house, he for the first time found fault with it, although he was
discreetly silent. As he entered the sitting-room, the low, raftered
ceiling, the extremely old-fashioned furniture, and the family
portraits on the walls struck him as shabby and ordinary; though the
little brass lamp with its green ornaments looked very cheerful on the
covered table, and lighted up the bright plates and dishes set out for
his modest evening meal. At such home-comings he was usually bubbling
over with merry speeches; tonight he was perfectly quiet, and, to
conceal it, forced a continual smile, and stroked his pretty wife's
cheeks in a fatherly manner which caused her much secret wonder.
But in the chamber where the children were sleeping the seal seemed to
break from his heart and lips; especially when the younger boy, the
favorite because of his close resemblance to his mother, awoke and
threw his arms about his father's neck with a cry of joy.
Hans immediately gave him a toy which he had bought in Nuremberg and a
large piece of gingerbread, both merely for a hasty look, as the lamp
was soon removed again. Then, sitting on the old sofa, whose hair-cloth
covering had never before seemed so cold and hard to him, he ate his
supper, drank some of the red Tauber wine from his own vineyard, and
told the fortunate result of his business trip to his young wife.
Christel sat opposite, eating nothing, but resting her elbows on the
table. And then he had chanced to journey from Ansbach with a Russian
lady, the wife of an old general, and she had wished to see Rothenburg,
and was stopping at the "Stag." Unfortunately, he could not avoid
escorting her around somewhat the next day; indeed, he was considering
if it would not be necessary to invite her to dinner.
"You know, Hans," said the young wife, "that our Mary understands very
little about cooking; and I myself, unless I know beforehand, cannot do
things by magic. But why do you wish to invite this utterly strange old
lady ceremoniously to our house so soon? She has not called upon us as
yet. Is it in some way important for you to entertain her especially?
Is she an old acquaintance of your Munich days? Then, indeed, I must do
my best."
"No," he said, bending his head rather low over his plate; "she is
neither a former acquaintance, nor is she particularly old. And you are
right, child; we must let her come to us. She will certainly come, for
I have told her so much about you and the children. You will see--an
interesting woman--very artistic. Her goodwill may be very useful to me
some time, for she knows half the world."
"Well, I am eager to see her," replied the young wife. "For the rest,
that even Russians should become interested in Rothenburg--"
He reddened, knowing best what had caused the suddenly awakened
interest in Rothenburg. "Child," he said, "go to bed now. Your bedtime
hour struck long ago. I am still somewhat excited by my journey, but I
shall soon follow you."
"You are right," she said, yawning heartily, thereby showing her large,
but pretty, red mouth, with its shining teeth; "I noticed at once that
you were not feeling like yourself; your eyes wander restlessly. Open
the window and sit awhile in the cool air. Good-night."
She kissed him hastily and went into the neighboring bedroom, leaving
the door open. Then he arose, pushed back the shutters, and opened the
window with the small round pane. The night wind had scattered the
mists from the moon; the winding valley, with its blossoming trees and
freshly ploughed fields, lay beneath him in silvery dimness; and in the
deep hush he could hear the whispering of the Tauber's waves as they
rushed past the little, white water-tower which his forefather had
built. He became very contented and peaceful; this time his thoughts
did not follow the course of the little stream to the limitless ocean,
although the conditions were as often before; he could hear at his
right the quiet breathing of his children, on his left the gentle tread
of his little wife, who before retiring had still this and that task to
do. He felt as if he had merely dreamed the Russian fairy tale; at
least, it would not disturb his sleep that night.
When Hans Doppler awoke in the early morning and found that his little
wife, who had been busy in the children's room for some time, was no
longer near him, his first thought was of all that lay in store for him
with his elegant patroness. In sober morning light, his dwelling, his
historical furniture, his dear wife and rosy-cheeked children seemed
even less charming than on the previous evening. He found Christel's
neat house-dress much too provincial in cut, and noticed for the
first time that Heinz's trousers were patched with a piece of cloth
unlike the rest of the stuff in color and pattern. His own attire of
yesterday displeased him exceedingly. It was as respectably black as an
office-seeker's; for it had seemed suitable to the young artist to
conduct his business with the Nuremberg gentlemen in clothing which
should sufficiently prove his business solidity. Moreover, he always
dressed like every one else in the town, since, being the only one of
his class, he would have been conspicuous everywhere if arrayed as an
artist. But he had no wish to reappear before that cosmopolitan woman
in the garb of a young Philistine; so from the deepest recesses of his
clothes-chest he drew forth a velvet jacket, the same in which he had
first come to Rothenburg, a broad-brimmed, black felt hat, and a pair
of light trousers. Christel opened her eyes when he appeared thus
attired. It was a shame for the good coat to hang in the closet for the
moths, he declared. Moreover, now, when his fellow-citizens would soon
learn that they were destined to become famous far and wide through
him, he was no longer going to appear ashamed of his art.
To this the discreet little wife made no rejoinder, but regarded him
with quietly critical eyes. She herself might well do a little extra
to-day, he called back as he went out. It was uncertain when the
general's wife would call. She would be welcome at any time, replied
Christel. Moreover, she was always in a condition to be seen, and
the children too. Those who did not find them pretty enough in their
every-day clothes had bad taste. In Russia, as she had read, they ran
about perfectly ragged, and unwashed besides, like very beasts.
With this she lifted little Lulu on her arm, stroked back her curly,
blonde hair, and kissed her with quiet pride on the bright blue eyes
which she inherited from her father. Christel's eyes were brown.
Hans Doppler, suppressing a slight sigh, exerted himself to smile back
at his little family; then hurried on his way to the "Golden Stag."
He knew it was still too early to call there, but he could not endure
the narrow house and his secretly wicked thoughts. He had intended to
stroll about a little before visiting the stranger, but as he came to
the market-place and looked down the street towards the inn, he saw the
lady standing in the centre of the street below, opposite the little
Church of St. John, attentively studying through her lorgnette its
Gothic windows and ancient carvings, among which a black
_Christophorus_ was especially prominent.
He was dismayed at his tardiness. But as she saw him hastening towards
her, she greeted him from the distance with a cheerful nod, and called:
"You see, dear friend, the spirit of Rothenburg possesses me already. I
am even now deep in admiration of the good old times. From mere
impatience I could not sleep longer than seven o'clock, to Sascha's
horror, for she is a marmot. I sprang out of bed in my bare feet in
order to admire by morning light the Cadolzeller, no _Codolzeller_
church, and the double bridge down in the valley; for they had already
enchanted me by moonlight. Your Tauber-nixy is a maiden of very good
taste. I have also learned some Rothenburg stories and sayings. When I
praised the baking at breakfast, the head-waiter quoted to me the old
proverb:
'In Rothenburg on the Tauber,
Both milling and baking are clean;'
and as I came out of the house to reconnoitre a little by myself, the
landlord immediately remarked to me that this was the famous
_Schmiedegasse_, where, during the peasant revolt, blood had flowed
like a brook when sixty rebellious leaders were executed on the place
before the market by some Margrave. If I remain here three days I shall
become a perfect Rothenburger. For truly, everything that I see pleases
me. You too please me better than yesterday. Do you know that your
artist costume is very becoming? But come, we must not linger so long
in one spot. Do not take pains to show me the so-called remarkable
sights, but rather the nooks that no Baedecker has noticed and marked.
And as I am a commandant's wife, I will look first of all at the towers
and walls, so that if Russia sometime lays siege to Rothenburg, I may
revenge myself for its present conquest of me."
He gazed at her steadily, as she chattered on with easy volubility. She
wore the travelling gown of yesterday, but with a more coquettish air,
and the fur cap rested provokingly over one ear. Then he offered her
his arm, and leading her through little side streets to the still
well-preserved wall which enclosed the entire town, he told her that
the town formerly had as many towers as there are weeks in the year;
that most of them were still standing; and that in war-time, during
many hundred years, both friends and foes had rushed to these towers
either to seek refuge there with goods and families, or to seize them
as points of vantage. She listened to his statements in decorous
silence, glancing to and fro with her sharp eyes and occasionally
interrupting him by an exclamation of pleasure, whenever they came to
any unusual masonry, any artistic hovel hidden away among the
buttresses, or the end of some street through which they could look
back into the crooked old town. Then, climbing up some ancient steps
leading to the top of the town-wall, they continued their way beneath
the low, sheltering roof under which the worthy burghers had so often
stood and returned the enemy's fire. Now and then stopping at a
loophole, she would look out and ask him to tell her the names of the
surrounding country places, and of the roads that led through them.
Thus they went from the dark tower on through the "Roederthor" to the
white tower, where she finally declared that she had satisfied her
curiosity about the fortifications and wished to return to the town.
But an image of the holy Wolfgang claimed her attention for a while
longer. He stands in a niche near his little church, one hand resting
on a model of the church, the other meekly and sorrowfully uplifting
his broken crosier.
"If I should remain in Rothenburg," she said, "this holy man would
become dangerous to me. See what a lovely, innocent, and yet wise face
he has! I have always wished to meet a living saint and play the
temptress for a while. Do you believe that this one could have
withstood me if I had disregarded his soul?"
He awkwardly stammered some jesting reply. In reality it seemed to him
that neither worldlings nor saints could escape this fascinating woman,
if she wished to cast her nets about them. As he beheld her slender
figure gliding through the shadowy passages, her face now and then
lighted by a gleam of sunshine, his heart throbbed with a strange
excitement, which he attributed to artistic feeling. But it estranged
and mortified him that she did not once refer to yesterday's plan of
the Sicilian trip. And notwithstanding all yesterday's resolutions, in
spirit he already saw himself climbing the steps of the ampitheatre at
Taormina by her side, and heard her express her delight in terms very
different from those of to-day over an old watchtower or postern-gate.
Once more she leaned upon his arm, and they returned to the town. Then
he led her directly to the old Church of St. James, the town's only
cathedral. However, she regarded the beautiful Gothic structure with
much less interest than he had expected, and was coldly indifferent to
the three famous altars with their admirable carving.
But she looked long at the glass case wherein the holy blood is kept,
and crossed herself. He thought to impress her by telling her that
Heinrich Toppler set up the high altar and collected the pictures by
Michael Wohlgemuth, and by showing her the great burgomaster's arms
with the two dice; but, stifling a little yawn, she requested to go
into the streets again. There her interest was reawakened by the black
stain on the arch of the gateway, beneath which a street passes through
the church. A peasant, he told her, having cursed as he was driving his
team through the place, was seized by the devil and flung high against
the arch; the body fell down, but the poor soul stuck fast.
At this she laughed heartily.
"You are foolish antiquaries, you gentlemen of Rothenburg!" she cried,
"and now let me see your town-hall, and then enough for to-day."
"Do you know," she said, as they were retracing the short way to the
market-place, "that it really seems to me as if this German Pompeii
were inhabited by nothing but good people, whose truth and honesty,
having been covered up like the old stones for several hundred years,
has now come to light again? As yet I have not seen one evil face. They
all greet each other; it is like a large, well-bred family, wherein
each one behaves politely because he is observed by all the others.
You, too, once out in the world would seem more merry and enterprising.
Now you have the same pious look. You must not take offence if I am
often a trifle critical."
He eagerly assured her that, quite the contrary, her frank, witty
comments on everything interested him very much. Soon afterwards in the
court-room of the town-hall he was subjected to a severe test. While
the castellan was relating the story of the great draught, that
celebrated saving deed of the old burgomaster, Nusch, who redeemed the
forfeited lives of the whole council, and obtained mercy for the
townsfolk from wicked Tilly, their harsh conqueror, by performing the
almost impossible feat of emptying a flagon of thirty Bavarian quarts
at one draught--the haughty lady broke into merry laughter. The pretty
story itself, she afterwards explained, did not seem so absurd to her
as the solemn and affected manner of its narration, which inflated this
mere feat of strength to a deed of the most noble heroism; and it had
also occurred to her that this legend somewhat resembled the story of
the Roman knight Curtius, except that he had jumped _into_ an abyss for
his country's sake, whereas the Rothenburg Curtius had the abyss in
himself--and several other irreverent jests.
He sadly acknowledged to himself that this woman, whom he considered a
creature of unusual perfection in other respects, was completely
lacking in the historical spirit.
"Do you wish to ascend the tower?" he asked. "It is a trifle appalling,
but perfectly safe. The walls, from the ground to the highest point,
are all fastened with iron braces, so that the hollow four-cornered
pillars hold fast together; but often in a storm the tall, slender
tower sways to and fro like a shaken tree."
"I am sorry the air is so quiet to-day," she replied; "of course we
must go up."
He preceded her up the steep wooden steps until they reached the
topmost part, where, after they had knocked, a trap-door was opened,
and a little gray-headed man, the tower-keeper, greeted them kindly.
She looked observantly about the airy room, through whose four small
windows the bright noonday sun was streaming, seated herself on the
footstool from which the lonely, little tower-keeper had arisen, and
commenced a lively conversation with him. On the table lay several
sewing implements and a half-finished waistcoat; for the watchman was
evidently a tailor, and adorned not only an official position, but his
fellow-citizens as well. Putting on the steel thimble, in which her
delicate finger tip was fairly lost, she took a few stitches, and asked
whether he would not surrender his office and his work to her. He was
the only man in the world whom she envied; since, in spite of his high
position, he was not annoyed with visits; and if he happened to be
struck by lightning in some thunder-storm, he would not be far from
heaven. To this the little man replied that he had a wife and children,
with a daily salary of only sixty pennies, so his life was not
care-free after all. Then he showed her the signal apparatus for fires,
and complained of the distress he often suffered when the tower swayed
so that the water spilled over the edge of his keys. Then she inquired
if they could go out upon the gallery surrounding the top of the tower.
The watchman at once lowered a little ladder from the ceiling, climbed
it, and opened a metal trap which covered a small triangular opening.
Would the gracious lady risk crawling through there? Certainly she
would; she was slim enough even yet; but the gentlemen should go first.
Hans Doppler, who had never been able to persuade his little wife to
force herself through the narrow hole, gave expression to his
admiration of her spirit by an ardent look, and promptly clambered out
after the watchman. The next instant he saw the beautiful woman
appearing from the opening, and offered his hand to assist her. Then,
separated from the dizzy depths below merely by a slender railing, they
stood shoulder to shoulder in the narrow passage near the belfry,
drawing deep breaths of the glorious air. The city lay at their feet as
neatly spread out as a Nuremberg box of toys; the towers of the Church
of St. James, with the swallows circling about them, were far below;
they saw the silvery Tauber winding through the country, and the smoke
from a hundred chimneys eddying upwards in thin spirals. It was midday,
and the streets were almost deserted.
Suddenly she turned towards her companion. "If two people should kiss
each other up here, could any one below see it?" she asked.
His face became darkly red.
"It would depend on whether they had good eyes or not," he said; "but
as far as I know, no one has ever observed anything of the sort."
"Truly not?" she said, with a little laugh. "Do lovers never come up
here on the tower, or even people who are tempted by the lofty point of
view into some trifling madness? Only imagine how it would scandalize
the good simpletons down there if, half squinting in the afternoon
light, they should look up here and suddenly see such merry misconduct.
Then perhaps the magistrate would cause a bill to be posted: 'Kissing
is officially forbidden under a penalty of three marks.'"
He laughed in great embarrassment.
"I once ascended the dome of St. Peter's," she continued, "with a young
Frenchman, who, as we were sitting in the great copper sphere, insisted
that he positively must embrace me--that it was a venerable old custom.
But I forbade it, just because up there one is perfectly safe from
prying eyes. The danger of being seen might have attracted me. One must
have spirit in foolish pranks, else they are nothing more than foolish.
Do you not think so?"
He nodded violently. He was becoming more and more embarrassed and
uncomfortable. Yet at the same time he realized this woman's great
power over him.
"You are born for the high places of life," he stammered; "in your
presence I feel so free and light that if I remained near you long I am
sure I should have wings to carry me far beyond the conventionalities
of life."
She glanced sidewise at him with a keen, penetrating look." "Well,
then, why will you not let yourself be carried?"
He gazed perplexedly down into the depths below them. At this instant
the clock at the Church of St. James struck twelve, and immediately the
little watchman gave twelve strokes to the great, dark bell behind
them.
The woman shrugged her shoulders and turned away. "Come," she said
coldly; "it is late, and your wife will keep the soup waiting for you."
Then drawing her gown smoothly about her hips till it clung tight to
her knees and ankles, she once more disappeared in the narrow opening,
seeking the ladder rounds cautiously with her little feet. He came to
her aid too late. When he arrived in the tower-room below she was
already standing before the tailor's little mirror arranging her hair.
She seemed to have lost some of her friendliness, and he privately
acknowledged that it was his fault. He reproached himself severely for
having behaved like a blockhead, in neglecting to seize his good
fortune by the forelock. Not that he intended any harm, any
faithlessness whatever to his good wife! It was only meant for a merry
pastime, like ransoming forfeits, and he had spoiled the game. What
must she think of his Rothenburg stiffness! And would she trouble
herself further about such a clumsy boor?
She bade a brief good-by to the tower watchman, and almost petrified
him by pressing a thaler into his hand. On the way down neither spoke a
word. And even in the broad, quiet _Herrengasse_ he walked dumbly
beside her; although a while before he would certainly have explained
to her that the tablets which she saw on some of the houses announced
where and how long this and that great monarch had lodged during the
old-time imperial feasts. She divined that regret and vexation sealed
his lips, and as his penitence pleased her very well, she began to chat
in her old familiar way again.
As they came through the _Burgthor_, out upon the narrow ledge covered
with trees and flowers, which hundreds of years before had supported
the real Rothenburg, she expressed a vivid pleasure in the old trees,
with their still blossomless branches, and in the view at the right and
left. Then he too became more cheerful, and pointed out to her the
little water-tower down in the valley, which Heinrich Toppler had
built, and in whose modest interior he had entertained King Wenzel.
"And up there," he said, "where you see four small windows--the house
wall forms a part of the town wall--there I live, and if you will do me
the honor--"
"Not now," she said hastily; "I have dragged you around too long
already. I shall go back to the inn alone, for I could now find my way
through the town in clouds and darkness; and if I should lose my way,
so much the better. _La recherche de l'inconnu_--that has always been
my life purpose. You too go home now; I invite myself to your house
this afternoon for a cup of coffee. But, understand, you are not to
call for me. Adieu!"
She gave him her hand, but after having scorned her lips, he could not
persuade himself to kiss a mere glove. So, strangely agitated, he left
her.
When Hans Doppler arrived at his house, he found that, instead of
delaying dinner, Christel had saved his portion for him. She thought he
would dine at the hotel with his ancient friend, and the children were
hungry. She brought out the simple fare, now so distasteful to him, and
then, seating herself opposite, prattled on in her calmly cheerful way;
talking of many things which seemed thoroughly insipid and worthless to
him to-day, after his glimpse of the "high places of life." All the
children, except the oldest, who was now attending school, were playing
in the garden, and were not in their best clothes.
"Listen, child," he said. "You might as well put another bow in your
hair, and dress Lulu in her blue frock. The general's wife is coming to
take coffee with us."
"Is this bow no longer good enough?" she replied, regarding herself in
the mirror. "I made it only eight days ago. Why should we put on so
much ceremony because an old Russian wishes to know us?"
"Hm!" said he. "I have already told you she is far from old--between
thirty and forty--and very elegant, and since we have the things, why
should we appear poorer than necessary? To be sure, we cannot change
the old furniture, but you might at least put away those thin, brittle
spoons, and have the new ones instead; and if you will not dress in
state--"
He faltered, although she had not interrupted him by a word. But her
look, seeking to read the depths of his heart, troubled him.