were now two places where the treasure was not. But there is much that
is illogical in the nature of men. Even the Doctor inclined now to the
Professor's opinion, that the manuscript was perhaps not concealed in
the house; nay, that it might even be at a distance from the place.
Such was the state of the matter when the Sovereign's packet arrived.
The friends were occupied many hours with the trunks, and examined the
records carefully. They found much that would be valuable for the
history of the district, but nothing that led to the manuscript. At
last, the Professor raised from the bottom of one of the trunks a thick
bundle of reports, on sheets sewed together, which had been sent by the
officials of Bielstein to the Government. Among them was the writing of
a deputy-bailiff of the last century, in which he notified that he was
hastening, in those times of suspense and danger, commanded by high
authority, to convey to the royal country residence, Solitude, the
chestful of hunting implements and old books which had up to that time
been in his custody.
The writer of the letter had undoubtedly not foreseen what an
excitement his faded scroll would produce in a later generation.
"This is the student's chest," cried the Professor, the color rising to
his cheeks, while he held out the document to his friend.
"Remarkable!" said the Doctor. "It is impossible that this coincidence
can be accidental."
"The student's chest was no will o' the wisp," cried the Professor to
his wife, in her room; "here is the confirmation."
"Where is the chest?" inquired Ilse, skeptically.
"That is just what we do not know," replied the Professor, laughing.
"Here is a new scent, indistinct, and in a new direction; but it may
lead shortly to the vanished parchment." The friends hastened back
eagerly to the bundle of records. "Old books!" exclaimed the Doctor;
"the house was a hunting castle; a generation before this letter was
written, the estate came first into the possession of this princely
family; it is not probable that they themselves, in their short hunting
visits, should have collected books there."
"Old books!" exclaimed also the Professor; "it is possible that hunting
journals and accounts may be meant; but it is not impossible that the
chest may also contain some few things of the property of the
monastery. Ilse, where is the old castle belonging to your Sovereign
called Solitude?"
Ilse knew nothing of such a castle.
"It is a fortunate coincidence that the Sovereign himself may give us
an opportunity of obtaining more accurate information."
"Ah, you poor men!" said Ilse, through the door, pityingly. "Now you
are far worse than before; as long as the treasure was still supposed
to be in our house, my father at least could keep a good look out; but
now, it is in a chest far away in the wide world, and no one knows
anything even of the house to which it may have been carried."
The friends laughed again. "Your father's house is not on that account
less under suspicion," said her husband, consolingly.
The Professor sent back the contents of the chest to the Royal Council,
expressed in his letter his warm thanks to the Sovereign, and mentioned
that an uncertain trace made him very desirous of obtaining permission
to make personal investigations.
The letter had the desired result for both parties. The Sovereign had
the satisfaction, which is pleasing to earthly masters, of appearing to
confer a favor while he was seeking one.
The Professor was joyfully surprised when he received from the Council
in the name of the Sovereign a letter promising to promote his
investigations in every way, and making the following proposal: The
Sovereign wished his cabinet of antiquities to be examined by a
scientific authority, and there was no one to whom he would more
willingly trust this task than to the Professor. He knew well how
valuable to others was the work of so learned a man, but he hoped that
his collection might appear of sufficient importance to him to spend a
few weeks upon it.
At the same time the Chamberlain wrote, by desire of his gracious
master, that the Sovereign would be delighted if the Professor would
accept the hospitality of the Palace during the time of his stay. A
garden pavilion, which was a pleasant spring-residence, would be at his
disposition. The dwelling was large enough to receive his family also,
and he was commanded to suggest that there would be plenty of room if
the Professor would bring his wife and servants, as the Sovereign did
not wish that the learned man should be deprived of his domestic
comforts during his stay. The beginning of the spring would be the best
time for both parties; and the Chamberlain would be delighted to do the
honors of the capital to his countrywoman.
The Professor hastened with flying steps to his wife, and laid the
letter in her lap. "Here, read what endangers our journey into foreign
lands. It will engross the greatest part of our traveling time. But I
must accept the invitation; for any prospect, even the most distant, of
obtaining the manuscript compels me to stake much that a man will only
sacrifice for a great hope. Will you accompany me on this chase? You
see, the kind people have thought of everything."
"I a guest of our Sovereign!" exclaimed Ilse, reading the letter.
"Never should I have dreamt of such an honor. What will my father say
of it! It is a very honorable invitation for you," she continued,
seriously; "and you must at all events accept it. As for me, I think it
may be best for me to remain here."
"Why should we be separated for weeks?--it would be the first time."
"Send me to my father meanwhile."
"Does not that come to the same thing?" asked the Professor.
"What shall I do among these strangers?" continued Ilse, anxiously.
"Nonsense," replied the Professor. "Have you any reason to give?" and
he looked at her, discomposed.
"I cannot say that I have," replied Ilse.
"Then decide at once, and come. We should probably feel more free if we
could live as we liked; but I should not wish to reside for weeks at a
hotel in a foreign city; and, from another point of view, this
reception will save both parties the difficulty of offering and
refusing compensation. We shall remain there as long as is
indispensably necessary; then we shall go south, as far as we can. It
is, after all, only putting off the journey a few weeks."
When the Professor's letter of acceptance arrived, the Chamberlain
informed the Sovereign of it in presence of the Marshal: "See to it
that the pavilion is arranged as comfortably as possible. Dinner will
be served at the pavilion at whatever hour the Professor wishes."
"And what position does your Highness intend the strangers shall occupy
at Court?" inquired the Marshal.
"That is understood," said the Sovereign; "he has the privilege of a
stranger, and will occasionally be invited to small dinners."
"But the Professor's wife?" asked the Marshal.
"Ah!" said the Sovereign, "the wife. It is true, she comes with him."
"Then," continued the Marshal, "there is to be dinner for two at the
pavilion; apartments for two, and a room for a lackey without livery."
"That is enough," said the Sovereign; "for the rest, we shall see. If
the Professor's wife visits our ladies, I assume they will return the
civility. We will leave the rest to the Princess."
"What is the history of these strangers?" asked the Marshal of the
Chamberlain. "You know the people."
"As one knows people in a strange city," replied the Chamberlain.
"But you arranged their coming?"
"I only wrote according to the Sovereign's orders. The Professor is a
learned man of reputation, and a thorough gentleman."
"But what has his wife to do here."
The Chamberlain shrugged his shoulders. "He could not be got without
his wife," he replied, cautiously.
"Yet the Sovereign made a point of her coming."
"Did that strike you?" asked the Chamberlain. "I, for my part, did not
remark it. He made it appear as if it were a matter of indifference to
him; and, furthermore, she is a country-woman of his."
"You know that the Sovereign would be the last to infringe the rules of
the Court. There is no reason for anxiety."
"At all events, the Princess must maintain her position. I hear this
Professor's wife is considered a beauty?"
"I believe she is also a woman of high character," replied the
Chamberlain.
The Professor received the desired permission. Ilse made her
preparations for the journey with a solemn seriousness which struck all
around her. She was now to approach the presence of her Sovereign, whom
she had regarded from a distance with shy respect. It made her heart
heavy to think that the son had never spoken of his father, and that
she knew nothing of her illustrious master but his countenance and
manner. She asked herself, anxiously: "How will he treat Felix and me?"
Whilst Felix was collecting all the books and documents which were
indispensable for the journey, the Doctor was standing sorrowfully in
his friend's room. He was satisfied that the Professor could not
withdraw from the duty of seeking for the manuscript; and yet his
invitation to Court did not please him. The sudden breaking of their
tranquil life disturbed him, and he sometimes looked anxiously at Ilse.
Laura sat, the last evening, near Ilse, leaning on her shoulder,
weeping. "It appears to me," said the latter, "that something
portentous lies in my path, and I go in fear. But I leave you without
anxiety for your future, although you have sometimes made me uneasy,
you stubborn little puss; for I know there is one who will always be
your best adviser, even though you should seldom see each other."
"I lose him when I lose you," cried Laura, in tears. "All vanishes that
has been the happiness of my life. In the little garden which I have
secretly laid out for myself, the blossoms are torn up by the roots,
the bitter trial of deprivation has come to me also; and poor Fritz,
who already was practicing resignation, will now be quite lost in his
hermitage."
Even Gabriel, who was to accompany the travelers to the capital and
await their return home from abroad at the house of Ilse's father, was
excited during this period, and often disappeared into the house of Mr.
Hahn when it became dark. The last day he brought home from the market
a beautiful bird of uncommon appearance, with colored feathers, pasted
on a sheet, with the inscription: "Peacock from Madagascar." Gabriel
wrote, in addition, in clear, stiff characters: "Faithful unto death."
This he took in the evening to the enemy's house. A whispering might be
heard there, and a pocket-handkerchief be seen, which wiped the tears
from sorrowful eyes.
"No allusion is meant to the name of this family," said Gabriel,
holding the bird once more in the moonlight, the beams of which fell
through the staircase window upon two sorrowful faces; "but it occurred
to me as a remembrance. When you look at it think of me, and the words
I have written on it. We must part, but it is hard to do so." The
honest fellow pulled out his pocket-handkerchief.
Dorchen took it from him; she had forgotten her own, and wiped her eyes
with it.
"It is not for long," said Gabriel, consolingly, in spite of his own
sorrow. "Paste the bird on the cover of your trunk, and when you open
it and take out a good dress, think of me."
"Always," cried Dorchen, weeping. "I do not need that."
"When I return, Dorchen, we will talk further of what is to become of
us, and I hope all will go well. The handkerchief which has received
your tears shall be a remembrance for me."
"Leave it to me," said Dorchen, sobbing. "I must tell you I have bought
wool, and will embroider you a wallet. This you shall carry about you,
and when I write, put my letters in it."
Gabriel looked happy, in spite of his sorrow; and the moon glanced
jeeringly down on the kisses and vows which were exchanged.
_CHAPTER XXVII_.
THE SOVEREIGN.
The Hereditary Prince was walking with the Chamberlain in the gardens
which surrounded the royal castle on three sides. He looked
indifferently on the splendid coloring of the early flowers and the
fresh green of the trees; to-day he was more silent than usual; whilst
the birds piped to him from the branches, and the spring breeze wafted
fragrance from the tops of the trees, he played with his eye-glass.
"What bird is that singing?" he asked, at last, awakening from his
apathy.
The Chamberlain replied, "It is a thrush."
The Prince examined the bird with his glasses, and then asked,
carelessly, "What are those people ahead of us carrying?"
"Chairs for the pavilion," answered the Chamberlain; "it is being
arranged for Professor Werner. The house is seldom open now; formerly
his Highness, the Sovereign, used to live there occasionally."
"I do not remember ever having been in it for a very long time."
"Would your Highness like to see the rooms?"
"We can pass that way."
The Chamberlain turned towards the pavilion; the Marshal was standing
at the door; he had come to see that everything was in order. The
Hereditary Prince greeted him, cast a cursory glance at the house, and
was inclined to pass on. It was a small grey-stone structure, in old
fashioned style; there were shell-shaped arabesques round the doors and
windows, and little dropsical angels supported heavy garlands of stone
flowers with lines which appeared to have been cut out of elephant's
hide; the angels themselves looked as if they had just crept out of a
dirty swamp and been dried in the sun. The dark building stood amid the
fresh verdure like a large chest, in which all the withered flowers
that the garden had ever borne, and all the moss which the gardener had
ever scraped from the trees, seemed, to have been kept for later
generations.
"It is an uninviting looking place," said the Prince.
"It is the gloomy appearance that has always pleased his Sovereign
Highness so much," replied the Marshal. "Will not your Highness examine
the interior?"
The Prince passed slowly up the steps and through the apartments. The
musty smell of the long-closed rooms had not been removed by the
pastiles that had been burnt in them; logs were blazing in all the
fireplaces, but the warmth which they spread still struggled with the
damp air. The arrangement of the rooms was throughout orderly and
complete. There were heavy _portieres_, curtains with large tassels,
and fantastic furniture with much gilding, and white covers for the
preservation of the silk, mirrors with broad fantastic frames, round
the chimney-piece garlands carved in grey marble, and upon it wreathed
vases and little figures of painted porcelain. In the boudoir, on a
marble console, there was a large clock under a glass bell; a nude
gilded nymph poured water over the dial from her urn which was turned
to gilded ice. Everything was richly adorned; but the whole
arrangement, furniture, porcelain, and walls, looked as if no eye had
ever rested on them with pleasure, nor careful housewife rejoiced in
their possession. There were remarkable things from every part of the
world; first they had been placed in the large assembly-rooms which
were opened at Court fetes; then they had ceased to be in fashion, and
were moved into side-rooms. It was now their destiny to be handed down
from one generation to another, and counted once a year to see if they
were still there. Thus they passed a never-ending existence--preserved,
but not used; kept, but disregarded.
"It is damp and cold here," said the Prince, looking round upon the
walls, and again hastening into the open air.
"How do the arrangements please your Highness?" asked the Marshal.
"They will do very well," answered the Prince, "except the pictures."
"Some of them certainly are rather improper," acknowledged the Marshal.
"My father would be pleased if you could remove these. When is
Professor Werner expected?"
"This evening," replied the Chamberlain. "Perhaps your Highness would
wish to receive the guest after his arrival, or to pay him a visit
yourself."
"You may ask my father," replied the Prince.
When the Prince went with his companion up the staircase to his own
rooms in the castle, the Chamberlain began:
"The Professor's wife was very much pleased once with the flowers which
your Highness sent her. May I commission the Court gardener to put some
in her room?"
"Do what you think fitting," replied the Prince, coldly.
He entered his apartment, looked behind him to see if he were alone,
and went with rapid steps to the window; from thence he looked over the
level lawn and the blooming rows of trees to the pavilion. He gazed
long through the window, then took a book from the table and seated
himself in the corner of the sofa to read; but he laid the book on the
table again, paced hastily up and down, and looked at his watch.
The Court dinner was over. The ladies cast a half glance behind them to
see if the back-ground was clear for their retiring curtsies. The
gentlemen took their hats under their arms. The Marshal approached the
door, and held his gold-headed stick with graceful deportment--a sure
sign that the royal party was about to break up. The Princess, who was
still in mourning, stopped her brother.
"When do they come? I am so curious," she said, in a low tone.
"They are perhaps already there," answered he, looking down.
"I am going to the theatre to-day for the first time again," continued
the Princess. "Come into my box if you can."
The Prince nodded. Information came to the Marshal, which he conveyed
to the Prince's father. "Your teacher, Professor Werner, is come," said
he, aloud, to his son. "You will undoubtedly wish to pay your
compliments to him." He then bowed to the Court, and the young Princess
followed him out of the room.
The Chamberlain hastened to the pavilion. The Marshal followed
more quietly. A royal equipage had brought the travelers from the
nearest station. They passed rapidly by the trees in the park, the
pleasure-grounds, and the lighted windows of the royal castle. The
pavilion was no longer a shapeless building, as it appeared in the day,
under the glaring sun, to the indifferent eyes of the courtiers. The
moon lighted up the front, and shone with a glimmering halo on the
walls; it threw a silver glitter on the cheeks of the angels, and on
the solid broad leaves of their garlands, and brought out strongly on
the bright surface of the wall the shadows of the projecting cornices.
Wax-lights shone through the open door. Lackeys, in rich liveries, held
heavy candelabra. The steward of the house, a friendly looking
personage, in dress coat and knee-breeches, stood in the hall and
greeted the comers with polite words. Following the lackeys, Ilse
ascended the carpeted steps, on her husband's arm, and when the servant
threw back the _portiere_, and the row of rooms appeared shining with
wax-lights, she could hardly suppress an exclamation of astonishment.
The steward led them through the rooms, explained the disposal of them,
and Ilse perceived, with rapid glance, how stately and comfortable they
all were. She looked with admiration at the abundance of flowers which
were placed in the vases and bowls. She wondered whether her little
Prince had shown this tender attention, but was undeceived when the
official announced that the Chamberlain had sent them. A pretty maid
was introduced, who was to wait upon her exclusively. Gabriel stood in
the ante-room considering where he and his traps would be taken, in
order that the Professor's boots might, in the morning, be no dishonor
to the splendor of the house. At last one of the lackeys showed him his
room, and, like a good comrade, pointed out to him the lamps of a
tavern, which for his leisure hours would be particularly agreeable.
Ilse went through the rooms as if stupefied by their splendor, and
endeavored to open the window to let in some fresh air, for the strong
fragrance of the hyacinths threatened her with headache. Then came the
Chamberlain, behind him the Marshal, who was also an urbane gentleman
of very refined appearance; and both expressed their pleasure at seeing
the Professor and his wife. They offered their services on all
occasions, and pointed out from the windows the position of the
pavilion. Suddenly the lackey threw open the folding-doors, announcing
"His Highness, the Hereditary Prince."
The young gentleman walked slowly into the room. He bowed silently to
Ilse, and gave his hand to the Professor. "My father has commissioned
me to express to you his pleasure that you have fulfilled his wishes;"
and, turning to Ilse, he continued: "I trust that you will find the
dwelling comfortable enough not to regret having left your residence at
home."
Ilse looked with great pleasure at her Prince. He had, it appeared to
her, grown a little. His demeanor was still rather depressed; but he
had color in his cheeks, and it was clear that things were not amiss
with him. The little moustache was stronger and became him well.
She replied, "I scarcely venture to turn round. It is like a fairy
castle. One expects every moment that a spirit will spring from the
wall and inquire whether one wishes to go through the air, or that four
swans will stop at the window with a golden carriage. No chair is
necessary to ascend to it, for the windows come down to the ground. The
Park Street sends its greeting, and I give your Highness heartfelt
thanks for the present which the Chamberlain sent me for the last
Christmas-tree."
The Professor approached the Prince, mentioned to him the names of some
of his colleagues, who had sent to him their kindest remembrances, and
then begged him to express to his royal father his thanks for this
hospitable reception.
Everything seemed to curl in ornamental scrolls. The lamps shone from
the silver chandeliers, the hyacinths sent out sweet fragrance from
every vase, the closed curtains gave the room a comfortable appearance,
and on the frescoed ceiling a flying Cupid was represented holding a
bunch of red poppies over the heads of the guests.
"To-day we will leave you to rest, as you must be tired," said the
Prince, concluding the visit; and the Chamberlain promised to inform
the Professor at an early hour the next morning when the Sovereign
would receive him. Scarcely had the gentleman gone when a servant
announced that dinner was served in the next room.
"Why, it is evening," said Ilse, shyly.
"Never mind," replied the Professor, "you have taken the first step.
Show good courage." He gallantly offered her his arm. The man in smart
livery conducted them into the next room, and drew back the chairs of
the richly-adorned table. There was no end of courses. In spite of
Ilse's protest a superabundant dinner made its appearance, and she
said, at last, "I must resign myself to everything. There is no use in
struggling against these spirits. Whoever lives in a Prince's household
must be bold enough to go through all."
When the dinner at last was carried away, and Ilse had been freed from
her anxieties about Gabriel, she busily began arranging her things.
While she was unpacking she said to her husband, "This is a very
charming welcome, Felix, and I now have real confidence that all will
go well."
"Have you ever doubted it?" asked the Professor.
Ilse answered, "Up to this hour I have had a secret anxiety, I know not
why, but it has now vanished; for the people here all seem so friendly
and kindhearted."
As the Prince passed through the gardens back to the castle the two
cavaliers behind him conversed together.
"A charming woman," said the Marshal--"a beauty of the first order.
There is good blood there."
"She is in every respect a distinguished lady," replied the
Chamberlain, aloud.
"You have already told me that once," replied the Marshal. "I
congratulate you on this acquaintance from the University."
"How do you like the Professor?" asked the Chamberlain, turning the
conversation.
"He appears to be a clever man," replied the Marshal, with
indifference. "It is long since the pavilion has had such a beauty in
it."
The Prince turned round, and he saw by the light of the large
chandelier that the gentlemen exchanged looks with one another.
The Prince's carriage drove up. He entered it without saying a word to
his companions, and drove to the opera. There he entered the ante-room
of the royal box.
"How do the strangers like their abode at the pavilion?" asked the
Sovereign, kindly.
"They are content with everything," replied his son; "but the rooms are
damp, and would not be healthy for a prolonged stay."
"They were never considered so, as far as I recollect," replied the
father, coldly, "and I hope you will be convinced of it." Then, turning
to the Chamberlain, he said, "To-morrow, after breakfast, I wish to
speak to Mr. Werner."
The Hereditary Prince went into the box to his sister, and seated
himself silently at her side.
"Where are the places for the strangers?" asked the Princess.
"I do not know," replied her brother.
The Princess looked behind her inquiringly.
"The strangers' box is opposite," explained the Chamberlain; "but they
have enough to do to-day settling themselves."
"What is the matter with you, Benno?" asked the sister, after the first
act. "You cough."
"I have caught a little cold. It will pass."
After the theatre the Prince retired to his bedroom, and complained to
Krueger of a headache and sore throat. When he was alone, he opened the
window and looked across the pleasure-ground to the pavilion, the
lights of which glimmered like stars in the night. He listened. Perhaps
he might hear some sound from there. He found it warm, for he took off
his necktie, and long stood motionless at the window, till the cool
night air came into his room and the last light was extinguished. Then
he closed his window gently and went to bed.
This was not prudent, for the Prince, whose health was easily affected,
awoke the following morning with a severe cold. The doctor was hastily
called, and the Prince was obliged to keep his bed.
When the indisposition of the Hereditary Prince was announced to his
father, it put him in a bad humor. "Just now!" he exclaimed. "He has
every misfortune unhealthy people are heir to." When, afterwards, the
Professor was announced, the way in which he received the announcement
was so cold and constrained that the Chamberlain felt very anxious
about the reception of the Professor. The long habit, however, of
receiving graciously, and the dignified bearing of the Professor, had a
softening influence. After a few introductory words, the Sovereign
began a conversation about Italy; and it appeared that the Professor
was in correspondence with a distinguished literary Roman, who was one
of the Sovereign's most intimate acquaintances when he was last in
Italy. This gradually placed the Professor in quite a different light
to the Sovereign. He had sent for him as a mere useful tool, but he now
found he was a man who had claims to personal consideration, because he
was known to others whose position was respected by the Sovereign. The
Sovereign then asked how the matter of the lost manuscript stood, and
smiled at the eager zeal of the Professor, when he told him of the new
clue which he had found in the records.
"It would be well for you to prepare a memorial of the whole state of
the affair, which will assist my memory, and add to it what help you
wish from me or my officials."
The Professor was very grateful.
"I will not deny myself the pleasure of taking you to the museum,"
continued the Sovereign. "I shall thus see what a learned man, who is a
thorough connoisseur, thinks of the quiet amusement of an amateur
collector."
The doors flew open, the learned man entered the spacious rooms with
the Sovereign. "We will first go rapidly through the rooms that you may
obtain a general view of their contents and arrangements," said the
Sovereign. While the Professor looked at the abundance of beautiful and
instructive remains of antiquity, many of which were quite new to him,
the Sovereign gave some account of them; but soon left it to the
learned man to search out for himself objects of interest, and it was
now his turn to give explanations. Here there was an inscription, which
no one probably had copied; there a specimen of pottery, with very
interesting figures on it; then a statuette, a remarkable variation of
a celebrated antique piece of sculpture; here the unknown coin of a
famous Roman family, with their coat of arms; and there a long row of
amulets, with hieroglyphics.
It was a great pleasure to the Sovereign to find out the importance of
apparently insignificant objects, and every moment to receive new
information concerning their value and names, but the Professor had the
tact to avoid long explanations. He looked with quite a youthful
interest on the collection. It happened just at a time when he was not
occupied with great works, he brought with him a lively susceptibility
for impressions, and at every step he felt how charming were the new
views which he obtained; for there was much here that invited a closer
examination. He inspired the Sovereign with something of the enjoyment
he felt himself. There was no end of his questions, and the answers of
the Professor. The Sovereign was delighted to tell how he had obtained
many of the objects, and the Professor, by relating similar stories of
discoveries, led him on to give further accounts. Thus some hours
passed without the Sovereign experiencing any weariness, and he was
much astonished when he was told that it was dinnertime. "Is that
possible?" he exclaimed. "You understand the most difficult of all
arts, that of making the time pass quickly, I expect you at dinner;
tomorrow you shall see the collection again, undisturbed by my remarks;
then you must favor me with a written report of what is desirable with
respect to the arrangement, so as to make the valuable objects
serviceable to science."
At dinner--there was no one present but some gentlemen whom the
Professor, by the advice of the Chamberlain, had visited in the
morning--the conversation was continued. The Sovereign related much
about Italy, and contrived in a cursory way to draw attention to the
personal relations of the Professor with his own acquaintances, in
order that his Court might know something about the man with whom he
was so much pleased. The conversation was easy and pleasant, and before
the Sovereign left the company, he turned again to the Professor, and
said, "I desire much that you should feel at home with us, and I hope
to pass more than one day as agreeably as I have done this."
To the Professor also it had been a refreshing day, and in going away,
he said, in great spirits, to the High Steward: "His Sovereign Highness
understands very well how to say kind things."
The High Steward bowed his white head civilly, and replied, "That is
the vocation of princes."
"Certainly," continued the Professor; "but so warm an interest in the
details of a remote province of scientific inquiry is more than I had
anticipated."
The High Steward made a courteous movement, which was to signify that
he could not contradict the assertion; he enveloped himself in an
old-fashioned little mantle, bowed silently to the gentlemen who were
similarly occupied, and entered his carriage.
In intelligence and education the Sovereign was superior to most of his
fellow princes. He had preserved much of the elasticity of his youth in
advanced age; his bodily condition was excellent, and he took great
care of his health; he was still capable, in case of necessity, of
exertions which would have been severe to a younger man. In his youth
he had devoted himself enthusiastically to the ebullitions of the then
fashionable poetry, and had indulged in higher and freer aspirations
than other men. He had at that time corresponded with learned men and
artists of repute, and he liked to tell of his intimacy with some man
of prominent mind. But his youth and manhood had fallen in a weak and
decrepit period of our development. In the years when a foreign
conqueror had treated the German princes as the greater part of them
well deserved, he also as a youth had bowed to the foreigner, and
abandoned the sinking vessel at the right time to save his title to his
country. Since then he had ruled over a pitiful race of men, for he had
entered upon his government at a time of great national exhaustion; he
had found little that he was compelled to respect or fear, seldom any
men firm enough to maintain their rights against him, and no public
opinion that was strong enough to oppose his encroachment by a
unanimous determination. His country was governed by officials, the
official places were continually increased, and concerning every lost
key of a village church there was accumulated a bundle of legal
documents; he allowed these prolix forms of proceedings which benumbed
the life of the people to remain unaltered, and only took care that the
officials, whenever his personal interest came into play, should be
pliant servants, who would procure him money, and withdraw from
publicity any past wrong dealings of their Sovereign.
When he came into contact with his people, he was affable and
good-humored, made it easy for petitioners to approach him, listened
kindly and sympathetically to all complaints, and threw the blame on
the officials. He was not unpopular; sometimes the discontented
grumbled at the high taxes, and over the costly expenditure of their
master; and, here and there, an anecdote of his private life reached
the public; but the new spirit of the times, which was beginning to
stir also in his country, struggled only weakly in helpless assaults
against his system of government. And although as a ruler he showed no
inclination to remedy existing evils, yet, to those at a distance, he
appeared personally to be a humane, good-hearted man. He had a kindly
acknowledgment and a gracious word for every one; he knew much of the
private relations of his subjects, and occasionally showed his personal
sympathy for individuals; he loved children, for he would sometimes
stop in the streets to notice pretty boys and girls, and inquire after
their parents; he gave a fete to the school children of his capital
every year, appeared at it himself, and took pleasure in their games.
His Court was in many respects a model of order and pleasing display.
By all who surrounded him he was considered a distinguished man; and
contrived--which is most difficult for a prince--that those who daily
associated with him should always have a feeling of his superiority. He
had never been a military man, and he did not refrain from sarcastic
remarks on the warlike propensities of other princes. His Court long
remained free from the military influence that prevailed in neighboring
capitals. Gradually, indeed, he made some concessions to the fashion,
and his aides-de-camp became important members of the royal household;
but he was not on a comfortable footing with the officers of his
household, and, in spite of his quiet manner, was always feared by
these gentlemen. There were hours when it appeared that his reserved
character was not only accompanied by severity, but by something quite
anomalous, in addition: at such moments, cynical jests or brusque and
irritative remarks fell from his lips, and he lost all consideration
for the claims of those about him. But the young noblemen and
aides-de-camp bore the secret thorn of their position without being
subjected to the loud criticism which is often expressed by the
courtiers of ruling princes, for the Sovereign understood how to treat
them with respect before strangers. He held strictly to etiquette, even
on their behalf, and cleverly took care of their interests in the
presentation of favors--orders and decorations--which foreign princes
visiting his Court were bound to bestow; he never called upon them for
anything contrary to the dignity of their office, and knew how to
maintain his own and that of his Court in intercourse with strangers.
His wife had died early, and the inhabitants of the capital always
preserved a grateful recollection of that pale and delicate lady. It
was said that the marriage had not been a happy one; yet the sorrow of
the Sovereign was strong and lasting. He always spoke with great
tenderness of the departed, and every year, on the anniversary of her
death, fastened a garland in her mausoleum.
He had two children. The eldest, the Princess, had returned to Court
after the death of her husband; and the Sovereign, in the eyes of the
Court and the people, treated her with especial regard. He had opened
his whole heart to the Court chaplain about her. "I should like to see
her married again; she has a right to look forward to a brilliant
life,--her heart is warm, her nature energetic; and from my experience,
I consider a long state of widowhood a bad thing for the Princess. But
I fear she will resist. I have perhaps, always been a weak father to
this child. You know, venerable sir, how dear she has been to me."
Thereupon the pious gentleman, with folded hands, exclaimed: "I know
it, and I know how warmly the heart of her Serene Highness is attached
to her father." The people also remarked that the Sovereign was a good
father. On every birthday a great Court fete was arranged for the
daughter; and when the Sovereign once happened to be travelling at this
time, he appeared suddenly, contrary to all expectation, on the evening
of the birthday, in his travelling dress, at the Princess's opera-box,
kissed her on the forehead before all the people, and said that he had
hastened his return in order to wish her joy upon her _fete_ day.
Besides this, he neglected no opportunity of showing her the little
attentions which in every father gave an impression of amiable
gallantry, and which in every ruling Sovereign are doubly appreciated.
Before every ball he sent his daughter a nosegay, and every time had it
brought by the head gardener into the castle to inspect it himself. He
was glad when distinguished travellers caused their arrival to be
announced to the Princess, and always observed accurately whether she
was well entertained during their reception. But, in spite of the great
trouble the father took to give a good appearance to his relations with
the Princess, it was thought that he had a secret dislike for her. It
may be possible for a prince to be incomprehensible to those who are in
daily intercourse with him in certain important concerns, but it is
almost impossible to deceive them constantly.
The relations of the father to his son were very different. The latter,
a sickly, shy boy, had been deprived of self-confidence by the way in
which his father had watched over his education. The boy had not the
capacity to assert himself; it was still a difficult task for him to
overcome his shyness in his intercourse with strangers. When the list
of persons invited was handed to him, and he considered what he was to
say to individuals, apt questions seldom occurred to him, and what he
did bring out was so awkwardly done that it was very evident that he
had been coached. Even to the persons of the Court the young Prince was
silent and indifferent; the ladies and gentlemen were therefore
inclined to assume that he was a little weak-minded. His father treated
him with contempt, and his tone towards his son sometimes sounded short
and harsh, as if it were not worth his while to conceal his disdain for
him.
In this respect, however, injustice was done to the father. A reigning
sovereign is easily led to consider his son as a young rival. The son
will be his successor, and will, in the next generation, expose his
father before all the world, upset all his arrangements, and be
reconciled to all who have been discontented and his opponents. When he
has become sovereign, it is impossible that he should not discover
something under the former Government that has been wrong, and
everything will be brought before him in which his father has failed
and done evil. This would have been reason enough for the Sovereign to
treat his son with coldness and reserve. Now he was nobody, a powerless
slave who was indebted to his father for every penny he had; but some
day he would be everything. But his son was in his eyes insignificant;
he moved in the prescribed track as if possessed of no will of his own;
he had never defied him, was content with everything, and had yielded
silently and respectfully to every command; it was not to be supposed
that he could really govern himself, still less would he put his father
in the shade. Thus by degrees was added to the father's quiet feeling
of contempt, one of almost compassionate kindness. The timid
submissiveness of the Prince was very satisfactory to his father; it
was very agreeable to him to provide, as he was well able, a support
for the weak reed which was to carry on the future of his family. To
him he showed himself as he was: what he did for him was done with the
feeling that he was benefiting another, not himself.
But just now, when he had been taking pains to procure a pleasure for
the Hereditary Prince, the latter fell ill!
* * *
Ilse went with Gabriel through the rooms, trying to arrange them to
please herself; she moved the tables about, examined the curtains, and
looked doubtfully at the porcelain vases.
"I am surprised," said Gabriel, "that amongst this beautiful furniture
one thing should be wanting, a cuckoo-clock. That would be very
suitable: it gives life, when it opens its door, and makes profound
obeisances as they do at Court. For they are very polite here, however
deceitful they may be at heart. I have no confidence in the lackey; he
asks me too many questions. How would it be taken if we got rid of him?
I could manage to do the housekeeping alone, with the maid. No cooking
can be done here, for there is no kitchen; every drop of warm water
must be brought from the cellar over there where the white jackets work
like so many ghosts."
"There is no use worrying about it," said Ilse, decisively; "we must
accustom ourselves to the regulations, pride must put up with much; we
have no secrets, and I know you will be cautious."
"The gardener has placed a table and chairs, with flowers about it, in
front of the house," said Gabriel. "Shall I take your work down; the
sun appears warm?"
Ilse went in front of the house; near the door was a space bordered
with plants in pots, a cosy spot in the warm midday sun: one looked
from under the green arbor over the paths and smooth turf, up to the
walls of the castle. Ilse sat down in a rustic chair, holding her
embroidery in her hands, but looking up at the large stone palace, that
rose with its towers and newly built extensions, some hundred steps
from her. There dwelt the great ones of the earth, near to whom she had
been so suddenly brought. She counted the rows of windows, and thought
that there must be more than a hundred rooms and halls, all grandly and
splendidly furnished, and she wondered how many people it must require
to fill such a building that it might not look empty and desolate.
Approaching steps disturbed her thoughts. A middle-aged gentleman was
advancing up the gravel walk: he drew near: it was the Sovereign. Ilse
rose, alarmed. He came up to her slowly. "Madame Werner?" he asked,
touching his hat. Ilse curtsied low; her heart beat; she was unprepared
for this meeting with him whom she had been accustomed from her
earliest youth to consider the greatest man on earth. Though she had
once seen him, it was but for a moment. Her thoughts, ever since the
years when she had adorned him with the crown and sceptre of a mock
king at cards, had attached themselves to him with shy respect. Often
when she had looked at the Hereditary Prince, she had endeavored to
form some conception of what his father must be like; what she had
heard of him had not helped to diminish her fears.
The Sovereign looked with delight on the beautiful woman before him,
who received his flattering greeting with silent embarrassment. "You
are no stranger to me," he began, "and you have reason to be satisfied
with the years that have passed since my walk over your father's farm.
You may now try our mode of life. We also take pleasure in the spring,
and I see the sun casts friendly rays on the spot which you have
selected."
He seated himself on one of the rustic chairs, pointing at the same
time to another. "Do not let me interrupt your work. I am taking a
walk, and beg to be allowed to rest myself for a moment here."
"The work is in idle hands," answered Ilse, "I was looking at the
castle, and thinking how large the household must be that requires so
much room."
"It is an old building," remarked the Sovereign. "Many centuries have
contributed to increase it, and yet, in the opinion of the officers of
my household, it is not large enough. One easily increases one's
requirements. But then, again, one rejoices in withdrawing into a
smaller abode. I myself once lived in this pavilion, alone, with only a
few necessary servants. Such solitude does one good."
"That I can imagine," replied Ilse, sympathizingly. "But to such as we
are it is something new to see so grand a style of life. The castle and
its grounds with the blooming trees, are like large precious stones set
in gold. It gives me heartfelt pleasure to have so near a view of your
Highness's home; it helps to give one an idea of the mode of life of
our gracious Sovereign."
"Then you still consider yourself a child of our country," said the
Sovereign, smiling.
"That is natural," answered Ilse. "From my childhood I have heard of
your Highness as our ruler; whenever I looked in the newspaper I saw
your Highness's name; everywhere I have seen your Highness's pictures;
and, since I have been old enough to go to church, I have prayed for
your Highness's happiness and health. This is a bond of union; it is,
indeed, only on one side, for your Highness cannot care about us all,
but we think and care much about our ruler."
"And speak of him sometimes with dissatisfaction," replied the
Sovereign, good-humoredly.
"Just as it happens, gracious Prince," replied Ilse, honestly. "One
does not always speak well of one's neighbors; but, in serious matters
and in trouble, a good heart shows itself. So it is with the Sovereign,
each one forms his own idea of him according to circumstances, trusts
in him, or is angry with him, and ends by thinking that he and his
prince belong to one another."
"It were to be wished that so good a feeling might be shown by every
subject," rejoined the Sovereign; "but fidelity is wavering, and
personal attachment disappears."
"Many know too little of their Sovereign," said Ilse, apologizing. "How
can they care for him when they see so little of him? For seeing does
much: we at Rossau have seldom the honor of setting eyes on our
prince."
"The feeling of that country has been described to me as
unsatisfactory."
"We are situated in a distant corner, but we have a heart. Your
Highness will scarcely remember the maidens at Rossau, who received you
seventeen years ago at the triumphal arch. There were twenty; the
little town could not produce any more. They all wore the national
colors on their bodices and petticoats; they, of course, had to buy the
dresses themselves. One of the maidens was miserably poor, but she was
pretty, and did not like to be left behind, so she worked the whole
week during the greater part of the night, in order to procure money
for her dress. In her last illness, for she died young, she asked to be
buried in this dress, as that day had been one of greatest honor and
pleasure to her. But your Highness was hardly able to stop there; you
drove quickly through the triumphal arch, and, perhaps, did not even
see the maidens."
Whilst Ilse was speaking, she was secretly strewing bread crumbs beside
her. The Prince observed her hand, and she excused herself.
"The finches call to their gracious Sovereign, 'Give, give!' The little
ones are very tame here."
"They are probably fed by the servants," said the Prince.
"To love animals is the custom of our country!" exclaimed Ilse; "and
tame birds suit well with a royal castle, for all here should feel
joyful confidence."
The Sovereign's glove fell to the ground, and as the loyal Ilse quickly
bent down to pick it up, the Sovereign's eye rested for a moment upon
her head and form. He rose slowly. "I hope, Madame, that you will be of
the number of those joyful ones who place confidence in the possessor
of this spot. As master of the house, I have made inquiry after the
health of my new lodger. I wish that you may feel here some portion of
the pleasure that you know how to impart to others."
He civilly acknowledged Ilse's respectful curtsy, and returned to the
castle.
There the Chamberlain waited to report to him concerning the health of
the Hereditary Prince.
"His Highness is unfortunately still obliged to keep to his bed."
"He must take care of himself," replied the Sovereign, graciously, "and
not leave his room too soon."
_CHAPTER XXVIII_.
IN THE PAVILION.
The splendid iris colors wherewith Ilse had at first adorned her new
abode gradually faded. As, instead of the steward and lackeys by whom
she was received, there was now only a single servant, in a dark coat,
to assist Gabriel, so everything else that surrounded Ilse appeared now
in the modest colors of common earthly life. This was natural, and Ilse
herself said so to her husband. But there was one thing she did not
like: she was separated from her husband more than in the city. The
morning and a portion of the afternoon he worked in the museum, and
devoted many hours also to his own object among the archives and
records of the Marshal's office, whose private offices were willingly
opened to him. When he returned home he had sometimes to dress in haste
for the Court dinner, and Ilse dined alone. However attentive the
servant might be in bringing up the numerous dishes, the lonely meal
was uninviting and sad to her. But a great many evenings were spent in
a new entertainment: a Court carriage used to stop at the pavilion, and
convey her and her husband to the theatre. When for the first time she
entered the private boxes near the stage, she rejoiced in the
comfortable position, which allowed her to give her attention to the
performance undisturbed by the public. When she leant back in her box
she saw nothing of the spectators, except the Sovereign's seat
opposite. The theatre was very grand, much richer in decorations and
costumes than she had seen in the city, and there were some good
singers at the opera. Absorbed in the performance, she did not remark
with what curiosity she was regarded by the public, and that the
Sovereign's opera glass was often directed towards her. She soon found
that the theatre was the best amusement of the capital, and her husband
took care that she should not miss this recreation, although he,
perhaps, would have preferred remaining with his books, or examining a
bundle of records from the archives. Between the acts, Ilse looked with
curiosity down upon the people, who were all strangers to her, and said
to Felix: "This is the only occasion upon which I have ladies near me."
During the day she felt her solitude. Her father had a mercantile
friend in the city to whom she made a point of going the first day, but
in the family of the little merchant she found no one to suit her.
According to the advice of the Chamberlain, she went round with Felix
to pay visits to the Court ladies. In most of the houses no one was at
home, and she had to leave cards. Rarely were these visits returned;
and it always happened that on her return home from the city, or from a
walk in the gardens of the castle, she found the cards of some lady.
This was annoying to her, for she wished to try how she could get on
with the ladies. Some of the gentlemen of the Court, indeed, used to
present themselves to her in the morning,--the Chamberlain and the
Grand Marshal,--but the visits even of the Chamberlain became shorter;
he looked depressed, and spoke of little but the continued
indisposition of the Hereditary Prince.
Ilse was very anxious to know the Princess. The second day after her
arrival the Chamberlain announced that her Highness would see the
Professor and Madame Werner at a certain hour. Ilse stood with her
husband amidst the silk and gilding of the royal room; the door flew
open, and a young lady in half mourning swept in. Ilse recognized at
once that she was the sister of the Hereditary Prince: a delicate
refined face, the same eyes, only more lively and brilliant, and an
enchanting smile played round the delicate mouth. The Princess bowed
her small head gravely, said a few civil words to her, and then turned
to Felix, with whom she immediately entered into lively conversation.
Ilse observed with admiration the ease of her manner, and the tact with
which she could say kind things; she soon discovered what an active
mind lay concealed within that lovely form, and that her husband's
answers were instantly followed by intelligent remarks on the part of
the prude lady. At the close of the visit the Princess turned again to
Ilse, and said how much her brother lamented that his illness deprived
him of the pleasure of seeing her. The words and tone were very kind,
but there was a pride and princely dignity in the manner which hurt
Ilse. When the Professor on their return spoke with warmth of the
charming lady, and exclaimed, "That is an uncommonly bright mind! Like
her outward appearance, her inward spirit has a fairy grace about it!"
she was silent; she felt that her husband was right, but she also felt
that the Princess had excluded her from the footing of intimacy which
she had accorded to her Felix.
Being in this state of mind, she was surprised and pleased at one mark
of attention which was shown her. Since her interview with the
Sovereign the head gardener brought her every morning, at the same
hour, a vase of the most beautiful flowers, with the compliments of his
Highness. This was not all: a few days after the Sovereign came again,
when Ilse was sitting, as before, in front of the door. He asked
whether it was not advisable, on account of the slight breeze that had
sprung up, to enter the house; she took him into the room; he sat down
there, and asked, as if accidentally, whether she was well entertained,
and had found any acquaintances in the city. He took so much interest
in her that Ilse said to her husband, when he returned home, "How
mistaken are the opinions that one forms about strangers! When I came
here I thought the Sovereign was a thoroughly reserved man, but I find
him very friendly, and he seems quite a good family man too; but with
such a large household it may frequently be necessary to be strict."
The Sovereign's short visit was repeated. The next time he found the
Professor with his wife. On this occasion he was more serious than
before.
"How were you satisfied with the Hereditary Prince?" he asked the
Professor.
"Those who instructed him praised his industry; among the students he
gained popularity, and there was general regret at parting from him."
The Sovereign remarked the word popularity.
"How did the Prince contrive to gain this?"
"He showed an upright character and decided will, and one felt
confidence in him."
The Sovereign gave a searching look at the Professor, and perceived
from his calm manner that this was not empty civility.
"The attachment of the students showed itself on the departure of the
young Prince by a festive serenade," interposed Ilse.
"I know," replied the Sovereign. "I assumed that Weidegg by his
endeavors contrived to have this done."
"It was of their own free will, and showed their warm feeling," added
the Professor.
The Sovereign remained silent.
"He won the hearts of the ladies also," continued Ilse, "and we
lamented his Highness's absence from our tea-parties."
The Sovereign still continued silent; at last he began, in a bitter
tone:
"What you tell me surprises me. Considering you as the Prince's
instructor, I may speak more openly to you than to my household. The
Prince has a weak character, and I have no confidence in his future."
"He gave us the impression of having, under all this shy reserve, the
qualities for the formation of a firm and noble character," replied the
Professor, respectfully.
Ilse thought that this was the moment to introduce something
advantageous to the Prince.
"May I venture to tell your Highness, which my husband entirely
approves of, that the Prince wishes far more knowledge concerning
agricultural industry? As I am myself from the country, your Highness
will forgive me if I should say that this is the best school for our
dear young Prince."
"On the estate of your father?" asked the Sovereign shortly.
"Anywhere," replied Ilse, innocently.
"I have never heard him express any such wish," concluded the
Sovereign, rising. "In any case I am grateful to you for the interest
you take in his future."
He took leave with an air of reserve, and returned to his daily
business.
The day was a difficult one for all who had to do with him. He rode out
with his aide-de-camp into a rough, woody country, where his soldiers
after a night-march were practising field service. Generally he cared
little about the details of man[oe]uvres, but on this occasion he
harassed his aides-de-camp and soldiers by sudden changes of
disposition. When the soldiers at last returned home exhausted, he went
to inspect a distant stud and a plantation, and wandered about four
hours on rough hill roads. No one could do anything to suit him--blame
and bitter remarks alone fell from his lips. In the evening there was a
Court concert; the aide-de-camp, tired to death, stood in the hall,
counting the minutes till his retirement. Then the Sovereign on
withdrawing, called him to his study; there he seated himself in an
arm-chair near the fire-place and gazed at the fire, occasionally put
on a log, and held the silver handle of the fire-tongs in his hand,
striking it at intervals on the iron bars of the grate. Meanwhile the
aide-de-camp stood some steps behind him, one hour, two hours, till he
was ready to faint. It was not till the middle of the night that the
Sovereign rose and said, "You must be tired; I will not detain you
longer." He spoke this mildly, but his eyes glittered with an
unpleasant gleam, and the aide-de-camp acknowledged later to his
intimate friends that he should not forget that look as long as he
lived.
"The Sovereign has visited the pavilion for the third time!" said the
Chamberlain, to the Hereditary Prince, who was sitting in his room with
his throat tied up. The Prince looked down on the book which was lying
before him.
"Do the guests seem to like their residence here?"
"I cannot say that of the Professor's wife: I fear she is placed in a
difficult position here. The marked distinction which his Highness
shows her, and certain old recollections which attach to the
pavilion----"
The Prince rose, and looked so indignantly at the Chamberlain that he
became mute.
"The Sovereign was very ungracious to-day," he continued, in a
depressed tone. "When I reported to him concerning your Highness's
health, I met with a reception which was not encouraging."
The Hereditary Prince approached the window.
"The air is mild, Weidegg; I shall endeavor to go out to-morrow."
The Chamberlain was very uncertain how this decision of the Hereditary
Prince would be received: he departed in silence.
When the Prince was alone, he tore the shawl from his shoulders and
threw it on one side.
"Fool that I was! I wished to preserve her from gossip, and have
exposed her to worse. I myself sit here in seclusion, and my father
visits her in my stead. It was a cowardly device. If I cannot avert
what is impending for this poor creature, I will play my part in the
game that is beginning."
When the Prince on the following morning went to his father, the latter
began, with calm coldness:
"I hear from strangers that you have the desire to obtain some
knowledge of agriculture. The wish is sensible. I shall consider how
you can find an opportunity to obtain this knowledge somewhere in the
country. It will also be advantageous to your health, and will agree
with your inclination for a quite poetic life."
"I shall do what my honored father bids me," replied the Hereditary
Prince, and left the room.
The Sovereign looked after him, and murmured:
"Not a word to be got out of him but cowardly submission; always the
same submissive compliance. Not an eyelash moved when I ordered him to
do what was unwelcome. Is it possible that this pliant boy is a master
of dissimulation, and is deceiving me and all of us?"
If Ilse in spite of the distinction with which the Prince treated her,
had a foreboding of the dark shadow which hung over the pavilion, far
different was the tone of mind of her husband; he lived in the midst of
the interesting investigations to which the museum gave rise, and the
poetry of his earnest mind worked busily, and cast a brilliant lustre
over his sojourn in the capital. He was a hunter who trod with light
step over his hunting ground, breathing the pure mountain air, whilst
around him the rays of the sun gilded the mossy ground and heather. The
time had now come when that of which he had dreamt for years was within
reach of his hand. It is true the new track of the manuscript remained
indistinct. The fate of that chest which had been mentioned in the old
letter could not be ascertained. In the Prince's library, and in a
collection of books in the city, there were found neither manuscripts
nor other books which could be ranked among the possessions of the
monastery of Rossau. He had renewed his acquaintance with the
head-forester, but the latter could think of no place where old hunting
implements were kept. He went through old catalogues of the Marshal's
office, and nowhere could the chest be discovered. But it was more
strange still that the name of a royal castle Solitude was quite
unknown in the capital. The castle, like one in an old legend, had
vanished. But, strange as this circumstance was, yet the account of the
student had won for this old letter of the official an importance which
gave the searcher hopes of a good result. For only a few years ago some
one, who knew little of the value of such a narrative, had seen the
Rossau chest. It was no longer a deceptive image from a distant past;
on any day a lucky accident might lead him to it. But when the
Professor gazed on the slate roof of the royal castle, and ascended the
grand steps, he had always a joyful presentiment that he was now near
his treasure. With the help of the Castellan he had already examined
the whole ground-floor of the castle; he had climbed up under the beams
of the old roof like a marten, and had opened the old garrets, the keys
of which had not turned for a generation. He had found nothing. But
there were other houses belonging to the Sovereign in the town and
neighborhood, and he was quite decided to examine one after the other
secretly.
In this time of restless agitation, when his fancy was always opening
new prospects, intercourse with agreeable persons was very refreshing.
He himself, in this state of excitement, proved a good companion, and
observed with cheerful interest the proceedings of those about him. The
Sovereign showed him great distinction, and the young noblemen were
very attentive; he took his place among them with dignity and without
pretension.
The Chamberlain informed the Professor how much the Princess had been
pleased with him, and Felix rejoiced when one forenoon she and her
lady-in-waiting visited the museum, and begged for his guidance. When
the Princess was going away, thanking him, she begged he would mention
to her some books from which she could herself learn a little about
that portion of the life of antiquity, the ruins connected with which
he had shown her; she told him also of an ancient vase which she
possessed, and asked him to come and see it.
The learned man was now standing with the Princess before the vase. He
explained to her the subject of the pictures, and told her something
about the old Greek pottery. The Princess led him into another room,
and showed him some valuable sketches. "I wish you to see all I possess
of objects of art." While he was examining these, she began, suddenly:
"You have now learnt to know us a little, and how do you like us?"
"I have met with great kindness," replied the Professor, "which is
agreeable to one's self-esteem; it gives me pleasure to observe a life
so different from that of my circle and people, who are differently
bred."
"In what do you find us differently bred?" asked the Princess,
pressingly.
"The habit of acting your part fittingly at every moment, and
maintaining your position among others, give persons an easy
confidence, which always has a pleasant effect."
"That would be an advantage which we share with every tolerable actor,"
replied the Princess.
"At all events, it is an advantage always to play the same role."
"You think, therefore, it is no longer art if we become adepts in it,
and act our part well," rejoined the Princess, smiling; "but in that
also there is danger; we are from childhood so much accustomed to
behave suitably, that it endangers our sincerity; we observe the
effects of our words, and we soon think more of the good effect than of
the purport of what is said. I myself, while talking with you, remark
with pleasure how much I please you, yet I am nothing more than a poor
princess. But if our aptness in presentation pleases you, in like
manner we are attracted by a character that is calm and confident
without attending to outward appearances; and perhaps a deficiency in
the forms of society and the plain speaking of a powerful mind are
interesting to us, if they do not wound our feelings, for on this
point, we are sensitive. Whoever would wish to leave a pleasant
impression, would do well to treat our pretensions with consideration.
I do not wish you to treat me so," she said, interrupting herself, "but
I am solicitous on your account. Yesterday I heard you flatly
contradicting my father. I beg of you to have regard for our weakness,
for I hope that you are still to remain long with us."
The Professor bowed. "If I opposed his views more warmly than was
necessary, it is because I lie under a temptation which is dangerous to
men of my calling. Disputation is the weakness of men of learning."
"Good, we will reckon up our qualities one against the other. But you
are in the happy position of always attacking things boldly; we, on the
contrary, must be cautiously on the defensive. The great importance of
external appearances is instilled into us from youth, and cannot be
dispensed with. With you there is probably seldom any strife about
precedence, and I fear it is quite immaterial to you what place you
take in our degrees of rank; but these things are great events to us,
not only to our Court, but still more to ourselves. Many of us are for
days unhappy, because we have not taken our proper place, at dinner.
Many visits are discontinued on that account, old alliances are broken
off, and there is frequent quarrelling behind the scenes. When we
occasionally meet with clever people of your stamp, we ourselves laugh
over these weaknesses, but few are free from them. I have already
fought for my place at dinner, and made a great fuss about it," she
added, with good-humored frankness.
"No one can entirely free himself from the ideas of his circle,"
replied the Professor, courteously. "A century ago there was the same
tormenting eagerness about rank and social precedence among the
citizens. With us it has become different since our life has been
pervaded with a strong intellectual element. In the future, even at
Court, people will laugh at these things as antiquated frippery."
The Princess raised her little finger threateningly. "Mr. Werner, that
was spoken again as the learned man: it was not polite. For, though we
move entirely in the track of fashion and of Court manners, we do not
remain behind those from whom we are socially separated."
"Perhaps it is because you separate yourselves," said the Professor.
"The warmest pulse of our nation has always been in the middle class;
from them education and new ideas have gradually spread to the princes
and the people. Even the peculiarities and weaknesses of the
civilization of a period rise to the throne generally half a century
after the educated middle class of the nation have suffered from them,
and are only just appreciated there when they are already giving way
among the people to some new tendency of the time. Therefore, it is
often difficult for the Sovereign and his people to understand each
other."
"Oh, how right you are!" exclaimed the Princess, drawing nearer to him.
"It is the fate of princes, the misfortune of us all, that the most
valuable culture of our time seldom exercises a good influence upon us.
There is a want of fresh air in the atmosphere in which we live, we are
all weak and sickly. All who approach near us must accommodate
themselves to our prejudices, and we accustom ourselves to regard men
according to the rules which we have devised for them ourselves. Have
you ever before been brought into contact with any of our great
rulers?"
"No," replied the Professor.
"Have you never sent what you have written to any of them?"
"I have had no occasion to do so," replied the Professor.
"Then you are unacquainted with the scale of favors that are shown to
you learned gentlemen. Now, I must repay you for the delightful
instruction you have given me about ancient vases, by giving you some
instruction in return. Sit down opposite to me. You are now my pupil."
The Princess leaned back in her chair, and assumed a serious
expression. "We assume that you are pious and good, and look up
respectfully to the handle of the Imperial globe that we hold in our
hand. Your first presentation comes,--a handsome book; the title-page
is opened: 'Upon antique vases.' Hm--who is the man? One informs
oneself a little about the fellow, and it is well if your name is
already to be found in print. Thereupon follows an answer of
acknowledgment from the Council, short variations according to formula
No. 1. Your second presentation makes its appearance: a beautiful
binding, an agreeable impression, therefore a warmer acknowledgment in
courteous expressions, according to formula No. 2. A third
presentation: again a large volume, the gilt edges are unimpeachable;
the Council take the book up and weigh it. If the author is a lesser
light, he enters the class of gold breastpins; if he is worthy of a
higher consideration, from a well-known name, and what is more
effective with us, from a title, he reaches the sphere of orders. There
are different classes of orders which are distributed among strangers,
accurately according to their titles. But he who is persistent, and
does not tire of showing fresh marks of respect, hops gradually, like
the green frog, at intervals of years, to the highest rank."
"My kindest thanks for the instruction," replied the Professor. "I must
be allowed in this case to take the Council under my protection. For
what could the illustrious gentlemen do when they are overrun with such
a multitude of indifferent presents?"
"It was a fair example," said the Princess, "of how beautifully we have
arranged, in all directions, the steps to our favor. For the rest, we
are, with respect to what we accord to people, not only civil, but
economical. He who has no colored ribbons to give, finds himself
greatly inconvenienced. But," continued she, in a changed tone, "in the
same way our principal efforts in every undertaking are made with an
eye to vain show and empty forms; and as hundreds are so weak and
abject that they are attracted in this way, we think we can thus attach
millions to us."
"Many small advantages may be obtained in this manner," replied the
Professor; "but there is an error in your reasoning; he who tries to
attach men to him by their weakness, vanity, and pride, does not gain
the best part of their life. In quiet times this attraction is
unnecessary, and in times of danger it has only the strength of a rope
of sand."
The Princess nodded her head.
"We know that right well," she said, confidingly; "and we do not feel
comfortable and secure, in spite of the profuse distribution of honors.
What I tell you would sound like high treason to my illustrious
relatives, only because I express it, not because I think it. Do not
consider me the black sheep of the flock, there are wiser people than I
who in secret form the same judgment; but we cannot find our way out of
the barrier, and we cling to it, although we know that the support is
weak. For as the humming-bird gazes on the serpent, so do we view the
prospect that the present age opens before us, with a shudder and
helpless expectation." She rose. "But I am a woman, and have no right
to speak with you upon these important subjects. When I feel uneasy I
use the right of women--to complain--which I have done abundantly to
you. For I have it at heart to please you, Mr. Werner. I wish you to
consider me as a woman who deserves something better than complaisant
words and polite nothings. Allow me often the pleasure of rectifying my
judgment by yours."
She put out her hand to the learned man with hearty confidence. Werner
bowed low, and left the room. The Princess looked after him with a
pleased expression.
The Professor went fresh from the conversation to the pavilion, and
told his wife all that had passed.
"I did net consider it possible," he exclaimed, "to find a woman of
this rank with so liberal and high-minded an understanding of her
position. What was most charming was her animated, and unaffected
manner--a charm that made itself felt at every moment, both in voice
and movement. I am enchanted with the little lady. I will immediately
prepare the book that she wished for."
He seated himself at the table, marked out passages, and wrote remarks
on small strips of paper, which he laid within.
Ilse was sitting by the window, looking at her husband in astonishment.
It was no wonder that the Princess pleased him. Ilse herself had with
the quick intuition of a woman perceived her power of attraction. Here
was a soul that, amidst the constraint of her Court, longed for
intercourse with a man of liberal culture; here was a powerful mind
that rose above the prejudices of rank,--clever, light of fancy, and
quick of comprehension. Now this woman had found a man to whom she
could look up, and with her little hands she cast her fetters about
him.
The room was becoming dark. Felix was still sitting writing and making
notes. The rays of the evening sun shone upon his head, but the dark
shadow of the unfamiliar room hovered over Ilse. She rose from her
chair behind her husband.
"He is good to me," she said to herself; "he loves me, as one always
does the person whom one has taken into confidence. He is not like
other men; he will not allow a stranger to take away my rights; he is
innocent as a child, and does not perceive the danger that threatens
him and me. Take care, Ilse, not to awake the night-wanderer. I, fool!
What right have I to complain if another should benefit by his rich
mind? Have I not enough for myself in the treasure of his life? No,"
she exclaimed, and threw her arms round her husband's neck; "you belong
to me, and I will have you entirely."
The Professor raised his head, and his look of astonishment brought
Ilse to her senses.
"Forgive me," she said, feebly; "I was thinking."
"What is the matter. Ilse?" he asked, kindly; "your cheeks are hot. Are
you ill?"
"It will pass over; have patience with me."
The Professor left his book, and occupied himself anxiously about his
wife.
"Open the window," she said softly. "The air of the close room feels
heavy to me."
He was so tenderly concerned about her that she again looked cheerfully
at him.
"It was a foolish weakness, Felix; it has passed away."
_CHAPTER XXIX_.
TWO NEW GUESTS.
The Professor was standing with the Chamberlain and the Sovereign in
the study. The latter held in his hand the memorial that Werner had
prepared respecting the new catalogue of the museum.
"Only now can I form an estimate concerning the extent of the catalogue
which you consider necessary. I am ready to agree to your proposals, if
you will bind yourself to undertake the superintendence of the new
arrangement and of the catalogue. If you cannot do us this service,
everything must remain as before, for only the great confidence which I
have in you, and the wish to keep you here, will induce me to make the
necessary sacrifice. You see I make the undertaking dependent upon the
degree of inclination which you yourself have for this work."
The Professor replied that his presence might be desirable for the
introductory arrangements, and that he was ready to spend some weeks
upon it. Afterwards, it would be sufficient if from time to time he
examined the progress of the work.
"With this I shall be content for the present," said the Sovereign,
after a pause; "our contract is, then, concluded. But I see that it
will be necessary to get some one who will carry out the details under
your guidance. Will the Curator be able to it?"
The Professor thought not.
"And could you propose any one?"
The Professor thought over the old members of his circle.
But the proper man at once occurred to the Chamberlain.
"Would not Magister Knips do for this work?"
"Just the man," said the Professor; "industry, knowledge, everything
about him, makes him peculiarly adapted for it. I believe that he may
be had at once. I can answer for his trustworthiness with respect to
the care of objects of value. But I cannot take this responsibility
upon me without disclosing to your Highness that once in his life, from
want of caution, he was implicated in a disagreeable affair, that
lessened the confidence, not only of myself, but of many of his
acquaintances."
The Professor then related, with forbearance towards all concerned, the
history of the forged parchment sheet of Tacitus.
The Sovereign listened with interest, and pondered.
"With respect to the safety of the collection, the old catalogue will
allow of constant control. You consider the Magister innocent of this
deception?"
"I do consider him so," replied the learned man.
"Then I request you to write him."
Some days afterwards Magister Knips entered the capital. He carried his
travelling-bag and hat-box to an unpretending inn, at once clad himself
in the dress which he had always spoken of to his mother as his livery,
and sought the Professor at the Pavilion. Gabriel saw the figure in the
distance passing through the blooming shrubs, his head on his shoulder
and his hat in his hand; for Knips considered it proper to uncover his
head in the sacred precincts of the castle, and entered like a walking
bow into the distinguished horizon. The Professor could not conceal a
smile when he saw the Magister in courtly attire, polished and
fragrant, standing before him, with two low obeisances.
"It was the Chamberlain who proposed you for this occupation, and I did
not object to it. For on the supposition that you will be suitably
remunerated, an opportunity for work is afforded which may perhaps
raise you for good above your insignificant occupation, and which, if
dutifully carried out, will entitle you not only to our warmest thanks,
but to those of the whole learned world. Your conduct here may
therefore be decisive for the rest of your life. Remember, also, every
hour, Mr. Magister, that you have to show conscientiousness and
fidelity, not only to learning, but also with respect to the property
of the prince who has called you to this post of confidence."
"When I read the letter of the right honorable and most highly
respected Professor," answered Knips, "I did not doubt that his kind
intentions were to give me the opportunity of assuming a new character
in life. Therefore, upon entering the portals of an unknown career, I
entreat with deep emotion, above all, for the continuation of your good
opinion, which I trust to be able to deserve by faithful obedience."
"Very well then," concluded the Professor; "announce yourself to the
Chamberlain."
The day following Knips was sitting before a row of antique lamps, with
brown Holland sleeves to preserve his dress coat, his pen behind his
ear, surrounded by the books of the castle library; he opened them,
compared, wrote, and was as active in his work as if he had all his
life been a clerk in a bric-a-brac establishment of ancient Rome.
The Chamberlain announced before dinner, with satisfaction, to the
Hereditary Prince, "Magister Knips has come;" and the Prince repeated
to his sister, "The wise Knips is here."
"Ah, the Magister!" said the father, with equal good humor.
The same week the Sovereign was taken by the Chamberlain into the
museum, in order that Knips might fall under his notice. The Sovereign
looked with curiosity upon the lowly bent man, who perspired with
fright, and who now quite resembled a mouse which is prevented by a
powerful fascination from disappearing into its hole. The Sovereign
discovered immediately what he called a subaltern nature; and the pale
flat face, retreating chin, and dolorous aspect, appeared to amuse him.
In passing, he remarked the rampart of books from which Knips had
emerged.
"You have made yourself quickly at home; I hope that you will find all
the books that are indispensable to your work."
"I have ventured," said Knips in a high and rasping voice, "to borrow
from your Highness's library much that I needed. My wants are moderate,
and what I lacked, I have managed, through the assistance of honored
patrons, to obtain from the university library of my native city."
The Sovereign answered with a short nod, and proceeded. Magister Knips
remained standing in an attitude of deferent respect till the Sovereign
had left the room, when he returned to his chair, and, without turning
to the right or left, resumed his writing. Whenever the Sovereign
entered or left the room he started up and sank down again, as if
turned into an automaton by his great respect.
"Are you satisfied with him?" asked the Sovereign, of the Professor.
"Beyond expectation," answered the latter.
The Chamberlain, pleased by his recommendation, reminded his master
that Knips was also an excellent painter of coats of arms, and
possessed remarkable knowledge of the customs and regulations of the
old Court festivals.
When the Sovereign left the gallery he cast a dignified glance over the
bent head of the little man; but Knips might well be pleased with the
results of this presentation, for he was pronounced very respectful,
and regarded useful for further projects.
He had soon an opportunity of showing his usefulness in an
extraordinary case. The arrangements of the Court were in every respect
exemplary, and not least when the Sovereign wished to show some mark of
attention. A confidential councillor kept a list of the birthdays on
which the Sovereign was bound to make a present, and also of the
popular festivals where it was necessary for him to present a silver
cup or some other testimony of his royal sympathy. On this list was
noted down the fixed value of the present; and as the time approached
the councillor sent the necessary information to the Chamberlain, whose
business it was to choose a suitable present. On the birthday of any
member of the princely family the Chamberlain only made suggestions;
the Sovereign himself decided what was to be given.
Now the birthday of the Princess was approaching. The
gentleman-in-waiting, therefore, made a visit to her lady-in-waiting,
in order to discover secretly what the Princess would like. In this not
uncommon way many things were proposed; the Chamberlain of his own idea
added modern trifles, among them copies of colored initial letters,
which just then were painted in albums and letter-sheets, for he knew
that the Princess had wished for things of the kind. The Sovereign
glanced over the list, and at last stopped at the initial letters.
"These Parisian manufactures will hardly please the Princess. Could she
not have painted letters copied from old parchments by a draughtsman?
Did you not extol Magister Knips to me? He could prepare very pretty
little designs."
The Chamberlain expressed deferent surprise at his Highness's idea, and
sought the Magister. Knips promised to paint all the letters of the
alphabet in the old characters, and the Chamberlain meanwhile looked
after the cover. When the work of the Magister was laid before the
Sovereign he was indeed surprised.
"These are like the beautiful old rubrics," he exclaimed; "how do they
come here?"
Every letter was so painted on the old parchment that at cursory glance
it could not be discovered whether the work was old or new.
"This shows wonderful talent; take care that the man is compensated
according to the value of his service."
Knips lapsed into a state of respectful transport when the Chamberlain
demonstrated to him the satisfaction of the Sovereign in shining coins.
But it did not end there. For shortly afterwards the Sovereign visited
the museum at the time when Knips was working. The Sovereign stopped
again in front of the Magister, and said:
"I was delighted with your pictures. You possess a rare aptitude: both
eyes and judgment might be deceived by the counterfeit of antiquity."
"Your most gracious Highness must pardon me if, on account of shortness
of time, the imitation was imperfect," replied the bowing Knips.
"I am quite satisfied with it," rejoined the Sovereign, examining
sharply the countenance and bearing of the little man. He began to
vouchsafe a feeling of interest for the Magister. "You must have
formerly had opportunities of exercising this art in a remunerative
way."
"It has been reserved for your Highness to render my little dexterity
valuable to me," replied Knips; "hitherto I have only practised such
imitations for my own pleasure, or here and there to please others."
The Sovereign laughed, and went away with a gracious nod. Magister
Knips was judged to be very useful.
* * *
The Princess was sitting at her writing-table; the pen in her little
hand flew over the paper; sometimes she looked into a book, which had a
learned appearance, and copied passages which were designated by marks.
Steps in the ante-room disturbed her work; the Hereditary Prince
entered, with an officer in foreign uniform.
"Sit down, children!" exclaimed the Princess. "Put aside your sabre,
Victor, and come to me. You have become a handsome fellow: one can see
that you have taken your place among strangers."
"I am breaking my way through," replied Victor, shrugging his
shoulders, and laying his sabre cautiously near, that he might reach it
with his hand.
"Be tranquil," said the Princess, consolingly; "we are now safe; he is
busy."
"If he said so, we must not depend upon it," replied Victor. "You have
become serious, Siddy. Even the room is changed--books, nothing but
books." He opened one at the title-page. "'Archaeology of Art.' Tell
me, what are you doing with this trash?"
"I am breaking my way through," repeated Siddy, shrugging her
shoulders.
"Siddy patronizes learning," explained the Hereditary Prince. "We now
have literary tea-parties, she has pieces read and roles assigned. Take
care, you will have to join it."
"I only read villains' parts," replied Victor; "or, at the most valets'
roles."
"The inferior parts are always my share," said the Hereditary Prince.
"The best that falls to my lot is a good-natured father, who ends by
giving his blessing."
"He has talent for nothing but open-hearted goodness; he protests if he
has more than four verses to recite, and even with that there are
pauses during which he fidgets with his lorgnette."
"His proper vocation would be that of pastor," said Victor, mockingly.
"He would favor his congregation with short sermons, and set them a
virtuous example."
"If he were only better than you, there would be no merit in it,
Victor. You have the reputation of playing such naughty tricks that we
are not allowed even to know them?"
"All calumny!" cried Victor, "I am harshly judged in my regiment
because of my strict principles."
"Then Heaven preserve us from an invasion of your comrades. I am glad
that you mean to pass your leave of absence in our parts; but I am
surprised at it. You are free: the whole world is open to you."
"Yes, free as a jackdaw that is thrown out of its nest," replied
Victor; "but there are times when it occurs to one that a garrison has
not all the charms of home."
"And that you seek with us?" asked the Princess. "Poor cousin! But
meanwhile you have been campaigning. I congratulate you. We hear that
you behaved gallantly."
"I had a good horse," said Victor, laughing.
"You have also visited all our relations?"
"I have penetrated the mysteries of three Courts," replied Victor.
"First, at my cousin's, the innocent shepherd's Court,--a charming
rural life! The Grand Marshal carries embroidery in his pocket, at
which he works among the ladies. The lady-in-waiting comes with her
spaniel to dinner, and has him fed in the kitchen. Twice every week
people are invited from the city to tea and pastry. When the family are
alone at their tea they play for hazel-nuts. I believe that they are
gathered in the autumn by the whole Court. Then I went to the Court of
my great-uncle, with the six-foot grenadiers. I was the smallest of the
society. One day all were in the costume of generals, the day after all
were Nimrods, in hunting-coats and gaiters. One day it was drilling,
and the next hunting. Powder is the greatest article of consumption at
Court there. Even the ballet-dancers, they say, wear uniforms under
their gauze. Lastly, there was the great Court of Aunt Louisa. All with
white heads and powder. Any one with the hair of youth endeavoured to
rid of it as quickly as possible. In the evening virtuous family
conversation, and if any talked scandal, they would on the following
morning receive an order from the Princess to contribute to some
benevolent institution. The Princess Minna asked me whether I attended
church regularly, and when I told her that at all events I played
regularly at whist with our chaplain, I was held in great contempt. She
danced the first country dance with her brother and only the second
with me. The evening society was accurately arranged according to the
respective dignities of the guests. There was the hall of the Privy
Councillors, of the Chamberlains, and of the small folk of the Court;
and, besides that, a lower place for an unavoidable class of citizens,
in which bankers and artists wait to be noticed by their Highnesses."
"These formalities make us ridiculous to the whole world," exclaimed
the Hereditary Prince.
The Princess and Victor laughed at this sudden ebullition.
"Since when has Benno become a Red?" asked Victor.
"It is the first time I have heard him speak in this way," said the
Princess.
"A prince should only invite gentlemen into his society; but whoever is
there should be considered as the equal of the rest," continued the
Hereditary Prince.
Again the others laughed.
"We thank you for the wise remark, Professor Bonbon," cried Siddy.
"It was in this room that we dressed you up as an owl, Bonbon; and you
sat here groaning under Siddy's mantle when the Sovereign surprised
us."
"And where you received punishment," replied Benno, "because you had so
disfigured a poor fellow like me."
"Fix him up again!" cried Siddy.
"Victor took a colored silk handkerchief, formed two points by knots
for ear-tufts, and covered the head of the Hereditary Prince, who
quietly submitted. His serious face, with his dark eyebrows, looked
strangely from under the covering.
"The feather-coat is wanting," exclaimed Siddy; "we must imagine it. I
am the quail, and Victor the cock. I know the melody that we used to
improvise as children."
She flew to the pianoforte and ran over the notes. The Hereditary
Prince twisted the theatre-bill, which he pulled out of his pocket,
into a cornet, and cried into it, "Tu-whit, tu-whoo, Mrs. Quail, I eat
you."
The quail sang: "Pik werwit old tu-wooh, that you will not do." And the
cock crows, "Cock-a-doodle-doo, dearest quail, I love you."
"That has never been true, Victor," said the Princess, in the midst of
the game.
"Who knows?" rejoined he; "cock-a-doodle-doo."
The concert was in full flow. Victor sprang about, clapped his hands
and crowed; the Hereditary Prince on his chair screeched unweariedly
like an owl; Siddy moved her head in time, sang her pik-wer-wit,
calling out occasionally, "You are very funny little boys." A slight
knocking was heard; they quickly left off their play; the sabre was
restored to its belt; and the quail became in a moment the
distinguished lady.
"His Grace your father begs to inform your Highness that he will wait
upon you," announced the page.
"I knew that he would disturb us," cried Victor, in a rage.
"Away with you, children," cried Princess Sidonie. "I must repeat once
more, cousin, that I rejoice to have you with us again. We three will
hold together. Benno is brave, and my only comfort. Avoid conversing
with me whenever the Sovereign is present. I will not take it amiss if
you do not notice me at all. The spy who is placed about me is now my
maid of honor, Lossau. Every word that you speak in her presence is
reported; you know the gentlemen, they have not become more pleasant."
"There is Benno's Chamberlain," asked Victor; "the Sovereign was
talking to him a long time to-day."
"He is good-humored, but weak," remarked the Hereditary Prince; "and
devoted to his place. There is no dependence on him."
"Try to behave well, Victor," continued the Princess; "be a good
Chinese, and wear your pigtail according to rule, and deport yourself
exactly according to the privileges of the tuft that you wear on your
cap. Now, away with you down the private staircase."
Princess Sidonie hastened to the door of the reception-room to meet the
Sovereign. The Sovereign passed through the rooms to her study. He cast
a glance at the open book:
"Who has made these marks?"
"Mr. Werner noted the most important passages for me," replied the
Princess.
"I am glad that you make use of this opportunity to obtain instruction
from so distinguished a man. Apart from the pedantic manner which
attaches to his profession, he is a remarkable man. I wish, on account
of his disinterested activity, to make his position as agreeable as
possible, and I beg that you will do your best towards accomplishing
it."
The Princess bowed silently, closing her hand convulsively.
"As it is impossible to bring him and his wife into closer relations
with the Court, I wish you would invite them to one of your little
tea-parties."
"You must pardon me, my most worthy father, if I do not see how this
can be. My evening parties have hitherto consisted only of my ladies
and the principal members of the Court."
"Then you must alter that," said the Sovereign, coldly; "you are not
prevented from introducing into it one or other of our officials, with
their wives."
"Pardon me, my father; as this has never yet happened, every one would
remark that the change has only been occasioned through the strangers.
It would occasion much ill-natured remark if an accidental visit were
to upset what has been the acknowledged rule up to the present day."
"The consideration of foolish gossip shall not prevent you," replied
the Sovereign, angrily.
"My gracious father must take a favorable view of the considerations
which hinder my doing anything of the kind. It would not become me, a
woman, to dispense with the habits and customs which my lord and father
has considered binding upon himself. You have deigned to permit the
attendance of Mr. Werner at your small dinners, and I could, without
giving any uncommon offence, receive him at my tea-table. His wife, on
the other hand, has never been brought into relations with the Court
through your own sanction. It would ill become the daughter to venture
what the father himself has not done."
"This reason is a poor disguise for ill-nature," replied the Sovereign.
"Nothing hinders you from leaving out the whole Court."
"I can have no evening society, however small, without inviting the
ladies of the Court," replied the Princess, pertinaciously; "and I
cannot ask them to take part in a mixed society."
"I will take care that Miss von Lossau shall appear," replied the
Sovereign, in a bitter tone. "I insist upon your conforming to my
wishes."
"Forgive me, gracious father," replied the Princess, in great
excitement, "if I do not obey you in this case."
"Do you dare to defy me?" cried the Sovereign, with a sudden outbreak
of anger, approaching the Princess.
The Princess turned pale, and stepped behind a chair as if for
protection.
"I am the only lady of our house," she exclaimed; "and I have in this
high position to pay regard to considerations from which, neither as
the lord of this Court, nor as my own father, you can release me. If
your Highness chooses to make new Court regulations, I will willingly
conform to them; but what your Highness requires of me now is not a new
regulation, but an irregularity which is humiliating for me and for us
all."
"Impertinent, insolent fool!" cried the Sovereign, no longer master of
himself. "Do you think you have outgrown my control because I once let
you out of my hands? I have brought you here in order to hold you fast.
You are in my power; no slave is more so. Within these walls no power
prevails but mine, and if you do not bend to it, I will break your
stubborn spirit."
He approached her threateningly. The Princess drew back to the wall of
her room.
"I know I am your prisoner," she cried out, with flashing eyes. "I knew
when I returned here that I was entering my prison. I knew that no cry
of anguish could penetrate these walls, and that a slave would find
more protection among men than the child of a prince from her father.
But in this room I have a supporter, to whom I often look imploringly;
and if your Highness deprives me of the help of all the living, I call
upon the dead for protection against you."
She pulled the cord of a curtain, and the life-sized picture of a lady
became visible, in whose soft countenance there was a touching
expression of sorrow. The Princess pointed to the picture and looked
fixedly at the Sovereign.
"Will your Highness venture to insult your daughter before the eyes of
her mother?"
The Sovereign drew back, and gave vent to a hoarse murmur, turned away,
and motioned with his hand.
"Cover the picture," he said, in a feeble voice. "Do not excite
yourself and me unnecessarily," he began, in a changed tone. "If you do
not choose to fulfill my wishes, I will not insist upon it." He took
his hat from the table, and continued, in a softer tone: "You are
beloved by the citizens; the weather is as warm as summer, and promises
to last. I will, on your birthday, arrange to have a morning concert
for the officials and the citizens in the park. I will send you a list
of invitations through the Lord High Steward. In the evening we shall
have a gala-supper and visit the opera."
The Sovereign left the room without looking at his daughter. The
Princess followed him to the anteroom, where the attendants were
standing. At the door she made a low curtsy. The Sovereign gave a
friendly sign with his hand. The Princess then flew back into her room,
threw herself down before the picture, and wrung her hands.
* * *
The Princes were walking in the park, and the promenaders bowed and
looked after them. The Hereditary Prince took off his hat with the
dignity of a man; Victor touched his hussar cap lightly, and nodded
sometimes familiarly to a pretty face.
"All old acquaintances," he began; "it is a pleasure, indeed, to be
home again."
"You always were a favorite of the people," said the Hereditary Prince.
"I have amused and provoked them," replied Victor laughing. "I feel
like Hercules with his mother earth, and am ready for any mischief.
Benno, do not look so dejected; I cannot stand it."
"If you had, like me, to walk always at the same hour you would look so
too," replied Benno, stopping before an empty water-tank, in which four
little bears were sitting, looking at the public, who were throwing
bread to them. The Hereditary Prince took a piece of bread from the
keeper, who approached him hat in hand, and threw it mechanically to
the bears. "And if you had by high command to show yourself every day
as the friend of the people, and feed these stupid bears, you would
also weary of them."
"Pooh!" exclaimed Victor, "it only depends upon yourself to make these
louts amusing."
He sprang with one jump into the walled place among the animals, laid
hold of the first bear as a sheep is carried to be shorn, threw it upon
the second, and the third upon the fourth; a horrible growling and
clawing began among the bears; they fought violently together, and the
bystanders shouted with pleasure.
"Your hand, comrade," called out the Prince, to one of the spectators,
who were watching him and giving vent to loud expressions of
approbation. "Help me out."
The person called upon was our friend Gabriel, who held out both hands.
"Here, your Excellence, quick, that they don't catch your uniform."
Victor sprang lightly up, giving his supporter a slap on the shoulder.
"Thanks, comrade; if you ever get into a fix, I will lend you a hand
too."
The people cried "Bravo!" with much laughter.
"You must force life into the place," said Victor. "If your father does
not drive me away, I shall in a week make it as lively at your Court as
I have done here in the bear-pit."
"I, meanwhile, have suffered for it," replied Benno, with vexation;
"one man said to another, 'What a pity that that fellow has not as much
courage!' of course meaning me."
"Never mind: you are the wise one. In the eyes of thoughtful people,
your virtues shine bright when placed in contrast with mine. Now let me
into your confidence. What lady of the theatre do you favor with your
attentions, that I may not be in the way? I do not wish to interfere
with you."
"Nothing of this kind is permitted me," replied Benno.
"Not permitted?" asked Victor, astonished; "what kind of tyranny is
this? Has it become the fashion here to be virtuous? Then impart to me,
at least, what other lady, from political reasons, may only be admired
by me in the distance?"
"I believe that you have free choice," replied Prince Benno, depressed.
"What a blessing for me that I am not Hereditary Prince! But what has
occasioned the Sovereign to invite me here so graciously?"
"We do not know; Siddy also was surprised."
"And I, fool, thought she had a hand in the game."
"If she had attempted anything of the kind, you would assuredly have
had no invitation."
"That he does not like me is evident. I had a cool reception."
"Perhaps he wishes to have you married."
"To whom?" asked Victor, quickly.
"He has caused you to visit amongst our relations," replied the
Hereditary Prince, cautiously.
"He? By no means. I was passed on from one to another, and everywhere
treated like a nice boy. The whole was clearly concerted."
"Perhaps one of our great matchmakers was at the bottom of it," said
the Hereditary Prince.
"Not in my case, depend upon it. I am ill looked upon by the conclave
of mothers of our country, who have in charge the feelings of our
princely families. They would not stir a finger for me."
"If my father has not done it, or none of our relations, the Lord High
Steward must have done it."
"Bless you for this supposition," exclaimed Victor. "If he wishes to
have me here then all is right."
"Have you spoken to him?"
"I have been with him; he talked to me about the campaign, and spoke in
his usual friendly way, but nothing more."
"Then it was he, you may depend upon it."
"But why?" asked Victor. "What can I do here?"
"That you must not ask me; he favors me with little of his confidence."
"Why do you turn away from the pavilion at every bend in the path?"
asked Victor. "Have you placed steel traps there? By Jove, what a
glorious face! Look, you dissembler! So, you are become virtuous?"
The Hereditary Prince colored with indignation.
"The lady up there deserves the most considerate treatment," he said,
moodily.
"Then that is the beautiful stranger," cried Victor; "she is reading.
If she would only turn a look this way, that one might see more than
her profile. We will go there: you shall introduce me."
"Under no circumstances," replied the Hereditary Prince; "least of all
now."
Victor looked at him in astonishment.
"You refuse to present me to this lady? I do not need it," and he let
go his arm.
"You are mad!" cried the Hereditary Prince, holding him back.
"I was never more in my senses," rejoined Victor.
He hastened up to a tree, the low branches of which nearly reached to
the window, and with the agility of a cat he climbed up to the top.
Ilse looked up and perceived the Hereditary Prince, and an officer
climbing up a tree. She withdrew from the window. Victor broke off a
switch, and touched one of the panes. A bell rang, a window was opened,
and Gabriel looked out.
"Always in the air, your Excellence?" he cried out; "what are your
Excellence's commands?"
"Tender my respectful compliments to your mistress, and request her to
favor me with a moment's interview upon urgent business."
Ilse appeared, with her usual serious countenance, at the window, the
servant behind her. The young gentleman held on fast by one hand, and
raised the other to his cap.
"I beg your pardon. Madam, for choosing this unnatural way of
presenting myself to you, but my cousin down there has sent me up here
against my will."
"If you fall, Sir, you may take with you the full conviction that it
was unnecessary to climb the tree: the door of the house is always
open."
Ilse retreated, and Victor bowed again.
"The lady is quite of my opinion," he cried out, reprovingly, to the
Hereditary Prince, "that you have done very wrong in keeping me from
the door."
"There is no way of getting out of this scrape but by going in at once,
and apologizing," replied the Hereditary Prince.
"That is exactly what I wish," cried Victor. "One must always let
people know what they want."
The Princes entered the house together, and Ilse received them with a
silent curtsy.
"This is the gentleman," began the Hereditary Prince, "of whom, Mrs.
Werner, I have often spoken to you. As a boy he was always called, by
those who knew his character, Master Madcap."
"Your Highness should not have acted so," returned Ilse, sorrowfully;
"I am a stranger here, and more exposed to misrepresentation than
others." She then turned to the Hereditary Prince. "It is the first
time that I have seen your Highness since your recovery."
"I am in danger of being again banished from your presence," replied
the Hereditary Prince, "and it has been your wish."
Ilse looked at him surprised.
"You have imparted to my father the purport of a conversation that I
once had with you," continued the Hereditary Prince, in a tone of
vexation. "You have thus caused my father to determine that I shall be
removed from here into the country."
"I would not on any account that your Highness should believe me
capable of betraying a confidence. If the harmless words I spoke to
your father were contrary to your wishes, I can only say, in excuse,
that they proceeded from the warmest interest in your Highness."
The Hereditary Prince bowed silently.
"This terzetto is composed of only dissonances," exclaimed Victor. "We
are all three vexed at each other,--I most of all, for my disobliging
cousin has exposed me to the danger of entirely losing your favor,
without having first had the opportunity of winning it. Yet I beg
permission at some future time to introduce myself in a better light
than amongst the foliage of the tree."
The Princes took leave. When they were clear of the house, Victor said:
"I would like to get a little straight in this matter of the
Professor's wife. I perceive now that it is in no case advisable for me
to lay my homage openly at her feet. Do not be angry with me, Benno,--I
will spoil no man's game; if you can make use of me, I am at your
service."
The Hereditary Prince remained standing, and looked so sorrowfully at
his cousin that even he became serious.
"If you would do me a service for which I should thank you as long as I
live, help me to procure the departure of those that dwell in that
house, from this country as quickly as possible. It will bring them no
good fortune to remain near us."
"Say it right out: they will believe you sooner than me."
"What reason shall I give?" asked the Hereditary Prince. "There is only
one, and I am the last who should venture to express it."
"The lady looks as if she could take care of herself," said Victor,
consolingly. "I am more anxious about you. I see you are in danger of
being for once of the same mind as your father. Will you not at least
venture to raise objections to his sending you away?"
"By what right?" asked the Hereditary Prince; "he is my father, Victor,
and my sovereign. I am the first of his subjects, and it becomes me to
be the most obedient. So long as he does not command me to do anything
which is against my conscience, I am in duty bound to obey him at once.
That is the rule of conduct that I have laid down for myself from my
own convictions."
"But let us suppose," rejoined Victor, "that a father wishes to remove
his son in order to devise mischief against another, in whom his son
takes an interest?"