at Munich. They were not rich, but yet their means were sufficient to
educate me suitably and to allow me to go through all the classes. I
wished to become a landscape painter, and, after finishing school, to
travel in Italy for several years. When I became twenty-one years of
age I felt impelled, before undertaking the great art-journey, to visit
my good mother at Nuremberg--father had been dead for some time.
'Hans,' said she, 'before you make your pilgrimage to Rome, you ought
to take a trip to the place where the roots of our family tree stood
before they were torn up and transplanted here from eastern Franconia.'
She was a worthy old patrician, my good mother, and laid great stress
on grand genealogical expressions. Well, there was nothing to hinder; I
took my pilgrim's staff in hand and set out slowly toward the west,
sketching industriously on the way; for this German landscape of ours
was already far dearer to me than the unknown scenes of the south. Now,
since you have looked through the portfolio, you may perhaps comprehend
that the German Jerusalem impressed me strongly, and that I did not
have hands and eyes enough to note all the remarkable things. But there
was something in Rothenburg which won my approval even more than its
dear antiquity; namely--I shall not treat you to any detailed love
story--at one of the weekly balls given by the so-called 'Harmonic
Society,' I became acquainted with the young daughter of a fine old
citizen who had formerly been an alderman. She was full three years
younger than I, and--I may surely say so--the prettiest child in the
whole town. After the second waltz I knew my own mind well enough, but,
unfortunately, neither hers nor her father's. And so it might have been
a very sorrowful story, and the descendant of the great Toppler might,
like him, have pined away in chains in this old 'imperial' town, if the
before-mentioned fate had not interfered, and allowed me to cast a
lucky throw with my family dice. In three days I was satisfied that the
maiden liked me; and in three weeks, that the father would overlook my
extreme youth and former misdoings, for he too--God knows why--had
taken a foolish liking to me. It was especially pleasing to his
Rothenburg heart that my name was Doppler, and that I knew how to paint
the beautiful ruined walls, the wonderful turrets and strange
fountains, of the old fortress. So, after a short year of probation, he
gave me the hand of his only child, under the condition, to be sure,
that I should leave her in her old home during his lifetime, and should
devote my art principally to the glorification of his beloved town. You
comprehend, my lady, that I did not struggle much against this. My
father-in-law was not only a reputable man, who owned house and
gardens, vineyards and farm lands, but the best soul in the world as
well, and never failed to see a joke except when some one praised other
ancient towns unduly, or placed Nuremberg or Augsburg above the 'Pearl
of the Valley.' He lived with us for four years; and whenever I sold
any picture of Rothenburg at a foreign exhibition, he always brought a
flask of Tauber wine from the cellar and drank my health. When he
finally died, I myself was altogether too much at home in the
primitive, angular old house to think of moving. Then, too, there was
no lack of commissions and work just commenced. But if the old man had
lived to see my colored prints published, I believe he would have lost
his reason for joy."
Becoming silent after this long narrative of his short life, he looked
out of the window into the ever-deepening darkness, and lost himself in
quiet revery. It finally occurred to him that the stranger had not said
one syllable in reply; and at the same time he felt her eyes steadily
regarding him from her dusky corner. "I am afraid," he said, "that
after all, I have wearied you with these petty stories. But you
yourself drew them from me, and if you knew--"
"You are greatly in error," she interrupted. "If I remain silent, it is
merely because I am pondering a riddle."
"A riddle? That I have given you?"
"Yes, you, Herr Hans Doppler. I am asking myself, how I can reconcile
the artist whom I recognize from this portfolio, with the staid,
home-loving man--you have children too?"
"Four, my lady--two boys and two little girls."
"Well then--with the young husband and father who has settled down in
his monotonous, commonplace happiness as in a snail-shell, and at most
takes an occasional journey to Nuremberg--your drawings show unusual
talent, for that you can take my word. I have seen the work of
Hilderbrandt and Werner, and the whole Roman aquarelle club, and assure
you yours would make a sensation among them. So much freedom and
spirited ease, with such grace in the landscapes and _staffage_! And
then to think that this unusual talent is doomed for the next thirty or
forty years to no other expression than an endless variation of the
towers, balconies, vaulted doors, and gabled roofs of a medieval nest
which appears in our world like an excavated German Pompeii--But pardon
me this criticism of your plan of life. I am not fitted to criticise
it. However, as you wish to know the subject of my meditation, it was
this problem: can a noble, liberal, artistic soul be so completely
filled by commonplace family happiness? It must certainly be possible.
Only to me, as I am accustomed to absolute freedom of existence, to
boundless liberty, it is incomprehensible that you, scarcely thirty
years old--"
"You are right," he interrupted, his frank, youthful face suddenly
clouding. "You have expressed something which I often said to myself at
first, but always thrust back again into a secret corner of my heart.
Do you really find that my drawings show power for something greater
and better? At the best I would fall far short of a great artist!
Meanwhile, you know Schiller's poem, 'Pegasus in Harness.' A horse that
suffers itself to be harnessed to the plough, even though it may be of
good blood, proves that it has no wings. But perhaps it might have
served for something better than ploughing. And yet, if you knew--if
only you knew my Christel and the children!"
"I do not for an instant doubt that you have a charming wife and lovely
children, Herr Hans Doppler; and nothing is farther from my thoughts
than to render you suspicious of your domestic happiness. But that you,
being so young, can regard it as final, as something never to be
interrupted, never to be laid aside even temporarily for the sake of a
higher aim--and you were even on the way to the beloved land of art,
and had certainly heard and seen enough of it at the academy to have
some presentiment of the joys awaiting you there--and nevertheless--"
"Oh, my lady!" he cried, suddenly starting up as if the narrow _coupe_
had become too close and prison-like for him, "you are repeating my own
thoughts! How often in the night, especially in clear spring nights,
when I have awakened and heard my dear wife's quiet breathing near me;
while the children were lying asleep in the neighboring room, and the
moonlight was moving so weirdly and quietly over the low walls; and the
ancient clock, which the old man wound so regularly, and which dates
from the Thirty Years' War, was ticking drowsily to and fro--how often
I have been forced to spring out of bed and look down into the valley
through the little window with the round pane! And when I have seen the
Tauber flowing along in its narrow bed as hastily as if it could not
escape too soon from its restraining banks and throw itself into the
Main, and with it into the Rhine, and thence into the ocean--how much I
have suffered, as I ground my teeth together and slunk back to bed
tired and saddened, I have never told a human soul. It seemed the
blackest ingratitude against the kind fate which had dealt with me so
gently. But the day after I could never touch a brush; and if I saw in
a paper the word Rome or Naples, the blood rushed to my head as though
I were some deserter caught on the road, and dragged handcuffed back to
his barracks."
He thrust his hand through his curly hair, and fell back in his seat.
She had regarded him during his excited speech with a keen, fixed look,
and, for the first time, his face interested her. The innocent,
youthful expression had disappeared; his clear, beautifully formed eyes
blazed; and his slender figure, in spite of the common black coat,
gained something animated, almost heroic, as well beseemed the
descendant of the "great burgomaster."
"I understand your mood," said the stranger, composedly taking a
cigarette from a small silver box and lighting it with a waxen taper,
"but just so much the less do I comprehend your action. To be sure, I
myself have always been accustomed to do only what satisfies my
nature's deepest needs. I acknowledge no chains. Either they are too
weak, and I break them; or they are too strong, and strangle me. To
remain in them alive is for me an impossibility. Do you smoke? Do not
be embarrassed. You see, I set the example."
He shook his head, thanked her, and became all attention.
"As I said," continued the lady, blowing the smoke slowly before her
with her beautiful, expressive lips, "I have no right to criticise your
plan of life. But you must allow me to wonder how a man can complain of
a difficulty rather than help himself out of it, especially where it
would be so easy. Do you fear that your wife would be untrue to you if
you should take an art journey?"
"Christel? Untrue to me?" In spite of his gloominess he laughed aloud.
"Pardon!" she said calmly; "I forgot that she is a German, and,
moreover, a Rothenburg woman. But just so much less do I comprehend why
you condemn yourself to a lifetime of such work; representing only the
church and _klimperthor_, or, as it is called--"
"_Klingerthor_, my lady."
"Well, then, all this trashy masonry and commonplace Gothic rubbish, as
if there were no Colosseum, no baths of Caracalla, no theatre at
Taormina! And what vegetation, what luxuriant growths there are among
the ruins of those old temples; what pines and cypresses, what distant
glimpses of ocean and mountains! Believe me, I myself, although I am
not yet an old woman, would have been dead and buried long ago if I had
not escaped from narrow, maddeningly lifeless surroundings, and found
salvation in that land of beauty and freedom."
"Madame is not married?"
She threw the glowing cigarette stump out of the window, pressed her
regular, little white teeth together an instant, and then said, in an
indescribably indifferent voice--
"My husband, the General, was governor of a moderately large fortress
in the interior of Russia, and naturally could not accompany me. Then,
too, at his age, it would have been hard for him to forego his home
comforts. So we decided to arrange a rendezvous somewhere on the
frontier for every two years, and since then each has lived much more
contentedly.
"I well know," she continued, as he looked at her with some
disapproval, "that this conception of married happiness is revolting to
sentimental German prejudices. But, believe me, in many respects, we
barbarians are in advance of your highly refined civilization; and we
make up for our lack of political liberty by our greater social
freedom. If you were a Russian, you would have emancipated yourself
long ago, and followed the lead of your Tauber, though in the opposite
direction. And what would you have lost by it? When you returned in a
year or two as a well-developed artist, would you not find your house
on the same spot, your wife as domestic and youthful as ever, your
children, perhaps half a head taller, but as clean and pretty as you
left them?"
"You are right! It is only too true," he stammered, pushing his hands
nervously through his hair. "Oh, if I had but seen it so clearly
before!"
"Before? A young man like you, not yet beyond thirty! But I see it now;
you are too fond of the flesh-pots of Rothenburg. You are right; remain
at home and earn an honest living. The proposition which I was just
about to make would appear to you less rational than if I commanded you
to travel in a desert and hunt tigers and crocodiles, instead of
landscape motives."
She flung the sharp-pointed dart at him with so much quiet grace that
he felt at once charmed and wounded.
"No, my lady," he cried, "you must tell me the proposition you had in
mind. Although it is only a short time since I had the good fortune to
make your acquaintance, I can nevertheless assure you that your
appearance, each of your words, has made a deep and lasting impression
on me. It is, to be plain, as if a complete change were going on in me,
and these hours with you--"
He reddened and became silent. She noticed it, and came to his aid,
although she was apparently looking beyond him.
"My proposition," she said, "will not by any means suffice to make an
entirely different man of you, but only to release the true one from
his narrow shell. I am now going to Wuerzburg to visit a sick friend.
After staying with her for two days, I shall return on this same road,
making no halt before Genoa, where I shall take passage on a steamer
bound for Palermo; for as yet I have not seen Sicily.
"Now, what Goethe has written in his 'Italian Journey' about his
companion, the artist Kniep, whom he engaged to sketch any wayside
scene which pleased his fancy, has always filled me with envy. I am no
great poet, and no rich princess. Yet I am not so poor but that I too
may grant myself such a travelling companion. Of course we now have
photography. But to you at least I need not explain how much better it
is to have an artistic hand at disposal than any photographic apparatus
whatever. I also thought it would be well for you to be introduced into
this paradise by some one who understands the language perfectly and is
no novice in the art of travelling. You would be entirely free to
remain with me as long or short a time as you pleased. The first
sentence of our compact should read: Freedom even to inconsiderateness.
And if, on the return, you should wish to linger at Rome or Florence,
the means for doing so--"
"Oh, my lady," he broke in, excitedly, "I would not think of
trespassing on your kindness and generosity under any condition. I can
well afford to spend a year in the south, and if I perceive in your
proposal a sign from heaven, it is only because your suggestion, the
prospect of seeing all these world wonders in your company, makes the
determination so much easier. For that I shall be unceasingly grateful
to you. It is indeed just as you say; my wife, my dear children--in
fact, I shall offend them less than I now imagine. Christel is so
intelligent, so self-reliant, she herself, when I explain it to
her--or better, if you could say it to her as you have to me--truly,
after Wuerzburg you must--I cannot expect you to take a trip to
Rothenburg--whoever has seen the Colosseum and the baths of Caracalla
must regard our modest, commonplace, medieval--"
The whistle of the locomotive interrupted him. The train was moving
more slowly, and lights were beginning to glimmer by the roadside.
"Steinach!" said the artist, rising and picking up his satchel and
portfolio; "our ways part here. You go farther north; I shall take the
little local train, and be home in half an hour. Oh, my lady, if you
would set a day and hour, when you are on your return--"
"Do you know," she said suddenly, looking at her watch, "I have
reflected that it would be more sensible for me to spend this night in
Rothenburg, and continue my journey to-morrow morning. I would arrive
in Wuerzburg too late to see my friend. Instead, since I am for once so
near, I will make up the deficiencies of my historical and geographical
education, and take a look at your Jerusalem on the Tauber. You will be
so good, if your wife does not object, as to be my guide to-morrow for
a while--"
"Oh, my lady," he cried in joyful excitement, "I would never have dared
to ask so much! How happy you make me, and how shall I ever--"
The train stopped and the door of the _coupe_ was opened. Having
reverentially assisted his newly won patroness to alight, Hans Doppler
accompanied her to a carriage of the second class. There she spoke
several Russian words to a small, odd-looking person in a plumed hat,
who, laden as she was with numerous boxes, satchels, and baskets,
worked her way out of the overcrowded interior into the open air,
and regarded her mistress's blonde companion with a not altogether
friendly glance of her small, Tartar eyes. The lady appeared to
explain the altered condition of things to her maid, although that
overburdened creature did not answer a word. Then, taking her young
fellow-traveller's arm, she strolled with him up and down the dark
platform in lively conversation; talking of Italy, of Russia, of the
German cities which she knew, so easily and cleverly, and with such an
agreeable spice of wickedness, that her companion felt he had never
before been so well entertained, and could never weary of listening to
this irresistible Scheherezade.
In truth, was it not like a fairy tale, that he should be walking
beside this beautiful woman, whom he had seen for the first time an
hour before; that she should have decided to follow him to his little
nest, far out of the usual route; and that such a fascinating future
should be in store for him?
They knew him very well at the little station, but when they saw him
appear in such elegant company, they doffed their hats more
respectfully than ever before.
In the light of the swinging lanterns, her pale face seemed even more
unreal and princess-like. She wore a peculiarly shaped cap of black
velvet bordered with reddish fur, and a short hooded wrap with the same
trimming. She had drawn off her gloves; and her young escort glanced
down furtively from time to time upon the large sapphire gleaming on
her little finger. He had scarcely ever seen such a slender, lily-white
hand, every part of which seemed so expressive and elegant.
But when they boarded the little local train, which had only two small,
second-class compartments besides the two-and-a-half horse-power
engine, he became somewhat uncomfortable. All three seated themselves
in one second-class carriage, since there was none of the first; and
the train began to move slowly on through the softly enveloping
moonlight. The maid betook herself to the darkest corner, and crouched
there beneath her mountain of bundles. The full light from the lamp on
the ceiling fell upon her mistress's face, and the young artist
opposite became more and more devoutly absorbed in contemplating the
nobly formed features, which corresponded so perfectly to the ideal of
beauty that he had vaguely conceived in the model classes at the
academy. But as the train approached the journey's end, he became
disheartened and depressed by the thought that the rustic nooks of his
old Rothenburg would appear very uninteresting to these wonderful eyes
which had seen half the world.
Everything that he had known and admired for so long seemed suddenly
mean and despicable; and he thought with dismay how disdainful her
delicate face would look on the morrow, when she saw all that famous
magnificence on which he had laid so much stress. His overawed fancy
flew even into his own home, and, unfortunately, things did not seem
much better there. How would his little unsophisticated wife compare
with this world traveller; and his boys, usually running about with
dishevelled heads; and his baby girls, as yet with so little knowledge
of behavior?
He regretted intensely having meddled with this pleasant adventure, and
the storylike atmosphere suddenly vanished.
Fortunately, he did not need to act just then. The stranger's eyes were
closed, and she seemed to sleep in good earnest. The narrow-eyed
Tartar, to be sure, was watching him steadily from her ambush, but she
did not speak.
At last the train stopped; the sleeper awoke, seemed to find trouble in
determining where she was, and then asked if there were any endurable
hotels in Rothenburg. Her companion, whose patriotic pride was aroused
by her contemptuous tone, recommended, with admirable reserve, the
"Golden Stag," whose omnibus was waiting at the station. Was not his
wife there to receive him? He had forbidden it, as the hour was so
late--ten o'clock--and she did not like to leave the children alone
with the maid. The next day he hoped to have the pleasure of presenting
his family to her.
To this the Russian--no longer in her former friendly mood, and
seeming, like him, secretly to regret her over-hasty decision--made no
reply.
All three, without exchanging another word, climbed into the close
hotel omnibus; and, driving through the sombre gateway, jolted over the
uneven pavement into the sleeping city.
They reached the market-place just as the moon was emerging from a mist
of clouds, and the stranger, looking out of the carriage window,
expressed herself as well pleased with the majestic town-hall, now
showing to the best advantage in the silvery moonlight. This revived
her companion's sinking spirits, and he began to speak of the building,
Rothenburg's especial pride, and its foundation after a great fire. It
was an edifice of the best Renaissance style, and in summer-time, when
the extensive space along the front was decorated with flowers, one
could hardly imagine anything more majestic and delightful.
He was still talking when they stopped before the open door of the
"Golden Stag." Hans Doppler sprang out first; then after having
assisted the stranger to alight, he bade the host good-evening, and
whispered to him to prepare his best chamber.
"Numbers 15 and 16 are empty," replied the host, bowing with great
politeness.
"You will have a beautiful outlook into the Tauber valley, my lady,"
said the artist. "When the moon is higher, you will be delighted with
the double bridge below and the little Gothic church. Early tomorrow
morning I shall presume to inquire how you have slept, and when you
wish to make your trip through the town."
She noticed that he was a trifle cool and ill-humored. Immediately she
gave him her hand, pressed his as he respectfully kissed her slender
fingers, and said: "Until to-morrow, dear friend! Do not come too
early. I am a night-bird, and your Rothenburg moonlight in addition to
the Tauber-nixy will not allow me to rest just yet, I am sure."
With this she followed the landlord into the house; and the maid,
relieved of some of her burdens by a servant, hurried after her.
Hans Doppler set out on his way home with much less eagerness than was
usual with him when returning from some short trip; indeed, he was like
an extremely tired, thoughtful man who is uncertain of the welcome he
may receive. His house, built close to the town-wall near the Burgthor,
faced the northwest; while the windows of the inn which he was leaving
looked towards the southwest. He racked his brains on the way in the
effort to decide which would be better: to make a full confession that
evening, or postpone it till the morrow. As soon as he had escaped from
the dangerous stranger's influence, the whole matter seemed to him
extremely unpleasant, if not fairly dishonest and wrong. Yet he had
already gone too far to extricate himself without dishonor. The next
day must be lived through; after that he would feign some pressing
obligation, which, by forcing him to remain at home, would prevent him
from accompanying her just then.
Having thus satisfied his conscience with regard to his unsuspecting
young wife, he became more at ease. Yet it was with ever-decreasing
haste that he ascended the steep street above the market-place, till he
reached the tower of the Burgthor. As he turned into the narrow alley
leading to his house, he saw in the distance a dark figure standing
beneath the round arch of the garden wall; and he scarcely had time to
recognize his little wife before a pair of soft firm arms were thrown
around his neck and a warm mouth sought his in the darkness.
As he was carrying a satchel and portfolio, he could neither return the
embrace nor prevent it, as he was inclined to do; for he noticed that
some of the neighboring windows were open, and feared that the tender
welcome might be observed.
She saw his embarrassment, however, and calmed him by saying that they
were only some old people, who knew long ago that she was still
sentimental after seven years of marriage. Then, chatting softly and
pleasantly of many small occurrences, she led him into the house, where
every one was already asleep. It was an ancient ark, whose walls had
outlasted many severe storms and severer wars. Its age was even more
evident within, where all the woodwork was black and cracked, the
stairs were steep and crooked, and the walls were parted at the seams,
in spite of numerous props. But in order to remedy all these evils, it
would have been necessary to demolish the old structure and build it
afresh, and this the former owner could as little persuade himself to
do as his daughter and her young husband, in whose veins the blood of
the "great burgomaster" still flowed.