, and things on the walls were made out of the horns of
stags and other animals the Count had shot. Sometimes the chairs were
covered with the skin of the same, minus the hair, which was missing and
moth-eaten in spots.
I was taken up-stairs to my bedroom, and I was thankful to see that the
horns and crowns had nearly given out before they finished furnishing the
first story, and that I had an ordinary middle-class chair to sit on.
There were many pictures of Madonnas and saints, from which I inferred
that our hosts were Catholics, and a _prie-dieu_, which, strange to say,
was made of horns; and the mat in front of my bed was a blaze of the
united coats of arms and _two_ crowns! So she was a Countess born, which
accounted for the doubleness.
We were obliged to make _le tour du propriétaire_, and, of course, as
there was no other place to take us to, we went to the stables. There we
admired the two cows (Stella and Bella) with horns. They had their names
painted in blue and white over their respective heads, but they had no
crowns.
Then the Count appeared in very nice clothes. I fancy, while we had been
admiring Stella and Bella, he had been changing his boots. Owing to these
fresh boots we were spared the pigsties. On our return to the house
Countess B---- said, "You know, we don't dress for dinner." I thought with
dismay of my trunk laden with all its superfluous contents, and what a
bore the bringing of it had been, and the opinion my maid would pass on
our noble hosts, who "don't dress for dinner," when she unpacked the
undisturbed finery which she had thought indispensable.
After dinner the conversation was chiefly pastoral, of the kind I do not
join in because I hate it. How many chickens had died, how Bella and
Stella had borne last winter's cold, how many sacks of potatoes had been
spoiled, etc. My Countess enjoyed it immensely, and sat on a horny chair
and sympathized. Our host took pity on me and taught me a patience. I had
known it all my life as "the idiot's delight," but I pretended I had never
heard of it before, and he had the satisfaction of thinking he was
entertaining me--which he wasn't! On the contrary, Job's patience never
could have equaled this one; the Count talked French fluently. The dinner
was not good, nor was it frugal.