That night Emma of Ilmenau went to her chamber with a heavy heart, and
her dusky eyes were troubled with tears. She was one of those gentle
beings, who seem created only to love and to be loved. A shade of
melancholy softened her character. She shunned the glare of daylight
and of society, and wished to be alone. Like the evening primrose, her
heart opened only after sunset; but bloomed through the dark night with
sweet fragrance. Her mother, on the contrary, flaunted in the garish
light of society. There was no sympathy between them. Their souls never
approached, never understood each other, and words were often spoken
which wounded deeply. And therefore Emma of Ilmenau went to her chamber
that night with tears in her eyes.
She was followed by her French chamber-maid, Madeleine, a native of
Strassburg, who had grown old in the family. In her youth, she had been
poor,--and virtuous because she had never been tempted; and, now that
she had grown old, and seen no immediate reward for her virtue, as is
usual with weak minds, she despaired of Providence, and regretted she
had never been tempted. Whilst this unfortunate personage was lighting
the wax tapers on the toilet, and drawing the bed-curtains, and
tattling about the room, Emma threw herself into an arm-chair, and,
crossing her hands in her lap, and letting her head fall upon her
bosom, seemed lost in a dream.
"Why have these gentle feelings been given me!" said she in her heart.
"Why have I been born with all these warm affections,--these ardent
longings after what is good, if they lead only to sorrow and
disappointment? I would love some one;--love him once and
forever;--devote myselfto him alone,--live for him,--die for him,--
exist alone in him! But alas! in all this wide world there is none to
love me, as I would be loved,--none whom I may love, as I am capable of
loving. How empty, how desolate, seems the world about me! Why has
Heaven given me these affections, only to fall and fade!"
Alas! poor child! thou too must learn like others, that the sublime
mystery of Providence goes on in silence, and gives no explanation of
itself,--no answer to our impatient questionings!
"Bless me, child, what ails you?" exclaimed Madeleine, perceiving that
Emma paid no attention to her idle gossip. "When I was of your age--"
"Do not talk to me now, good Madeleine. Leave me, I wish to be alone?"
"Well, here is something," continued the maid, taking a billet from her
bosom, "which I hope will enliven you. When I was of your age--"
"Hush! hush!" said Emma, taking the billetfrom the hard hand of
Madeleine. "Once more I beg you, leave me! I wish to be alone!"
Madeleine took the lamp and retired slowly, wishing her young mistress
many good nights and rosy dreams. Emma broke the seal of the note. As
she read, her face became deadly pale, and then, as quick as thought, a
crimson blush gleamed on her cheek, and her hands trembled. Tenderness,
pity, love, offended pride, the weakness and dignity of woman, were all
mingled in her look, changing and passing over her fine countenance
like cloud-shadows. She sunk back in her chair, covering her face with
her hands, as if she would hide it from herself and Heaven.
"He loves me!" said she to herself; "loves me; and is married to
another, whom he loves not! and dares to tell me this! O, never,--
never,--never! And yet he is so friendless and alone in this
unsympathizing world,--and an exile, and homeless! I can but pity
him;--yet I hate him, and will see him no more!"
This short reverie of love and hate was brokenby the sound of a clear,
mellow voice, which, in the universal stillness of the hour, seemed
almost like the voice of a spirit. It was a voice, without the
accompaniment of any instrument, singing those sweet lines of Goethe;
"Under the tree-tops is quiet now!
In all the woodlands hearest thou
Not a sound!
The little birds are asleep in the trees,
Wait! wait! and soon like these,
Sleepest thou!"
Emma knew the voice and started. She rushed to the window to close it.
It was a beautiful night, and the stars were shining peacefully over
the mountain of All-Saints. The sound of the Neckar was soft and low,
and nightingales were singing among the brown shadows of the woods. The
large red moon shone, like a ruby, in the horizon's ample ring; and
golden threads of light seemed braided together with the rippling
current of the river. Tall and spectral stood the white statues on the
bridge. The outline of thehills, the castle, the arches of the bridge,
and the spires and roofs of the town were as strongly marked as if cut
out of pasteboard. Amid this fairy scene, a little boat was floating
silently down the stream. Emma closed the window hastily, and drew the
curtains close.
"I hate him; and yet I will pray for him," said she, as she laid her
weary head upon that pillow, from which, but a few months before, she
thought she should never raise it again. "O, that I had died then! I
dare not love him, but I will pray for him!"
Sweet child! If the face of the deceiver comes so often between thee
and Heaven, I tremble for thy fate! The plant that sprang from Helen's
tears destroyed serpents;--would that from thine might spring up
heart's-ease;--some plant, at least, to destroy the serpents in thy
bosom. Believe me, upon the margin of celestial streams alone, those
simples grow, which cure the heartache!
And this the silent stars beheld, looking downfrom heaven, and told it
not again. This, likewise, the Frau Himmelhahn beheld, looking from her
chamber-window, and was not so discreet as the silent stars.