your Highness should ever be in the position to seek for an assistant
in government, I could not accept this dignity with a good conscience
unless your Highness's subjects had all been passed through the
bookbinder's press, and wore little coats of pasteboard, and had on
their backs labels that told the contents of each."
The Princess laughed, but her eyes rested with deep feeling on the
honest countenance of the man. She rose and approached him.
"You are always true, open, and high-minded."
"Thanks for your judgment," replied the Professor, much pleased. "Even
your Highness treats me like a spirit that dwells in a book; you praise
me as openly as if I did not understand the words that you speak. I beg
permission to convey to your Highness my feelings also in a review."
"What I am like, I do not wish to hear from you," exclaimed the
Princess; "for you would, in spite of the harmlessness which you boast
of, end by reading me as plainly as if I had a morocco-covered back and
gilt edges. But I am serious when I praise you. Yes, Mr. Werner, since
you have been with us I have attained to a better understanding of the
value of life. You do not know what an advantage it is for me to have
intercourse with a mind which, undisturbed by the little trifles around
it, only serves its high goddess of Truth. The turmoil of daily life
bears hard upon us, and perplexes us; those by whom I am surrounded,
even the best of them, all think and care about themselves, and make
convenient compacts between their feeling of duty and their egotism.
But in you I perceive unselfishness and the incessant devotion of
yourself to the highest labor of man. There is something great and
lofty in this that overpowers me with admiration. I feel the worth of
such an existence, like a new light that penetrates my soul. Never have
I known any one about me so inspired with heaven in his breast. That is
my review of you, Professor Werner; it is, perhaps, not well written,
but it comes from my heart."
The eyes of the learned man shone as he looked at the enthusiastic
countenance of the princely child, but he was silent. There was a long
pause. The Princess turned away, and bent over her books. At last she
began, with gentle voice:
"You are going to your daily work, I will do so also. Before you leave
me, I beg of you to be my instructor: I have marked a place in the work
no art that you had the kindness to bring from the library, which I
could not quite understand."
The Professor took the open book from her hand, and laughed.
"This is the theory of quite a different art; it is not the right
book."
The Princess read, "How to make blanc-mange." She opened the title
page: "Common-sense cook-book of an old Nuremberg cook." She turned the
book round with astonishment; it was the same simple binding.
"How does this come here?" she exclaimed, with vexation, and rang for
her maid.
"No one has been here," said the latter, "except the Princes, a short
time ago."
"Ah!" exclaimed the Princess, depressed. "Then there is no hope. We are
now under the dominion of a mischievous spirit, and must wait till our
book returns. Farewell, Mr. Werner; if the mischievous spirit restores
me the book I shall call you back."
When the Professor had taken leave, the maid came back alarmed and
brought the lost Archaeology in a sad condition. The book was in the
cage of the monkey. Giocco had studied it industriously, and was
furious when the volume was taken away from him.
At the same hour the Chamberlain was standing before the Sovereign.
"Your friends from the University have domesticated themselves with us;
I take for granted that you have done your best to make our city
agreeable to them."
"Professor Werner appears well contented," replied the Chamberlain,
with reserve.
"Has your sister Malwine made the acquaintance of the Professor's
wife?"
"Unfortunately my sister has been obliged to nurse a sick aunt in the
country."
"That is a pity," replied the Sovereign; "she may have reason to regret
this accident. Some time ago you expressed your opinion that some
practical occupation would be beneficial to the Hereditary Prince; I
have considered the matter. It will be necessary to find the means of a
temporary residence in the district of Rossau. The old forester's lodge
will not be ill adapted to it. I have determined by additional building
to change the house into a habitable residence. The Hereditary Prince
must be on the spot to plan the building according to his wishes, and
you will accompany him. The architect has orders to draw the plans
according to the Prince's directions. I only wish to speak to him about
the proposed estimate. Meanwhile the Hereditary Prince will occupy the
rooms that are reserved for me in the forester's lodge. But as the
building will not take up his whole time, he may employ his leisure in
obtaining an insight into our agricultural methods, at the farm
of the adjoining proprietor. He should learn about field-work and
book-keeping. The year is already far advanced, which makes a speedy
departure advisable. I hope this arrangement will meet a wish that you
have long entertained. The beautiful country and the quiet wood will be
a refreshment to you after your winterwork."
The Chamberlain bowed dismayed before his master, who so graciously
pronounced his banishment from Court. He hastened to the Hereditary
Prince and related the bad tidings.
"It is exile!" he exclaimed, beside himself.
"Make your preparations speedily," replied the Hereditary Prince
quietly. "I am prepared to go at once."
The Hereditary Prince went to his father.
"I will do what you command, and make every effort to please you. If
you, as a father, consider this residence in a distant place useful, I
feel that you understand better than I what will be beneficial for my
future. But," he continued, with hesitation, "I cannot go from here
without making a request which I have much at heart."
"Speak, Benno," said the Sovereign, graciously.
"I beg of you to permit the Professor and his wife to depart as quickly
as possible from the neighborhood of the Court."
"Why so?" asked the Sovereign sharply.
"Their residence here is hurtful to Mrs. Werner. Her reputation is
endangered by the unusual position in which she is placed. I owe him
and her great gratitude; their happiness is a matter of concern to me,
and I am tormented by the thought that their stay in our parts
threatens to disturb the peace of their life."
"And why does your gratitude fear a disturbance of the happiness that
is so dear to you?" asked the Sovereign.
"It is said that the Pavillion is a fateful residence for an honorable
woman," replied the Hereditary Prince, decidedly.
"If what you call honor is endangered by her dwelling there, then that
virtue is easily lost," said the Sovereign, bitterly.
"It is not the dwelling alone," continued the Hereditary Prince; "the
ladies of the Court have been quite reserved in their conduct toward
her; she is ill spoken of: gossip and calumny are busy in fabricating a
false representation of her innocent life."
"I hear with astonishment," said the Sovereign, "the lively interest
you take in the stranger; yet, if I am rightly informed, you yourself
during this time have shown her little chivalrous attention."
"I have not done so," exclaimed the Hereditary Prince, "because I have
felt myself bound to avoid, at least so far as I was concerned, any
conduct that might injure her. I saw the jeering looks of our gentlemen
when she arrived; I heard their derogatory words about the new beauty
who was shut up in that house, and my heart beat with shame and anger.
Therefore I have painfully controlled myself; I have feigned
indifference before those about me, and I have been cold in my demeanor
towards her; but, my father, it has been a hard task to me, and I have
felt deep and bitter anxiety in the past few weeks; for the happiest
hours of my life at college were passed in her society."
The Sovereign had turned away; he now showed his son a smiling
countenance.
"So that was the reason of your reserve. I had forgotten that you had
reached the age of tender susceptibility and were inclined to expend
more emotion and sentiment on your relations to women than is good for
you. Yet I could envy you this. Unfortunately, life does not long
retain its sensitive feelings." He approached the Prince, and
continued, good-humoredly: "I do not deny, Benno, that in your interest
I regarded the arrival of our visitors differently. For a prince of
your nature there is perhaps nothing so fraught with culture as the
tender feeling for a woman who makes no demands on the external life of
her friend, and yet gives him all the charm of an intimate union of
soul. Love affairs with ladies of the Court or with assuming intrigants
would be dangerous for you; you must be on your guard that the woman to
whom you devote yourself will not trifle with you and selfishly make
use of you for her own ends. From all that I knew, your connection with
the lady in the Pavilion was just what would be advantageous for your
future life. From reasons of which I have full appreciation, you have
avoided accepting this idyllic relation. You yourself have not chosen
what I, with the best intentions, prepared for you; it seems to me,
therefore, that you have lost the right in this affair to express any
wishes whatever."
"Father," exclaimed the Hereditary Prince, horrified, and wringing his
hands, "your saying this to me is indeed unkind. I had a dark
foreboding that the invitation to them had some secret object in view.
I have struggled with this suspicion, and blamed myself for it; now I
am dismayed with the thought that I myself am the innocent cause of
this misfortune to these good people. Your words give me the right to
repeat my request: let them go as soon as possible, or you will make
your son miserable."
"I perceive an entirely new phase of your character," replied the
Sovereign; "and I am thankful to you for the insight that you have at
last accorded me into your silent nature. You are either a fantastical
dreamer, or you have a talent for diplomacy that I have never
attributed to you."
"I have never been other than candid to you," exclaimed the Hereditary
Prince.
"Shall the lady return to her home at Bielstein to be saved?" asked the
Sovereign mockingly.
"No," replied the Hereditary Prince, in a low tone.
"Your demand scarcely deserves an answer," continued the father. "The
strangers have been called here for a certain time. The husband is not
in my service. I am neither in a position to send them away, as they
have given me no reason for dissatisfaction, nor to keep them here
against their will."
"Forgive me, my father," exclaimed the Hereditary Prince. "You have
yourself, by the gracious attention which you daily show to the wife,
by your civil gifts and frequent visits, occasioned the Court to think
that you take a special personal interest in her."
"Is the Court so busy in reporting to you what I, through the
unbecoming conduct of others, have thought fit to do?" asked the
Sovereign.
"Little is reported to me of what those about us say, and be assured
that I do not lend a ready ear to their conjectures; but it is
inevitable that I sometimes must hear what occupies them all and makes
them all indignant. They venture to maintain even, that every one who
does not show her attention is in disgrace with you; and they think
that they show special firmness of character and respectability in
refusing to be civil to her. You, as well as she, are threatened with
calumny. Forgive me, my father, for being thus frank. You yourself have
by your favor brought the lady into this dangerous position, and
therefore it lies with you to deliver her from it."
"The Court always becomes virtuous when its master selects for
distinction a lady who does not belong to their circle; and you will
soon learn the value of such strict morals," replied the Sovereign. "It
must be a strong sentiment, Benno, which drives your timid nature to
the utmost limits of the freedom of speech that is allowable from a son
to a father."
The pale face of the Hereditary Prince colored.
"Yes, my father," he cried, "hear what to every other ear will remain a
secret; I love that lady with fervent and devoted heart. I would with
pleasure make the greatest sacrifice in my power for her. I have felt
the power that the beauty and innocence of a woman can exercise on a
man. More than once have I strengthened myself by contact with her pure
spirit. I was happy when near her, and unhappy when I could not look
into her eyes. For a whole year I have thought in secret of her, and in
this sorrowful feeling I have grown to be a man. That I have now
courage to speak thus to you, I owe to the influence which she has
exercised upon me. I know, my father, how unhappy such a passion makes
one; I know the misery of being for ever deprived of the woman one
loves. The thought of the peace of her pure soul alone has sustained me
in hours of bitterness. Now you know all. I have confided my secret to
you and I beg of you, my Sovereign and father, to receive this
confidence with indulgence. If you have hitherto cared for my welfare,
now is the time when you can show me the highest proof of our
sincerity. Honor the woman who is loved by your unhappy son."
The countenance of the Sovereign had changed while his son was
speaking, and the latter was terrified at its menacing expression.
"Seek, for your tale, the ear of some knight-errant who eagerly drinks
the water into which a tear of his lady-love has dropped."
"Yes, I seek your knightly help, my liege and Sovereign," cried the
Hereditary Prince, beside himself. "I conjure you, do not let me
implore you in vain. I call upon you, as the head of our illustrious
house, and as a member of the order whose device we both wear, to do a
service to me and for her. Do not refuse her your support in her
danger."
"We are not attending a mediaeval ceremony," replied the Sovereign,
coldly, "and your speech does not accord with the tone of practical
life. I have not desired your confidence--you have thrust it upon me in
too bold a manner. Do not wonder that your father is angry with your
presumptuous speech, and that your Sovereign dismisses you with
displeasure."
The Hereditary Prince turned pale and stepped back.
"The anger of my father and the displeasure of my Sovereign are
misfortunes which I feel deeply; but still more fearful to me is the
thought, that here at Court an injury is done to an innocent person--an
injury in which I must have a share. However heavily your anger may
fall upon me, yet I must tell you that you have exposed the lady to
misrepresentation, and as long as I stand before you I will repeat it,
and not desist from my request to remove her from here, for the sake of
her honor and ours."
"As your words flutter ceaselessly about the same empty phantom,"
replied the Sovereign, "it is time to put an end to this conversation.
You will depart at once, and leave it to time to enable me to forget,
if I ever can do so, what I have heard from you to-day. Till then you
may reflect in solitude on your folly, in wishing to play the part of
guardian to strangers who are quite in a position to take care of
themselves."
The Hereditary Prince bowed.
"Has my most Sovereign liege any commands for me?" he asked, with
trembling lips.
The Sovereign replied sullenly:
"It only remains to you how to excite the ill-will of the strangers
against your father."
"Your Highness knows that such conduct would not become me."
The Sovereign waved his hand, and his son departed with a silent bow.
Immediately upon quitting the apartment of the father, the Prince
ordered his carriage, and then hastened to his sister. The Princess
looked anxiously into his disturbed countenance.
"You are going away?" she exclaimed.
"Farewell!" he said, holding out his hand to her. "I am going into the
country to build a new castle for us in case we should wish to change
the scene of action."
"When do you return, Benno?"
The Hereditary Prince shrugged his shoulders.
"When the Sovereign commands. My task is now to become something of an
architect and farmer; this is a useful occupation. Farewell, Sidonie.
If chance should bring you together with Mrs. Werner, I would be
greatly indebted to you if you would not attend to the gossip of the
Court, but remember that she is a worthy lady, and that I owe her a
great debt of gratitude."
"Are you dissatisfied with me, my brother?" asked the Princess,
anxiously.
"Make reparation for it, Siddy, as best you can. Farewell!"
Prince Victor accompanied him to the carriage. The Hereditary Prince
clasped his hand, and looked significantly towards the Pavilion. Victor
nodded. "That's my opinion too," he said. "Before I go back to my
garrison I will visit you in the land of cat-tails. I expect to find
you as a brother hermit, with a long beard and a cap made of tree-bark.
Farewell, Knight Toggenburg, and learn there that the best philosophy
on earth is to consider every day as lost on which one cannot do some
foolish trick. If one does not do this business one's self, others will
take the trouble off one's hands. It is always more pleasant to be the
hammer than the anvil."
* * *
The Sovereign was gloomy and silent at dinner; only short remarks fell
from his lips, and sometimes a bitter jest, from which one remarked
that he was striving for composure; the Court understood that this
unpleasant mood was connected with the departure of the Hereditary
Prince, and every one took care not to irritate him. The Professor
alone was able to draw a smile from him, when he good-humoredly told
about the enchanted castle, Solitude. After dinner the Sovereign
conversed with one of his aides-de-camp as well as the Professor. The
latter turned to the High Steward; and although he usually avoided the
reserved politeness of the man, he on this occasion asked him some
indifferent questions. The High Steward answered civilly that the
Marshal, who was close by, could give him the best information, and he
changed his place. Immediately afterwards the Sovereign walked straight
through the company to the High Steward, and drew him into the recess
of the window, and began:
"You accompanied me on my first journey to Italy, and, if I am not
mistaken, partook a little of my fondness for antiquities. Our
collection is being newly arranged and a catalogue fully prepared."
The High Steward expressed his acknowledgment of this princely
liberality.
"Professor Werner is very active," continued the Sovereign; "it is
delightful to see how well he understands to arrange the specimens."
The High Steward remained silent.
"Your Excellency will remember how when in Italy we were much amused at
the enthusiasm of collectors who, luring strangers into their cabinets,
wildly gesticulated and rhapsodized over some illegible inscription.
Like most other men, our guest is also afflicted with a hobby. He
suspected that an old manuscript lay concealed in a house in our
principality; therefore he married the daughter of the proprietor; and
as, in spite of that, he did not find the treasure, he is now secretly
seeking this phantasm in the old garrets of the palace. Has he never
spoken to you of it?"
"I have as yet had no occasion to seek his confidence," replied the
High Steward.
"Then you have missed something," continued the Sovereign; "in his way
he speaks well and readily about it; it will amuse you to examine more
closely this species of folly. Come presently with him into my study."
The High Steward bowed; and on the breaking up of the party, informed
the Professor that the Sovereign wished to speak to him.
The gentlemen entered the Sovereign's apartment, in order to afford him
an hour of entertainment.
"I have told his Excellency," the Sovereign began, "that you have a
special object of interest which you pursue like a sportsman. How about
the manuscript?"
The Professor related his new discovery of the two chests.
"The next hunting-ground which I hope to try will be the garrets and
rooms in the summer castle of the Princess; if these yield me no booty,
I would hardly know of any place that has not been searched."
"I shall be delighted if you soon attain your object," said the
Sovereign, looking at the High Steward. "I assume that the discovery of
this manuscript will be of great importance for your own professional
career. Of course you will consent to publish the same."
"It would be the noblest task that could fall to my lot," replied the
Professor, "always supposing that your Highness would graciously
entrust the work to me."
"You shall undertake the work, and no other," replied the Sovereign,
laughing, "so far as I have the right to decide it. So the invisible
book will be really of great importance to learning?"
"The greatest importance. The contents of it will be of the highest
value to every scholar. I think it would also interest your Highness,"
said the Professor, innocently, "for the Roman Tacitus is in a certain
sense a Court historian; the main point of his narrative is the
characters of the Emperors who, in the first century of our era,
decided the fate of the old world. It is indeed, on the whole, a
sorrowful picture."
"Did he belong to the hostile party?" inquired the Sovereign.
"He is the great narrator of the peculiar deformity of character found
in the sovereigns of the ancient world; we have to thank him for a
series of psychological studies of a malady that then developed itself
on the throne."
"That is new to me," replied the Sovereign, fidgeting on his chair.
"Your Highness will, I am convinced, view the various forms of this
mental malady with the greatest sympathy, and will find in other
periods of the past--nay, even in the earlier civilization of our own
people--many remarkable parallel cases."
"Do you speak of a special malady that only befalls rulers?" asked the
Sovereign; "physicians will be grateful to you for this discovery."
"In fact," answered the Professor, eagerly, "the fearful importance of
this phenomenon is far too little estimated; no other has exercised
such an immeasurable influence on the fate of nations. The destruction
by pestilence and war is small in comparison with the fatal devastation
of nations which has been occasioned by this special misfortune of the
rulers. For this malady, which raged long after Tacitus among the Roman
emperors, is not an ailing that is confined to ancient Rome--it is
undoubtedly as old as the despotisms of the human race; even later it
has been the lot of numerous rulers in Christian states; it has
produced deformed and grotesque characters in every period; it has been
for thousands of years the worm enclosed in the brain, consuming the
marrow of the head, destroying the judgment and corroding the moral
feelings, until at last nothing remained but the hollow glitter of
life. Sometimes it became madness which could be proved by medical men,
but in numerous other cases the capacity for practical life did not
cease and the secret mischief was carefully concealed. There were
periods when only occasional firmly-established minds preserved their
full healthy vigor; and again other centuries when the heads that wore
a diadem inhaled a fresh atmosphere from the people. I am convinced
that he whose vocation it is to investigate accurately the conditions
of later times will, in the course of his studies, discover the same
malady under a milder form. My life lies far from these observations,
but the Roman state undoubtedly shows the strangest forms of the
malady; for there were the widest relations, and such a powerful
development of human nature both in virtue and vice as has seldom since
been found in history."
"It seems to be a particular pleasure to the learned gentlemen to bring
to light these sufferings of former rulers," said the Sovereign.
"They are certainly instructive for all times," continued the
Professor, confidently, "for by fearful example they impress upon one
the truth that the higher a man's position is, the greater is the
necessity of barriers to restrain the arbitrariness of his nature. Your
Highness's independent judgment and rich experience will enable you to
discern, more distinctly than any one in my sphere of life, that the
phenomena of this malady always show themselves where the ruling powers
have less to fear and to honor than other mortals. What preserves a man
in ordinary situations is that he feels himself at every moment of his
life under strict and incessant control; his friends, the law, and the
interest of others surround him on all sides, they demand imperiously
that he should conform his thoughts and will by rules which secure the
welfare of others. At all times the power of these fetters is less
effective on the ruler; he can easily cast off what confines him, an
ungracious movement of the hand frightens the monitor forever from his
side. From morning to evening he is surrounded by persons who
accommodate themselves to him; no friend reminds him of his duty, no
law punishes him. Hundreds of examples teach us that former rulers,
even amidst great outward success, suffered from inward ravages, where
they were not guarded by a strong public opinion, or incessantly
constrained by the powerful participation of the people in the state.
We cannot but think of the gigantic power of a general and conqueror
whose successes and victories brought devastation and excessive sin
into his own life; he became a fearful sham, a liar to himself and a
liar to the world before he was overthrown, and long before he died. To
investigate similar cases is, as I said, not my vocation."
"No," said the Sovereign, in a faint voice.
"The distant time," began the High Steward, "of which you speak, was a
sad epoch for the people as well as the rulers. If I am not mistaken a
feeling of decay was general, and the admired writers were of little
value; at least it appears to me that Apuleius and Lucan were frivolous
and deplorably vulgar men."
The Professor looked surprised at the courtier.
"In my youth such authors were much read," he continued. "I do not
blame the better ones of that period, when they turned away with
disgust at such doings, and withdrew into the most retired private
life, or into the Theban wilderness. Therefore when you speak of a
malady of the Roman emperors, I might retort that it was only the
result of the monstrous malady of the people; although I see quite well
that during this corruption individuals accomplished a great advance in
the human race, the freeing the people from the exclusiveness of
nationality to the unity of culture, and the new ideal which was
brought upon earth by Christianity."
"Undoubtedly the form of the state, and the style of culture which each
individual emperor found, were decisive for his life. Every one is, in
this sense, the child of his own time, and when it is a question of
judging the measure of his guilt, it is fitting to weigh cautiously
such considerations. But what I had the honor of pointing out to his
Highness as the special merit of Tacitus, is only the masterly way with
which he describes the peculiar symptoms and course of the Caesarean
insanity."
"They were all mad," interrupted the Sovereign, with a hoarse voice.
"Pardon, gracious Sir," rejoined the Professor, innocently. "Augustus
became a better man on the throne, and almost a century after the time
of Tacitus there were good and moderate rulers. But something of the
curse which unlimited power exercises on the soul may be discovered in
most of the Roman emperors. In the better ones it was like a malady
which seldom showed itself, but was restrained by good sense or a good
disposition. Many of them indeed were utterly corrupted, and in them
the malady developed in definite gradation, the law of which one can
easily understand."
"Then you also know how these people were at heart!" said the
Sovereign, looking shyly at the Professor.
The High Steward retreated towards a window.
"It is not difficult in general to follow the course of the malady,"
replied the Professor, engrossed with his subject. "The first accession
to power has an elevating tendency. The highest earthly vocation raises
even narrow-minded men like Claudius; depraved villians like Caligula,
Nero, and Domitian, showed a certain nobleness at first. There is an
eager desire to please, and strenuous exertion to establish themselves
by graciousness; a fear of influential persons or of the opposition of
the masses compels a certain moderation. But arbitrary power has made
men slaves, and the slavish feeling shows itself in an abject
veneration which puts the emperor on a pinnacle above other men; he is
treated as if specially favored by the gods, nay, as if his soul was an
emanation of godly power. Amid this adoration by all, and the security
of power, egotism soon increases. The accidental demands of an
unrestrained will become reckless, the soul gradually loses the power
of distinguishing between good and evil; his personal wishes appear to
the ruler henceforth as the necessity of the state, and every whim of
the moment must be satisfied. Distrust of all who are independent leads
to senseless suspicion; he who will not be pliant is set aside as an
enemy, and he who adapts himself with suppleness is sure to exercise a
mastery over his master. Family bonds are severed, the nearest
relations are watched as secret enemies, the deceptive show of hearty
confidence is maintained, but suddenly some evil deed breaks through
the veil that hypocrisy has drawn over a hollow existence."
The Sovereign slowly drew back his chair from the fire into the dark.
"The idea of the Roman state at last entirely vanishes from the soul,
only personal dependence is required; true devotion to the state
becomes a crime. This helplessness, and the cessation of the power of
judging of the worth--nay, even of the attachment of men--betoken an
advance of the malady by which all sense of accountability is impaired.
Now the elements of which the character is formed become more
contracted and onesided, the will more frivolous and paltry. A childish
weakness becomes perceptible; pleasure in miserable trifles and empty
jokes, together with knavish tricks which destroy without aim; it
becomes enjoyment not only to torment and see the torments of others,
but also an irresistible pleasure to drag all that is venerated down to
a common level. It is very remarkable how, in consequence of this decay
of thought, an unquiet and destructive sensuality takes the place of
all. Its dark power becomes overmastering, and instead of the honorable
old age which gives dignity even to the weak, we are disgusted by the
repugnant picture of decrepit debauchees, like Tiberius and Claudius.
The last powers of life are destroyed by shameless and refined
profligacy."
"That is very remarkable," repeated the Sovereign, mechanically.
The Professor concluded: "Thus are accomplished the four gradations of
ruin; first, gigantic egotism; then suspicion and hypocrisy; then
childish senselessness; and, lastly, repugnant excesses."
The Sovereign rose slowly from his chair; he tottered, and the High
Steward drew near to him terrified, but he supported himself with his
hand on the arm of the chair, and, turning languidly to the Professor
without looking at him, said, slowly:
"I thank the gentleman for a pleasant hour."
One could perceive the effort which it cost him to bring out the words.
In going out the Professor asked in a low tone of the High Steward:
"I fear I have wearied the Sovereign by this long discussion?"
The High Steward looked with astonishment at the frank countenance of
the scholar:
"I do not doubt that the Sovereign will very soon show you that he has
listened with attention."
When they were on the stairs they heard a hoarse, discordant sound in
the distance; the old gentleman shuddered, and leaned against the wall.
The Professor listened; all was still.
"It was like the cry of a wild beast."
"The sound came from the street," replied the High Steward.
_CHAPTER XXXIII_.
CAESAREAN INSANITY IN THE HUMMEL FAMILY.
Mr. Hahn was walking by the side of his garden fence, his soul filled
with gratitude; but as this was prevented from escaping through the
usual outlet of friendly speech, it compelled him to take refuge in
those chambers of his mind in which he kept the plans for the
beautifying of his garden. His noble-hearted opponent was about to
celebrate his birthday; this Mr. Hahn discovered in a roundabout way.
On this day he might perhaps be able to show him some secret token of
esteem. The greatest treasures in Mr. Hahn's garden were his standards
and bush roses of every size and color,--splendid flowers which bloomed
almost the whole year, and were much admired by the passers-by. They
were all in pots, his delight was to move them about in the garden
himself, and arrange them ornamentally in different groups. These roses
he determined to dedicate as a quiet mark of homage to Mr. Hummel. He
had long lamented a desolate space in the middle of his enemy's garden;
it had lain bare the whole summer as a place of repose for the brindle
dog or a roving cat. When Mr. Hummel should enter his garden on his
birthday he should find the round bed changed into a blooming circle of
roses.
This thought occasioned Mr. Hahn happy hours, and raised him a little
from the depth of his sorrows. He carried the roses into a concealed
corner, arranged them in rank and file according to their size and
color, and wrote their numbers with chalk on the pots. The park-keeper,
whose house stood at the extreme limit of the city by the river, had a
little boat; this Mr. Hahn borrowed secretly for a few hours in the
night. Before the early dawn of morning, on the birthday of his enemy,
he slipped out of the house, rowed the pots in the boat to the small
steps which led from the water-side into the garden of Mr. Hummel; he
glided with his loved roses to the circular bed, arranged them
noiselessly according to their numbers, planted each separately, and
changed the desert spot into a blooming parterre of roses. When the
sparrows in the gutters twittered out their first querulous abuse, he
had smoothed down the earth in the bed with a small rake. He cast a
look of pleasure on his work, and another on the still dusky outline of
the house, within which Mr. Hummel still slept, unprepared for the
surprise of the morning, and then glided with his spade and empty pots
into his boat, rowed himself up to the house of the park-keeper, and
concealed himself and his garden utensils on his own ground before the
first rays of the rising sun painted his chimney with roseate colors.
Mr. Hummel entered his sitting-room at the usual hour, received with
good-humor the congratulations of his ladies, looked graciously at the
birthday cake which wife Philippine had placed with his coffee, and at
the travelling-bag which Laura had embroidered for him, took his
newspaper in his hand, and prepared himself by participation in the
political concerns of men in general, for the business of his own life.
All this passed off well; in his factory and in his office he received
congratulations like a lamb; he stroked the snarling dog, and wrote
business letters full of respect to his customers. When towards the
middle of the day he returned to his ladies, and the Doctor entered his
room to offer his congratulations, a dark cloud gathered on the sunny
countenance of the master of the house, and lightning flashed from
under his ambrosial eyebrows.
"What, Saul among the prophets! Are you come to fetch a lost ass back
to your father's house? We cannot accommodate you. Or are you going to
deliver a lecture upon the language of the orang-outang in the land of
the cocoas?
"My lectures have not caused you any trouble so far," replied the
Doctor. "I have not come in order that your hospitable politeness
should take the trouble to entertain those present by the outpouring of
your good humor. I have already expressed to you my wish never to be
the object of it."
"Then defend yourself if you can," cried Hummel.
"I am only prevented," replied the Doctor, "by consideration for those
present from giving you in your own house the answer which you seem to
wish."
"I should be sorry if you were placed at any disadvantage in my house,"
replied Hummel. "I propose to you, therefore, to put yourself on an
equal footing with me, by remaining in your own house and putting your
head out of the window. I will do the same; we can then sing out to one
another across the street, like two canary birds."
"But as I am here now," said the Doctor, with a bow, "I claim to be
allowed to eat this piece of birthday cake in peace among friendly
faces."
"Then I beg of you to resign the sight of my face without overpowering
sorrow," replied Hummel.
He opened the door into the garden, and went down the steps
discontentedly. While still at a distance he saw the young group of
roses smiling innocently in the light of the sun. He walked round the
spot, shook his head, and invited his ladies into the garden.
"Which of you got this idea?" he asked.
The ladies showed such lively surprise that he was convinced of their
innocence. He called to the old storekeeper and the book-keeper. All
showed entire ignorance. The countenance of Mr. Hummel became gloomy.
"What does this mean? Some one has slipped in here while we were
asleep. Night garden-work is not to my taste. Who has ventured to enter
my property without permission? Who has brought in these products of
nature?"
He went restlessly along the side of the water: behind him followed
Spitehahn. The dog crept down the steps to the water, smelt at a bit of
brown wood which lay on the last step, came up again, turned towards
the house of Mr. Hahn, and set up his back like a cat, mockingly, and
made a snarling noise. It meant as clearly as if he had spoken the
friendly words, "I wish you a pleasant meal."
"Right," cried Hummel; "the intruder has left the handle of the rudder
behind. The brown handle belongs to the boat of the park-keeper. Take
it over to him, Klaus. I demand an answer; who has ventured to bring
his boat alongside here?"
The storekeeper hastened away with the piece of wood, and brought back
the answer with an embarrassed air:
"Mr. Hahn had borrowed the boat in the night."
"If there are forebodings," cried Hummel, angrily, "this was one. This
nocturnal prowling of your father I forbid under all circumstances," he
continued, to the Doctor.
"I know nothing of it," rejoined the Doctor. "If my father has done
this, I beg of you, even if you do not value the roses, to be pleased
with the good intention."
"I protest against every rose that may be strewed on my path," cried
Hummel. "First we had poisoned dumplings, with evil intentions; and now
rose leaves, with good ones. Your father should think of something else
than such jokes. The ground and soil are mine, and I intend to prevent
roosters from scratching here."
He charged wildly into the roses, seized hold of stems and branches,
tore them out of the ground, and threw them into a confused heap.
The Doctor turned gloomily away, but Laura hastened to her father and
looked angrily into his hard face.
"What you have rooted up," she exclaimed, "I will replace with my own
hands."
She ran to a corner of the garden, brought some pots, knelt down on the
ground, and pressed the stems with the little balls of earth into them
as eagerly as her father had rooted them up.
"I will take care of them," she called out, to the Doctor; "tell your
dear father that not all in our house undervalue his friendship."
"Do what you cannot help," replied Mr. Hummel, more quietly. "Klaus,
why do you stand there on your hind legs staring like a tortoise? Why
do you not help Miss Hummel in her garden-work. Then carry the whole
birthday-present back again to the youthful flower-grower. My
compliments, and he must in the darkness have mistaken the gardens."
He turned his back upon the company, and went with heavy steps to his
office. Laura knelt on the ground and worked at the ill-used roses with
heightened color and gloomy determination. The Doctor helped silently.
He had seen his father behind the hedge, and knew how deeply the poor
man would feel this latest outburst on the part of his adversary. Laura
did not desist till she had put all the flowers as well as possible
into the pots; then she plunged her hands into the stream, and her
tears mixed with the water. She led the Doctor back to the room; there
she wrung her hands, quite beside herself.
"Life is horrible; our happiness is destroyed in this miserable
quarrel. Only one thing can save you and me. You are a man, and must
find out what can deliver us from this misery."
She rushed out of the room; the mother beckoned eagerly to the Doctor
to remain behind, when he was on the point of following.
"She is beside herself," cried Fritz. "What do her words mean? What
does she desire of me?"
The mother seated herself on the sofa, embarrassed and full of anxiety,
cleared her throat, and twisted at her sleeves.
"I must confide something to you, Doctor," she began, hesitatingly,
"which will be very painful to us both; but I know not what to do, and
all the representations that I make to my unhappy child are in vain.
Not to conceal anything from you,--it is a strange freak,--and I should
have thought such a thing impossible."
She stopped and concealed her face in her pocket-handkerchief. Fritz
looked anxiously at the disturbed face of Mrs. Hummel. A secret of
Laura's that he had for weeks foreboded was now to fall destructively
on his hopes.
"I will confess all to you, dear Doctor," continued the mother, with
many sighs. "Laura esteems you beyond measure, and the thought of
becoming your wife--I must say it in confidence--is not strange or
disagreeable to her. But she has a fearful idea in her head, and I am
ashamed to express it."
"Speak out," said the Doctor, in despair.
"Laura wishes you to elope with her."
Fritz was dazed.
"It is scarcely for a mother to express this wish to you, but I do not
know how to do otherwise."
"But where to?" cried the Doctor, quite aghast.
"That is the most painful part of all, as you yourself must
acknowledge. What put the idea into her head, whether poetry, or
reading about the great world in the newspapers, I know not. But to her
frame of mind, which is always excited and tragic, I can oppose no
resistance. I am afraid to impart it to my husband. I conjure you to do
what you can to calm my child. Her feelings are wounded, and I can no
longer resist the inward struggle for this young heart."
"I beg permission," replied the Doctor, "to speak immediately with
Laura on the subject."
Without waiting for the mother's answer, he hastened up the stairs to
Laura's room. He knocked, but receiving no answer, opened the door.
Laura was sitting by her writing-table, sobbing violently.
"Dear, sweet Laura," exclaimed the Doctor, "I have been speaking with
your mother; let me know all."
Laura started.
"Every warm feeling is rejected with scorn, every hour that I see you
is embittered by the hostility of my father. The heart of the poorest
maiden palpitates when she hears the voice of the man she loves: but I
must ask, is that the happiness of love? When I do not see you I am in
anxiety about you, and when you come to us I feel tormented, and listen
with terror to every word of my father. I see you joyless and cast
down. Fritz, your love for me, makes you unhappy."
"Patience, Laura," said the Doctor; "let us persevere. My confidence in
your father's heart is greater than yours. He will gradually reconcile
himself to me."
"Yes, after he has broken both our hearts; even great love is crushed
by constant opposition. I cannot, amidst the wrangling of our hostile
families, become your wife; the narrow street and the old hatred are
destructive to me. I have often sat here lamenting that I was not a man
who could boldly battle for his own happiness. Listen to a secret,
Fritz," she said, approaching him, again wringing her hands; "here I am
becoming haughty, malicious, and wicked."
"I have observed nothing of that kind," replied Fritz, astonished.
"I conceal it from you," exclaimed Laura; "but I struggle daily with
bad thoughts, and I am indifferent to the love of my parents. When my
father pats my head, the devil cries within me he had better let it
alone. When my mother admonishes me to have patience, her talk secretly
irritates me, because she uses finer words than are necessary. I hate
the dog, so that I often beat him without cause. The conversation at
the Sunday dinner, the stories of the old actor, and the eternal little
tittle-tattle of the street appear insupportable to me. I feel that I
am an odious creature, and I have frequently in this place wept over
and hated myself. These bad fits are ever recurring and become more
overpowering. I shall never be better here: where we live under a
curse, like two spoiled children. We sink, Fritz, in these
surroundings! Even the loving care of parents ceases to make one
happy--the anxiety that one should not wet one's feet, that one should
wear woolen stockings, and have cakes and sugar plums on a Sunday--is
one to go through all this every year of one's life?"
She hastily opened her journal, and held out to him a bundle of poems
and letters.
"Here are your letters; through these I have learnt to love you, for
here is what I revere in you. Thus would I always have you be. When,
therefore, I think of what you have to go through between our houses
and to bear from my father, and when I observe that you wear a double
shawl under every rough blast, I become anxious and worried about you;
and I see you before me as a pampered book-worm, and myself as a little
stout woman with a large cap and an insignificant face, sitting before
the coffee cups, talking over the daily passers by, and this thought
oppresses my heart."
Fritz recognized his letters. He had long felt certain that Laura was
his secret confidant, but when he now looked at the loved one who held
up to him the secret correspondence, he no longer thought of the
caprice which had occasioned him so much grief; he thought only of the
true-heartedness and of the poetry of this tender connexion.
"Dear, dear Laura," he exclaimed, embracing her; "it seems as if two
souls with which my heart had intercourse had become one, but you now
divide me and yourself into human beings of daily life, and into higher
natures. What has destroyed your cheerful confidence?"
"Our difficulties, Fritz, and the sorrow of seeing you without
pleasure, and hearing your voice without being elevated by it; you are
with me, and yet further off from me than in those days when I did not
see you at all, or only in the society of friends."
She released herself from his embrace.
"Do you love me? and are you the man who has written these? If so,
venture to withdraw me from this captivity. Begin a new life with me. I
will work with you and be self-denying; you shall see of what I am
capable; I will think day and night of how I can earn our maintenance,
that you may be undisturbed by petty cares in your learned work. Be
brisk and bold, cast off your eternal caution, venture for once to do
what others may look at askance."
"If I were to do it," answered Fritz, seriously, "the risk would be
small for me. For you the consequences may be such as you do not think
of. How can you imagine that a rash determination can be good for you
if it throws fresh discord into your soul, and burdens your whole life
with a feeling of guilt towards others?"
"If I take upon myself to do what is wrong," exclaimed Laura, gloomily,
"I do it not for myself alone. I feel but too well that it is wrong,
but I venture it for our love. Never will my father voluntarily lay my
hand in yours. He knows that I am devoted to you, and is not so hard as
to wish my unhappiness, but he cannot overcome his disinclination. One
day he is compelled to acknowledge that you are the man to whom I ought
to belong, the next the bitter feeling of how hateful it is to him
again returns. If you venture to defy him you will do what is really
agreeable to him; show a strong will, and, though he may be angry, he
will easily be appeased by your courage. He loves me," she said in a
low tone, "but he is fearfully hard to others."
"Is he always so?" asked the Doctor. "It is clear the daughter does not
know the full worth of her father. I should at this moment be doing
both him and you an injustice if I were to conceal from you what he
wishes to keep secret. Listen, then: when my poor father was sitting by
me in despair, your father entered our house and gave us in the most
magnanimous way the means of averting the threatened blow. Do you not
know that his sulkiness and quarrelsomeness are frequently only the
expression of a rough humor?"
Laura watched his mouth as if she wished to devour every word that fell
from his lips.
"Did my father do this?" she exclaimed, startled to the utmost,
raising her arms towards heaven, and throwing herself down upon her
writing-table.
Fritz wished to raise her.
"Leave me," she entreated, passionately, "it will pass off. I am happy.
Leave me alone now, beloved one."
The Doctor closed the door gently, and went down to the mother, who
still sat on the sofa overwhelmed with anxiety, revolving in her mind,
with motherly alarm, all the exciting scenes of an elopement.
"I beg of you," he said, "not to worry Laura now by remonstrances. She
will regain her calmness. Trust to her noble heart."
With these wise words the Doctor endeavored to comfort himself.
Meanwhile Laura lay supported against the chair, and thought over her
injustice to her father. For years she had borne the sorrow which is
bitterest to the heart of a child, and now the pressure was taken from
her soul. At last she arose, drew out her diary, tore out one page
after another, crumpled up the leaves and threw them into the fire--a
small sacrifice. She watched it till the last sparks flickered in the
dark ashes, then she closed the stove and hastened out of the room.
Mr. Hummel was sitting in his warehouse before a battalion of new hats
with broad brims and round crowns, which were placed for review before
his field-marshal's eye, and he spoke reprovingly to his bookkeeper:
"They are like mere barbers' basins; man is losing his dignity. At all
events, we shall make profit by these coverings: no one notices the
cats'-hairs of which they are made; but they rob the head of the German
citizen of the last breath of fresh air that he has hitherto secretly
carried about with him in his high hat. In my youth one recognized a
citizen by three points: on his body he wore a coat of blue cloth, on
his head a black hat, and in his pocket a great house-key, with the
ring of which, in case of assault by night, he could twist the noses of
assassins. Now he goes off in a gray jacket to drink his beer, opens
the door of the house with a small corkscrew, and the last high hat
will probably be bought up as a rarity for art collections. You may
immediately put aside part of our manufacture for antiquarians."
This pleasant grumbling was interrupted by Laura, who entered eagerly,
seized her father's hand with an imploring look, and drew him from his
warehouse into his small office. Mr. Hummel submitted to be thus led,
as patiently as Lot when the angel led him from the burning cities of
the valley. When she was alone with her father she threw her arms about
his neck, kissed and stroked his cheek, and for a long time could bring
out nothing but "My good, noble father." Mr. Hummel was well pleased
with this stormy fashion of endearment for a time.
"Now I have had enough of this caressing. What do you want? This
introduction is too grand for a new parasol or a concert ticket."
"Father," cried Laura, "I know all that you have done for our neighbor.
I beg your forgiveness; I, unfortunate one, have misunderstood your
heart, and have many times inwardly resented your harshness."
She kissed his hands, tears falling from her eyes.
"Has that dough-face over the way been blabbing?" asked Mr. Hummel.
"He was obliged to tell me, and it was a happy moment for me. Now I
will acknowledge all to you with shame and repentance. Forgive me."
She sank down before him.
"Father, I have long been sick at heart. I have thought you pitiless.
Your eternal grumbling and enmity to our neighbor have made me very
unhappy, and my life here has often been miserable."
Mr. Hummel sat erect and serious, but a little dismayed at the
confession of his child, and he had an indistinct impression that he
had carried his rough opposition too far.
"That is enough," he said; "this is all excitement and imagination. If
I have been vexed through all these years, it has not done me any harm,
nor the people over the way either. It is an unreasonable sorrow that
now excites your lamentations."
"Have consideration for me," entreated Laura. "An irresistible longing
to go forth from this narrow street, has entered my soul. Father, I
would like to take a leap into the world."
"Indeed!" said Mr. Hummel. "I also should like to take a leap into it,
if I only knew where this jolly world could be found."
"Father, you have often told me how light was your heart when you
wandered forth as a boy from your native town, and that from these
wanderings you became a man."
"That is true," replied Hummel. "It was a fine morning, and I had eight
pence in my pocket. I was as lively as a dog with wings."
"Father, I also should like to rove about."
"You?" asked Hummel. "I have laid aside my knapsack; there are only a
few hairs remaining on it, but you may tie your boots over it; then one
cannot see it."
"Good father, I also want to go out and seek my way among strangers,
and look out for what will please me. I will try my powers, and fight
my may with my own hands."
"You must put on breeches," said Hummel; "you cannot otherwise go alone
in your wanderings.'
"I will take some one with me," answered Laura, softly.
"Our maid Susan? She can carry a lantern for you. The paths in this
world are sometimes muddy."
"No, father; I mean the Doctor."
She whispered to him:
"I want the Doctor to elope with me."
"Ah, you little spider!" cried Hummel, amazed. "The Doctor elope with
you! If you were to elope with him, there would be more sense in it."
"That's just what I want to do," replied Laura.
"Mutually, then!" said Hummel. "Listen: the matter becomes serious.
Leave off embracing me, keep your hands away, and make a face beseeming
a citizen's daughter and not an actress."
He pushed her down on the window-seat.
"Now speak to the point. So you intend to carry off the Doctor? I ask
you, with what means? For your pocket-money will not reach far, and he
over the way has not much to spare for such Sunday pleasures? I ask
you, will you first marry him? If so, the elopement would be very
suspicious, for I have never yet heard of a woman carrying off her
husband by force. If you do not marry him, there is something which you
must learn from your mother, and which is called modesty. Out with it!"
"I wish to have him for a husband," said Laura, softly.
"Ah, that is it, is it? and was your Doctor ready to take charge of you
before marriage, and to run away with you?"
"No; he spoke as you do, and reminded me that I ought not to give you
pain."
"He is occasionally humane," replied Hummel; "I am indeed indebted to
him for his good intentions. Finally, I ask you, where will you carry
him off to?"
"To Bielstein, father. There is the church in which Ilse was married."
"I understand," said Hummel, "ours are too large; and what afterwards?
Do you mean to work as a day-laborer on the estate?"
"Father, if we could but travel," said Laura, imploringly.
"Why not," replied Mr. Hummel, ironically; "to America, perhaps, as
colleagues of Knips junior? You are as mad as a March hare. The
legitimate and only daughter of Mr. Hummel will run away from her
father and mother, from a comfortable house and flourishing business,
with her neighbor's only son, who is in his way also legitimate, to a
fools' paradise. I never could have thought that this hour would
arrive."
He paced up and down.
"Now hear your father. If you had been a boy I would have had you well
thrashed; but you are a girl, and your mother has formed you according
to her principles. Now I perceive with regret that we have allowed you
to have your own way too much, and that you may be unhappy for your
whole life. You have got the Doctor into your head, and you might as
well have fixed upon a tragic hero or a prince, and it shocks me to
think of it."
"But I have not thought of such," replied Laura, dejectedly; "for I am
my father's daughter."
Hummel laid hold of the plaits of her hair and examined them
critically:
"Obstinacy; but the mixture is not throughout the same; there is
something of higher womanliness with it; fancifulness, and whimsical
ideas. That is the misfortune; here a powerful stroke of the brush is
necessary."
These words he repeated several times, and sat down thoughtfully on his
chair.
"So you wish for my consent to this little elopement. I give it you
upon one condition. The affair shall remain between us two; you shall
do nothing without my consent, and even your mother must not know that
you have spoken to me of it. You shall take a drive into the world, but
in my way. For the rest, I thank you for this present that you have
made me on my birthday. You are a pretty violet for me to have brought
up! Has one ever heard of such a plant taking itself by the head and
tearing itself out of the ground?"
Laura embraced him again, and wept.
"Do not set your pump again in motion," cried Mr. Hummel, untouched,
"that cannot help either of us. A happy journey, Miss Hummel."
Laura, however, did not go, but remained clinging to his neck. The
father kissed her on the forehead.
"Away with you; I must consider with what brush I shall stroke you
smooth."
Laura left the room. Mr. Hummel sat alone for a long time by his desk,
holding his head with both hands. At last he began to whistle in a low
tone the old Dessauer--a sign to the book-keeper, who was entering,
that soft feelings had the upper hand with him.
"Go across to the Doctor, and beg him to take the trouble of coming
over to me immediately."
The Doctor entered the office. Mr. Hummel rummaged in his desk and
brought out a little paper.
"Here, I return you the present that you once made me."
The Doctor opened it, and two little gloves lay within.
"You may give these gloves to my daughter on the day on which you are
married to her, and you can tell her they come from her father, from
whom she has run away."
He turned away, approached the window, and thrummed on the pane.
"I have already told you before, Mr. Hummel, that I will not take back
these gloves. Least of all will I do it for this purpose. If the happy
day is ever to come to me when I can take Laura to my home, it will
only be when you put your daughter's hand in mine. I beg you, dear Mr.
Hummel, to keep these gloves until that day."
"Much obliged," replied Hummel; "you are a miserable Don Juan. I am in
duty bound," he continued, in his usual tone, "to communicate to you
what is of fitting importance to you. My daughter Laura wishes to elope
with you."
"What now disturbs Laura," answered the Doctor, "and has given her
these wild thoughts, is no secret to you. She feels herself oppressed
by the unpleasant relations which subsist between us. I hope this
excitement will pass away."
"May I be allowed to ask the modest question, whether it is your
intention to agree to her plan?"
"I will not do it," rejoined the Doctor.
"Why not?" asked Hummel, coldly. "I for my part, have no objection to
it."
"That is one reason the more for me not to act inconsiderately by you,
nor to be treated in a like manner."
"I can bequeath my money to the hospital."
"To this remark I have only one answer," replied the Doctor. "You
yourself do not believe that this consideration influences my actions."
"Unfortunately not," replied Hummel; "you are both unpractical people.
So you hope that I will at last give you my blessing without an
elopement?"
"Yes, I do hope it," exclaimed the Doctor. "However you may wish to
appear to me, I trust that the goodness of your heart will be greater
than your aversion."
"Do not count upon my indulgence. Doctor. I do not believe that I shall
ever prepare a marriage-feast for you. My child gives herself with
confidence into your hands; take her."
"No, Mr. Hummel," replied the Doctor, "I shall not do it."
"Has my daughter sunk so much in value because she is ready to become
your wife?" asked Mr. Hummel, bitterly, and with a rough voice. "The
poor girl has acquired some notions among her learned acquaintances,
which do not suit the simple life of her father."
"That is unjust towards us all, and also towards our absent friends,"
said the Doctor, indignantly. "What now distracts Laura is only a petty
enthusiasm; there is still in her some of the childish poetry of her
early girlhood. He who loves her may have perfect confidence in her
pure soul. Only in one respect must he maintain a firm judgment in
dealing with her; he must here and there exercise a mild criticism. But
I should be unworthy of the love of her pure heart if I should agree to
a hasty proceeding, which would at a later period occasion her pain.
Laura shall not do what is unbecoming to her."
"So that is Hindoo," replied Mr. Hummel; "there is a spark of sound
common sense in your Botocudens and Brahmins. Do your learned books
also find an excuse for a daughter not feeling happy in the house of
her parents?"
"That is your fault alone, Mr. Hummel," replied the Doctor.
"Oho!" said Mr. Hummel; "so that's it."
"Forgive me my plain speaking," continued the Doctor. "It is the
fashion of Laura's father to play the tyrant a little in his family, in
spite of all his love for them. Laura has from her childhood been
accustomed to view your strange nature with fear; therefore she does
not form the impartial conception of your character, nor feel the
pleasure in your mischievous humors that those not so intimately
acquainted enjoy. If you had seen Laura's transport when I made known
to her what you had done for my father, you would never doubt her
heart. Now she is overcome with anguish about our future. But you may
be assured, if Laura were to give in to her fancy and separate herself
from her parents' house, she would soon feel gnawing repentance and
longing for her parents. Therefore, the man for whom she would now make
this sacrifice acts not only honorably, but also prudently, in
resisting it."
Mr. Hummel looked fiercely at the Doctor.
"There is the old bear tied to a stake, the young puppies pull at his
fur, and the cocks crow over his head. Take warning by my fate; under
all circumstances avoid having female offspring." He put his hand upon
the gloves, packed them up again, smoothed the paper, and shut them in
his writing-desk. "Thus shall I lock up again my unnatural child; for
the rest I remain your devoted servant. So your old Hindoos tell you
that I am a droll screech-owl, and a jolly _bonvivant_ to strangers. Is
that your opinion of my natural propensities?"
"You are not quite so innocent," replied the Doctor, with a bow. "To me
you have been always particularly rude."
"There is no one I would rather wrangle with than with you,"
acknowledged Mr. Hummel.
The Doctor bowed, and said:
"When you play with other men as with cats, they only bear such
treatment because they perceive good intentions under your
cross-grained exterior. I can say this to you, because I am one of the
few men to whom you have shown real dislike; and, as you are also
obstinate, I know very well that I shall still have to have many a tilt
with you, and I am not at all sure how it will end between us. That,
however, does not prevent my acknowledging the bitter amiability of
your nature."
"I object to any further enlightenment as to my real character,"
exclaimed Mr. Hummel. "You have a disagreeable way of viewing your
fellow-men microscopically. I protest against your painting me like a
flea in the shadow on the wall. As concerns your proceedings as my
daughter's lover, I am content with them. You do not choose to take my
child in the way in which she is to be had; I thank you for your
scruples. In this matter we are entirely of the same opinion, and you
therefore shall not have her at all."
The Doctor wished to interrupt him, but Hummel waved his hand.
"All further talk is useless; you renounce my daughter, but you
preserve the esteem of her father, and you have moreover the feeling of
acting for the best for Laura. As you feel such great uprightness, you
may console yourself with it. You will devote yourself to celibacy, and
I should envy you, if it were not for the consideration of Madame
Hummel."
"This will not avail, Mr. Hummel," replied the Doctor; "I have not the
least intention of renouncing Laura's hand."
"I understand," replied Mr. Hummel; "you wish to besiege my daughter
still, from across the street. This quiet pleasure I can, unfortunately
no longer allow, for I am certainly of opinion that Laura must at some
time leave my house; and as you have chosen the good opinion of the
father rather than the daughter, we will confer on this point in mutual
understanding. You are mistaken if you think that my daughter Laura
will give up her fancies upon wise admonition. Have you not sometimes
appealed to my conscience? It was all that could be expected,
considering your age; but it has been of no avail with me. It will be
the same with this obstinate child. Therefore I am, as a father, of
opinion that we must give in to a certain degree to the folly of my
child. Consider how far you can go to please us. She wishes to join the
Professor's wife. She shall not go to this capital where my lodger has
no home, but she has frequently been invited to Bielstein."
The Doctor answered:
"I have urgent reasons for going to my friend during the next few
days. I will gladly make a detour by Bielstein, if you will allow
me to accompany Laura on this journey, I shall make no secret of its
purpose,--and least of all to my parents."
"This elopement is so shabby that, were I a girl, I should be ashamed
of taking part in it. But one must not expect too much of you. I will
not be at home when this departure takes place: you see, that is
natural. I have already made my plans concerning my child's future. I
give her over to you for the journey with confidence."
"Mr. Hummel," exclaimed the Doctor, disquieted, "I ask for still
greater confidence. How have you decided concerning Laura's future?"
"As you have determined to show me such respect, I beg you will be
content with the confidential intimation, that I have no intention of
making you any such communication. You preserve my esteem, and I my
daughter. My compact is concluded."
"But the compact is not quite satisfactory to me, Mr. Hummel," answered
the Doctor.
"Hold your tongue. If in consequence of this agreement you resume your
theatrical career, I should advise you never to act the _role_ of
lover. The audiences will run out of all the doors. Do I treat people
like cats?--So I treated your father and his flowers this morning. You
can give him an intimation of that. My wife has plucked to-day a few
roosters for my birthday; if roasting these namesakes of yours does not
excite painful feelings in you, it will give me pleasure to see you at
dinner. You will not be under the embarrassment of having to talk only
to my daughter, for the family clown is invited: he will keep up the
conversation--you may be silent. Good morning, Doctor."
The Doctor again stretched out his hand to him. Mr. Hummel shook it,
grumbling all the while. When he was again alone in his office the
melody of the old Dessauer again sounded in the narrow room, now brisk
and hearty. Then, soon after, Mr. Hummel broke forth with the second of
the two airs--"the Dear Violet"--to which he had recourse when in an
unconstrained humor. At last he mixed up the drumming of the Dessauer
with "the Dear Violet" in an artistic medley. The book-keeper, who knew
that this _pot pourri_ betokened a state of the highest spring warmth,
popped his face, smiling respectfully, into the office.
"You may come to dinner to-day," said Mr. Hummel, graciously.
_CHAPTER XXXIV_.
OLD ACQUAINTANCES.
Since the conversation upon the Roman emperors, the Sovereign had
withdrawn for a few days from his Court. He was ill. His nervous
prostration, as the physicians declared, was the usual consequence of a
cold. Only a few privileged persons--among them Master Knips--had
access to him during this time, and they had no cause to rejoice in
their confidential position, for it was difficult to deal with the
princely invalid.
To-day the Sovereign was sitting in his study; before him stood an old
official, with a weazen face, reporting the daily occurrences of the
capital, opinions which were expressed in public places concerning the
Sovereign and his illustrious house, small scandalous family anecdotes,
also observations that had been made in the palace to which the
Princess had gone within the last few days, and the persons she had
seen there. Prince Victor paid daily visits to the Baroness Hallstein,
and passed the evening with the officers of his former regiment; he had
returned unexpectedly that morning.
"How do things go on in the Pavilion?" asked the Sovereign.
"According to the account of the lackey, there have been no visitors
from the city, nor any letters; everything as usual in the afternoon.
When the strangers were sitting in front of the door, the lady had
spoken of a journey to Switzerland, but her husband replied that there
could be no thought of it until he had finished his business. Then
there had been an uncomfortable silence. In the evening both attended
the theatre."
The Sovereign nodded, and dismissed the official. As he sat alone, he
pushed his chair against the wall, and listened to the sound of a small
bell which, from the further end of the room, was scarcely audible; he
hastily opened the door of a niche in the wall, and took out the
letters which a confidential secretary had sent up through a tube from
the lower story. There were various handwritings: he passed quickly
through the contents. At last he held a bundle of children's letters in
his hand. Again he laughed. "So the great ball has burst already." His
countenance became serious. "A genuine peasant, he has no sense for the
honor of having the top-boots of a prince among his fields." He took
another letter. "The Hereditary Prince to his sister. It is the first
letter of the pious John Patmos, saying nothing, as if it had been
written for me. That may possibly be so. The contents are scanty and
cold. He expresses the wish that his sister also may pass a pleasant
time in the country. We wish the same," he continued, with good humor;
"she may pluck flowers and talk with scholars about the virtues of
Roman ladies. This wish shall be fulfilled by all parties." He laid the
letters back in the niche, and pressed a spring in the floor with his
foot; there was a slight rustling in the wall, and the packet glided
down.
The Sovereign raised himself from his chair and walked about the room.
"My thoughts hover restlessly about this man. I have received him with
complaisance; I have even treated his insane hopes with the greatest
consideration, and yet this unpractical dreamer mocks at me. Why did he
make this insidious attack on me? He did it with the malicious
penetration of a diseased person, who knows better than a sound one
what is deficient in another. His prating was half vague reflection and
half the silly cunning of a fool who also carries about him a worm in
his brain. It does not matter: we know one another, as the Augur knew
his colleagues. Between us a family hatred burns, such as can only
exist between relations--an enduring, thorough hatred, which conceals
itself beneath smiles and polite bows. Trick for trick, my Roman
cousin. You seek a manuscript which lies concealed with me, but I
something else, which you would withhold from me."
He sank back in his chair, and looked timidly towards the door; then
put his hand into a pile of books, and drew out a translation of
Tacitus. He tapped the book with his finger.
"He who wrote this was also diseased. He spied incessantly into the
souls of his masters; their pictures so filled his fancy, that the
Roman people and the millions of other men appeared unimportant to him:
he suspected every step of his rulers, yet neither he nor his
generation could do without them. He gazed at them as on suns, the
eclipse of which he investigated, and which reflected their light on
him, the little planet. He began to doubt the wisdom of the order of
things; and that to every human mind is the beginning of the end. But
he had wit enough to see that his masters became diseased through the
miserable meanness of those like himself, and his best policy was that
of the old High Steward, to bear all with a silent obeisance."
He opened the leaves.
"Only one, whom he has included in his book," he began again, "was a
man, whom it moves one to read about. This was the gloomy majesty of
Tiberius: he knew the rabble, and despised them, till the miserable
slaves at last placed him among the madmen. Do you know, Professor
Tacitus, why the great Emperor became a weak fool? No one knows it--no
one on earth but me, and those like me. He went mad because he could
not cease to be a man of feeling. He despised many and hated many, and
yet he could not do without the childish feeling of loving and
trusting. A common youth, who had once shown him personal devotion,
caught hold of this fancy of his earthly life, and dragged the
powerful mind down with him into the dirt. A miserable weakness of
heart converted the stern politician of Imperial Rome into a fool.
The weak feelings that rise up in lonely hours are the undoing of
us all; indestructible is this longing for a pure heart and a true
spirit--undying the seeking after the ideal condition of man, which is
described by the poet and believed in by the pedant." He sighed deeply;
his head sank on the table between his hands.
There was a slight sound at the door. The Sovereign started. The
servant announced--"The Grand Marshal von Bergau." The Grand Marshal
entered.
"The Princess inquired at what hour your Highness will take leave of
her."
"Take leave?" asked the Sovereign, reflecting. "Why?"
"Your Highness has been pleased to order that the Princess shall this
morning go to her summer castle for a few days."
"It is true," replied the Sovereign. "I am well today, dear Bergau, and
will breakfast with the Princess. Will it be agreeable to you to
accompany her?" he asked, kindly.
"I am very grateful to my gracious master for this favor," replied the
Grand Marshal, honestly.
"What lady has the Princess chosen as her attendant?"
"As your Highness has given her the choice, she has decided upon Lady
Gottlinde."
"I agree to that," said the Sovereign graciously. "The good Lady
Gottlinde may be invited to breakfast, and you yourself may come also,
that I may see you all once more about me before the journey. I have
one more thing to say. Mr. Werner will follow you; he wishes to examine
the rooms and chests of the castle for his scientific purposes. Render
him assistance in every way, and show him the greatest attention. I
have also a confidential commission for you."
The Grand Marshal made a piteous face, which plainly indicated a
protest.
"I wish to win for us this distinguished man," continued the Sovereign.
"Sound him as to what place or distinction would be acceptable to him.
I wish you to observe that I am most anxious to keep him."
The Grand Marshal, much discomposed, answered:
"I assure your Highness, with the greatest respect, that I know how to
value your confidence, yet this commission fills me with consternation;
for it exposes me to the danger of exciting the displeasure of my
gracious master. I have had opportunities of remarking that one cannot
count upon gratitude from these people."
"You must not offer him anything; only endeavor to make him express
some wish," replied the Sovereign dryly.
"But if this wish should exceed the bounds of moderation?" asked the
Marshal hesitatingly.
"Take care not to object to it; leave it to me to decide whether I
consider it immoderate. Send me a report immediately."
The Sovereign gave the signal of dismissal; watched sharply his bow and
departure, and looked after the departing gentleman and gravely shook
his head.
"He is not old, and yet the curse has overtaken him; he becomes
grotesque. Here is another riddle of human nature for you learned
gentlemen: the person who has every hour to control his countenance and
manner, to whom the most rigid tact and correct forms are necessary in
his daily intercourse, should, just when he becomes older, lose this
best acquisition of his life, and become troublesome by his weak
chattering and unrestrained egotism. You know how to answer. Emperor
Tiberius, why your service, clever man, gradually made your servants
caricatures of your own character? Now they have revenged themselves on
you; it is all right. There is a desperate rationality in the links of
the world. O misery, misery, that we should both have so little cause
to rejoice at it!"
He groaned, and again buried his head in his hands.
* * *
Shortly after Ilse received the latest letters from home.
"How can the four-leaved clover be lost out of a well closed letter?"
she asked her husband. "Luise, on her birthday, found some clover
leaves and sent them in her former letter, to bring you good luck. The
child is just at the age in which such nonsense gives pleasure. The
dried clover was not in her letter, and as she is careless, I scolded
her for it in my answer. To-day she assures me that she put them into
the envelope the last thing."
"It may have fallen out when you opened the letter," said the Professor
consolingly.
"My father is not contented with us," continued Ilse, discomposed; "he
does not like it that the Prince has come into the vicinity; he fears
distraction in the farm and gossip. Yet why should people gossip? Clara
is still half a child, and the prince does not live upon our estate.
There is a dark cloud over everything," she said; "the light of the
dear sun has ceased to shine. Nothing but disturbances, the Sovereign
ill, and our Hereditary Prince vanishes as if swept away by a storm.
How could he go away without bidding us good-bye? I cannot set my mind
to rest as to that; for we have not deserved it of him, nor of his
courtly Chamberlain. I fear he does not go into the country willingly;
and he is angry with me, Felix, because I said something about it. No
good will come of it, and it makes me heavy at heart."
"If this trouble leaves you any thought for the affairs of other
people," began the Professor, gaily, "you must allow me a small share.
I think I have found the hidden castle which I have so long sought. I
see from this chronicle that in the last century the country seat to
which the Princess is going was surrounded by a forest. I hear that in
this remote place much old household rubbish is preserved. I feel like
a child on the eve of its birthday. I have made known my wishes to
fate, and when I think of the hour when the present shall come to me, I
feel the same heart-beating expectation which scares away sleep from
the boy. It is childish, Ilse," he continued, holding out his hand to
his wife, "I know it is; but have patience with me; I have long wearied
you with my dreams, but now it will come to an end. The hope indeed
will not come to an end, but this is the last place I have any reason
to search for it."
"But if it should again happen that you do not find the book?" asked
Ilse, sorrowfully, holding his hand.
A gloomy expression came over the Professor's face; he turned around
abruptly, and said, harshly:
"Then I shall seek further. If Fritz had but come!"
"Was he to come?" asked Ilse, with surprise.
"I have requested him to do so," replied her husband. "He answered that
his father's business and his relations with Laura prevented him. To
him also it appears that a crisis is impending; he has suspicions with
respect to the specification that I found here, which I consider
unfounded."
"Oh, that he were with us!" said Ilse; "I long for a friendly face,
like one who has for many days been traveling through a desert
wilderness."
The Professor pointed towards the window.
"This wilderness looks tolerably humanized, and a visitor, such as you
desire, seems already coming up to the house."
Ilse heard the rumble of wheels coming along the gravel of the castle
road. A carriage stopped before the Pavilion, and the country coachman
cracked his whip. The servants hastened to the door; Gabriel opened the
carriage door; a little lady descended, gave a parcel to the lackey and
a bandbox to Gabriel, and called out to the coachman to inquire about
putting up the horses. She hastily ascended the steps, and, as she did
so, gazed on the paintings and carved scrolls.
"This is a great pleasure, Mrs. Rollmaus," exclaimed Ilse, delighted,
meeting her at the door.
The Professor hastened to the stranger and offered her his arm.
"My dear Ilse," cried the little lady; "revered and highly honored
Professor, here I am. As Rollmaus has been charged with the
superintendence of an estate in the neighborhood, in trust for a
nephew, and as he has had to travel into this country to put things in
order, and will stop only a short time, I thought I would take the
pleasure of paying you a visit. Your father, brothers, and sisters wish
to be remembered to you. Clara is growing up the very image of you."
"Come in, come in," said Ilse; "you yourself are the best greeting from
home."
Mrs. Rollmaus stopped at the door.
"Only a moment," she said, pointing to the bandbox.
"You come to old friends."
"You must allow me however, that I may not disgrace this princely
house."
Mrs. Rollmaus was taken into an adjoining room, the bandbox opened,
and, after the best cap was put on, as well as white collar and cuffs,
the learned lady floated into the sitting-room with Ilse.
"Magnificent," she exclaimed, looking with admiration at the ceiling,
where the god of love held out to her his bunches of poppies. "One can
see at once by the cross-bow that it is a Cupid; one frequently sees
them on gingerbread figures, where they stand between two burning
hearts. Dear Professor, the pleasure of meeting again, and in such
surroundings, is truly very great. I have long looked forward with
pleasure to this hour, when I could express to you my thanks for the
last book you sent me, in which I have gotten as far as the
Reformation. Rollmaus would gladly have come with me, but he has
business to attend to in the distillery on account of the old boiler,
which must be removed."
During this speech the eye of Mrs. Rollmaus wandered inquisitively into
every corner of the room.
"Who would have thought, dear Ilse, that you and the Professor would
have come into friendly relations with our princely personages? I must
confess to you that I have already looked about me in driving here for
the princely court-yard, which, however, probably lies on the other
side, as I see only gardens here."
"There are no offices at the castle," explained Ilse, "only the stable
and the large kitchen have remained."
"They say there are six cooks," rejoined Mrs. Rollmaus, "who are all
great head-cooks; although I do not know for what other part of the
human body they could be cooking. But the originalities of a Court are
very great,--amongst which are the silver-cleaners, who, I verily
believe, do not do their duty; at least, the small coin in our country
is very dirty, and a great scouring day would be necessary for them.
They say that the young Prince has now gone to the Chief Forester's
lodge. Our Chief Forester is fully occupied; he grumbles over this royal
quartering, and has ordered himself a new uniform."
She became serious and thoughtful, and there ensued an awkward pause,
during which she rubbed her nose, looked at Ilse good-humoredly, and
pressed her hand.
"There appears to be a storm coming," she continued, in a low tone,
"and the country gentlemen complain that the spring grub has eaten the
rapeseed. Here, indeed, it seems like a paradise, although I hope that
no wild beasts rove about here, and it is not the season to pluck the
apples from the trees with pleasure. Something seems to have turned up
in the capital which is very remarkable; for as I came to the estate
with Rollmaus, the Inspector told me of a fortune-teller who prophesied
wonderful things of the people of this city. Do you know anything
certain about her?"
"We have few acquaintances," answered Ilse; "we only get news from the
papers."
"I should be glad to hear something about that person, for I have
latterly begun the study of phrenology; and I hear, dear Professor,
that these investigations are much combated. I do not myself feel sure
about them. I have examined the head of Rollmaus, and am surprised to
see how much the bump of destruction is developed behind his ear,
though he is annoyed at every cup-handle the maid servants break.
Nevertheless, dear Professor, I find the powers of thought shown upon
your brow. The bumps are very large, by which I do not mean to say that
they are unbecoming to you. But to return to the fortune-teller. She
told the Inspector that he was married, and had two children, and that
his wife was dead, and that he wished to take another, who would add
two more. This is all correct, for he is again courting. Now, I ask
you, how could this person know it?"
"Perhaps she knows the Inspector?" replied the Professor, rummaging
among his papers. "I advise you not to confide in her art, and I do not
recommend to you the study of phrenology. But now let us know how long
you can remain with us. I am obliged to go to the Museum, and hope to
find you on my return."
"I can remain a few hours," said Mrs. Rollmaus. "I have three miles to
go, but the roads here are better than with us. Although now our
highway is being built, and the road commissioners already go along it
to the town of Rossau. Only think, dear Ilse, the stone bridge between
your estate and the town is already pulled down, but they have put up a
temporary one in its stead. For a few hours, then, I beg of you to be
satisfied with my company."
The Professor went away; the ladies talked confidentially over the
family at home, during which Mrs. Rollmaus could not entirely give up
her scientific investigations; for, in the middle of the conversation,
she put her fingers on Ilse's temples, and begged permission to feel
the crown of her head; whereupon she said, with much delight, "There is
much sincerity there, as I should have supposed." She then looked
significantly at Ilse. She was loquacious and flippant, but she showed
a degree of restraint which Ilse attributed to the strangeness of the
place.
After Mrs. Rollmaus had admired the dwelling, criticized the pictures,
and felt the texture of the furniture coverings, Ilse pointed to the
sun, which was breaking through the clouds, and proposed that they
should walk out into the park. Mrs. Rollmaus assented with pleasure,
and Ilse had much to do to answer the questions of the excitable lady.
Then they came to a part of the grounds which served as a promenade at
this hour for the ladies and people of the city. "What a surprise,"
exclaimed Mrs. Rollmaus, suddenly seizing Ilse's arm, "the princely
livery." At a turn in the path, the hat of a lackey became visible; the
Princess, accompanied by Lady Gottlinde and Prince Victor, came
directly towards them. Amidst the respectful greetings of the
promenaders, the princely party approached. Ilse stepped aside, and
curtsied. The Princess stopped. "We were on the point of calling on
you," she began, kindly; "my brother was obliged to leave suddenly; he
will have told your father how sorry he was that he could not take any
messages from you to your family." She gave a passing look at Mrs.
Rollmaus, who was supporting herself with both her hands on her
umbrella, bending her head forward, not to lose a syllable that fell
from the lips of the princely lady. Ilse mentioned her name.
"A kind friend from the neighborhood of Rossau, who is spending a few
days near here."
Mrs. Rollmaus ducked down very low, and, almost unconscious from
terror, said: "It is only three miles from here, in Toadville;
although, if I may, by your Highness's permission, be graciously
allowed to say so, there are no more toads there than in any other
respectable place."
"You are taking a walk," said the Princess, to Ilse, "will you
accompany me a little way?" She beckoned Ilse to her side, placing
herself between her and the lady in waiting. Prince Victor remained
behind with Mrs. Rollmaus.
"So toads are not pastured on your estate?" began the Prince.
"No, my gracious ----," replied Mrs. Rollmaus, embarrassed, supporting
herself on her umbrella. "I do not really know what is the right title
to address you with."
"Prince Victor," replied the young gentleman, carelessly.
"I beg your pardon; but this honorable name does not satisfy me. May I
beg to know the other title, similar to what, in the case of pastors,
would be expressed by Very Reverend? For to offend princely persons
would not be pleasant, and I am not conversant with these forms of
address."
"High and honorable lady, you may call me Highness; thus we shall both
have our rights."
"It shall be as you command," exclaimed Mrs. Rollmaus, delighted.
"You have long known the Professor's wife?"
"From her childhood," explained Mrs. Rollmaus; "I was a friend of her
deceased mother, and I can truly say that I have shared both happiness
and sorrow with our dear Ilse. Prince Victor, it is impossible for your
Highness to know her true heart as well as we do. Latterly, through her
learned acquaintances, she has come into another atmosphere; but long
before her betrothal it was clear to me that it would be a match."
"Good," said the Prince. "How long do you remain in the neighborhood?"
"Only until the end of the week; for Rollmaus prefers the country to
the city, which is not to be wondered at; he has not the inclination
for intellectual pursuits by which I am inspired. For this there is
more opportunity in the city, although one, even in the country, can
make one's observations on heads and other natural objects."
"The weather is changeable; is your carriage closed?" interrupted the
Prince.
"It is a britscka, with a leather top to it," replied Mrs. Rollmaus. "I
must honestly avow to you that it has been quite an unexpected pleasure
to me that this visit has afforded the opportunity of seeing your
Highness, for I have heard very much of you."
"I should be very grateful to you," replied the Prince, "if you would
kindly tell me what you have heard. I have hitherto believed that my
reputation was not by any means so bad as it might be."
"No one, however noble he may be, can escape calumny," exclaimed Mrs.
Rollmaus, eagerly; "they talk of tricks. I fear your Highness will take
it amiss if I mention this gossip."
"Tell me something of it," replied the Prince, "whatever it may be."
"They maintain that your Highness is convivial and lives quite
boisterously, and other things which it would be unpleasant for me to
repeat."
"Go on," said the Prince, cheerfully.
"That your Highness makes fools of other people."
"That is grievous," replied the Prince. "Is your coachman a courageous
man?"
"He is somewhat surly even with Rollmaus, who indulges him much."
"Believe me Mrs. Rollmaus," continued the Prince, "it is a sorrowful
business to be a prince. Disquiet from morning to evening. Every one
will have something, and no one brings anything except bills. Thus all
gaiety is sacrificed, one becomes sad, and slinks about through the
bushes. My favorite recreation is a little quiet conversation in the
evening with my old nurse and instructress, the widowed Cliquot, and to
play a little 'patience.' Then one counts the good works that one has
done during the day, sighs that they are so few, and looks for one's
boot-jack. We are the victims of our position. If there is anything I
envy the Professor's wife, it is her servant Gabriel, a trustworthy
man, whom I recommend to your favorable attention."
"I know him," replied Mrs. Rollmaus; "I must acknowledge that the
autobiography which you have given me agrees with all that I have
discovered from the structure of your Highness's head, so far as your
hat does not deprive one of the sight of it, which indeed is very much
the case."
"I would be thankful to my cranium," muttered the Prince, "if it would
lead everyone to believe my words as easily as you do."
"As long as I live, it will be a pleasure as well as a souvenir to me,"
continued. Mrs. Rollmaus, with an ambulatory curtsy, "to have been
brought by accident to this intimate intercourse with your Highness,
the remembrance of which I will, if I may be allowed to say so, recall
to myself by your Highness's picture, which I hope may be had in the
shops. I shall place myself before it when I am in the singular number,
as now my son Karl does with his grammar, and think of past hours."
Prince Victor gave Mrs. Rollmaus a look of friendly benevolence.
"I will never allow you to buy my portrait. I beg permission to send
you a copy as a remembrance. It is, unfortunately, not so true as I
could wish. The painter has made me too large, and I am not quite
content with the costume: it looks like a clergyman's gown. Meanwhile I
beg you kindly to imagine it without this superfluity. Has the Chief
Inspector Rollmaus good horses? Does he raise them himself?
"Always, your Highness, he is famed for it among the neighbors."
The Prince turned with fresh interest towards the little lady.
"Perhaps one could transact some business with him. I am looking out
for some strong saddle-horses. What kind of a man is he to deal with?"
he asked, frankly.
"He is a very sharp tradesman," replied Mrs. Rollmaus, hesitatingly,
and looking at the Prince with secret pity. "He is considered by his
acquaintances as an expert in horses, and--and, if I may say so--is
rather knowing."
The Prince pursed up his lips, bringing out a sound almost like a
suppressed whistle.
"Then he is very unlike the highly honored lady, and I shall hardly be
able to do business with him. Would it not give the Professor's wife
pleasure to visit you for a few days in the village of toads?"
"It would be the greatest pleasure to us," exclaimed Mrs. Rollmaus,
"but the house is empty, and is not furnished, and we must manage as
best we can, and the victuals, too, as a rule, are cold."
"Only in case of extreme necessity, I mean."
Meanwhile Ilse was walking by the side of the Princess through the
groups of citizens making their obeisances, but her heart was not so
light as that of Mrs. Rollmaus. The Princess spoke kindly to her, but
upon indifferent subjects, and she turned frequently to the other side
to her lady. It was clearly not her wish to enter into more
conversation with Ilse than was absolutely necessary. Ilse saw clearly
that it was a show of favor before the world; she felt the intention of
it, and asked herself secretly why it was necessary, and her pride
revolted at this graciousness, which did not come from the heart. The
Princess kept Ilse for some time in the most crowded part of the
promenade.
"I leave the palace to-day," said the Princess, "and go for a few days
or weeks into the country. Perhaps I shall have the pleasure of seeing
you there."
At parting Prince Victor took off his hat politely, but only said: "The
air is becoming sultry."
Ilse brooded over this little incident as she returned with her
companion to the Pavilion. She answered the animated questions of Mrs.
Rollmaus absent-mindedly, and only gave a half-look at the promenaders,
many of whom now took off their hats to her.
Gabriel had prepared some coffee in honor of Mrs. Rollmaus, and had set
the table in front of the door. There the ladies sat down. Mrs.
Rollmaus looked enchanted at the blooming azaleas, praised the cake of
the palace, and still more the princely personages, and chatted away in
her best humor, whilst Ilse looked seriously down.
"I have seen some of the princely personages, and I should now like to
see the fortune-teller. It is remarkable, dear Ilse, that my valuable
connection with the Professor always brings in question the power of
soothsaying. It is really not from inconsiderate curiosity that I wish
to question this person. It is no object to me to learn about my
future. I know sufficiently how this will all be. For to a certain
extent we live under natural conditions; first the children come, then
they grow up, one becomes older, and if one does not die too young, one
lives a little longer. That has never been inscrutable to me, and I do
not know what a person could now discover for me. It would, therefore,
be some misfortune that would come to pass, and I do not wish to have
that prophesied. I wish it only for the sake of instruction, to find
out whether such a person knows more than we others. For in our days
there are doubts about the powers of soothsaying, and I myself have
never had a presentiment, except once, when I had the toothache, and
dreamt that I smoked a pipe, which took place and had a nauseous
effect; but this cannot be called wonderful."
"Perhaps the fortune-teller knows more than others," replied Ilse,
absently, "because she has somehow made herself acquainted with their
history."
"I have thought of something," cried Mrs. Rollmaus; "I would ask her
about the silver soup-ladle, which, in an inexplicable way, disappeared
from our kitchen."
"What will the lady give me if I tell her?" asked a hollow voice.
Mrs. Rollmaus started. At the corner of the house stood a large woman
behind the flower-pots; from her shoulders hung a ragged cloak, her
head was covered with a dark handkerchief, from under which two
flashing eyes were fixed upon the ladies. Mrs. Rollmaus seized Ilse's
arm, and cried out, terrified: "There is the fortune-teller herself,
dear Ilse. I beg your advice; shall I ask her?"
The woman stepped cautiously from behind the plants, placed herself in
front of Ilse, and raised her handkerchief. Ilse rose and looked
annoyed on the sharp features of the withered face.
"The gipsy!" she exclaimed, stepping back.
"A tinkering woman!" exclaimed Mrs. Rollmaus, displeased; "the secret
knowledge of such as she is, is connected with poultry-stealing, and
worse things. First they steal and conceal, and then tell where the
stolen property is."
The stranger paid no attention to the attack of Mrs. Rollmaus.
"You have hunted my people like the foxes in the wood; the frost has
killed them; your watchmen have imprisoned them, and those that still
live lie within walls, clinking their chains; I rove alone through the
country. Do not think of what was done by the men that night, think
only of what I predicted. Has it not come to pass? You look on the
stone house opposite, and you see how slowly he comes along the
gravel-path, to the room in which the naked boy hangs on the ceiling."
Ilse's countenance changed.
"I do not understand what you mean. Only one thing I see, that you are
no stranger here."
"Many years have my feet glided through the snow," continued the gipsy,
"since I passed through the doors of these black creatures."
She pointed to the angels holding tulip wreaths.
"Now disease has come upon me."
She stretched out her hand:
"Give to the sick woman of the high road, who once went on the same
path that you are now treading."
The color rose in Ilse's cheeks, she gazed fixedly on the beggar woman,
and shook her head.
"It is not money that I want from you," continued the gipsy. "Entreat
the spirit of this house for me, if he should appear to you. I am
weary, and seek rest for my head. Tell him that the strange woman on
whom he hung this token," she pointed to her neck, "begs for his help."
Ilse stood motionless; her cheeks glowed and her eyes flashed angrily
on the woman.
"What will you give to find your silver again?" asked the beggar, in an
altered tone, turning to Mrs. Rollmaus.
"So you are the fortune-teller?" said Mrs. Rollmaus, angrily, "and not
a penny will I give you. Any one who examined your head would find a
fine organism there. I have often heard such gibberish. Away with you
before the police come. One of your people prophesied to my head-maid
that she would marry a landed proprietor, and I was obliged to dismiss
her, though she had been very useful. She began to attack even Rollmaus
himself, although he only laughed at her. Go, we will have nothing to
do with you."
"Think of my request," cried the stranger to Ilse. "I shall return."
The gipsy turned away and disappeared behind the house.
"They are scamps," said Mrs. Rollmaus, deeply irritated. "Believe
nothing of what they say to you. This one talks worse nonsense than the
others. I really believe, dear Ilse, you take to heart what this beggar
woman has said."
"She knows this house, she knew well what she says," said Ilse,
faintly.
"Naturally," exclaimed Mrs. Rollmaus; "they rove about and peep through
all the crevices, they have a good memory for other people's business,
but do not remember their own thievish tricks. I have a great suspicion
of her as regards my soup-ladle. If this is the famous fortune-teller I
am so disgusted as not to care to make any further inquiries. Ah! and
you also, I see."
"I know the woman," replied Ilse; "she belongs to the band who stole
our children, and wounded the arm of my Felix. Now her uncanny figure
comes before me like a spirit, and her dark words excite horror in me.
She threatens to return, and terror seizes me lest this woman should
once more come upon me unawares. I must away from here."
Ilse hastened into the house, Mrs. Rollmaus followed her, and said,
kindly:
"If she comes again, she shall be sent away. The best way of dealing
with these prognosticators is to imprison them with bread and water."
Ilse stood in the sitting-room looking timidly about her.
"He who hung the cross upon her was the master of this castle; and when
she spoke those wild words to me at the gate of the farm yard, she did
not mean my Felix."
"She meant eight shillings, and nothing more," said Mrs. Rollmaus,
consolingly.
"How dare she compare my life with hers? How does she know whether the
lord of this house attends to my words?"
Mrs. Rollmaus endeavored in vain to tranquilize her, by sensible
observations upon the worthlessness of these female vagabonds. Ilse
looked down, with her hands folded, and the consolatory speeches of her
worthy friend were spoken in vain.
Strange voices were heard in the house; Gabriel opened the door, and
announced the Intendant. The old man entered the room officiously and
begged to be excused for the interruption.
"My most gracious master has commanded me to inquire whether a
strolling woman has been begging here. She has slipped into the castle,
obtained access to the Princess, and frightened her, just when her
Highness was departing for the country. His Highness wishes to warn you
against the stranger--she is a dangerous person."
"She was here," replied Ilse, "and talked wildly; she showed that she
knew the house."
The Intendant looked disturbed, as he continued:
"A long time ago, her Highness, the deceased Princess, took compassion
on a gipsy girl whose mother had died on the high road. She had the
creature instructed, and, as she was amusing, and seemed to promise
well, she was at last taken into the castle and employed in small
services; but she has badly repaid this generous treatment. At a time
of heavy affliction in the castle, this person fell back into the
habits of her childhood; she took to stealing, and disappeared. To-day,
one of the servants recognized the maiden in this strange woman. His
Highness, the gracious Prince, who is ailing, was informed of this by
his valet and was much excited by it. Search is being made through all
the streets and roads for the stranger."
The old man took leave. Ilse looked gloomily after him; but she said
with more composure to Mrs. Rollmaus:
"This accounts for the language of the stroller, which sounded
different to that of begging people in general, and it accounts for her
wish to receive the pardon of the Prince."
But now Mrs. Rollmaus in her turn became depressed and sad.
"Ah, dear Ilse! if the witch has really lived here among these
distinguished people, she may know many things that have happened in
this house; for people do not speak well of it, and they say that in
former times princely mistresses lived here. The house is not to blame,
nor are we; it is only because the Hereditary Prince has gone to your
father, and you knew him at the University, that people shake their
heads at it; it is idle gossip."
"What gossip?" exclaimed Ilse, in a hoarse voice, seizing the hand of
Mrs. Rollmaus.
"They say that you are the cause of the Hereditary Prince coming into
our country. We should all rejoice if you were to visit your father
before you journey, as was intended; but I really believe, as long as
the Prince is there, it would be better for you to remain here, or
anywhere else. It is only for the sake of prudence," she continued,
soothingly, "and you must not take it to heart."
Ilse stood silent and motionless; Mrs. Rollmaus continuing her
comforting words, but Ilse scarcely seemed conscious of them.
It is not safe, Ilse, to teach young princes to use agricultural
machines, and to fight duels; the tuition fee will be paid you doubly,
and in new coin, as is the custom of the courts.
There was a long and uneasy silence in the room. Ilse looked wildly
about; then she took a cane chair, and placed herself opposite to Mrs.
Rollmaus, and her fingers flew over her work. "Do not let us talk any
more of such calumnies," she said. "What is your son Karl doing? are
you satisfied with his progress? and how does he get on with the
pianoforte? It would be a good thing for him to understand something
about music."
Mrs. Rollmaus recovered her spirits talking over the dances that her
son Karl played; she chattered on, and Ilse listened silently, counting
over the stitches in her colored wool-work.
The Professor returned, and shortly after the carriage drove up. Mrs.
Rollmaus disappeared into the next room to pack up her cap in the
band-box, and then took an eloquent leave of her dear friend, the
Professor. Her last words to Ilse were:
"It may be long before we meet again; preserve your friendship for me
even though I am far from you."
"What is the meaning of these solemn words of parting our neighbor has
spoken?" asked the Professor, astonished.
"They mean that we are in a house, to be within the walls of which
fills an honest woman with horror and dread," answered Ilse, with
flashing eyes; "and they mean that I wish to go away from here, and
that it is time for you to take away your wife from unwholesome
surroundings."
She told him breathlessly what Mrs. Rollmaus had related, and what the
beggar-woman had suggested.
"I am ensnared, Felix," she exclaimed, "by my own fault, I am sorry to
say. God knows that in my conduct towards the young Prince I had no
thought of bringing your wife into disrepute, but I have been
imprudent, and I am suffering for it horribly, horribly! Now I
understand the forebodings which have tormented me for weeks past. If
you love me take me away quickly from here, the ground burns beneath my
feet."
A sharp pang seized the Professor as he saw his wife struggling with
agony, bitter enough to stun the strongest soul of woman, and to crush
the noblest powers for years.