IN NEUKUHREN.
During all these occurrences, life in the bathing-place, Neukuhren,
continued on its course, like a wound-up watch. Professor Baute and Dr.
Reising still lived upon a philosophical war-footing; Baute often
maintained, with an energy which seemed to disarm any contradiction,
that Hegel's philosophy was quite incomprehensible to any reasonable
creature, that the somersaults of his ideas were only harlequinades of
thought, and that if he had read a few chapters of logic he felt like
the scholar of Faust--
"My brain with all that nonsense reels,
As if in my head revolved mill wheels."
Dr. Reising paled with internal annoyance, and bit his lips; he pushed
his rebellious hair back from his head with a nervously trembling hand,
but he took tall Albertina for an example, who, like a goddess of
silence, always seemed to lay a finger upon his lips. He, too, was
silent, and he had his reasons for it, he was now making great progress
in the conquest of the Professor's seven daughters. Dr. Kuhl had
advised him to fix his eyes upon one of two youngest, who had the
longest future before them, and of whom, perhaps, something might still
be made; but when, obediently to such experienced counsel, he devoted
particular attention to Gretchen and Marie, he encountered a decided
repulse, as the two foolish creatures did not know how to appreciate
the great importance of a Hegelite. Gretchen and Marie, who quarrelled
the live-long day, were only unanimous on one point--that Dr. Reising's
nose had an ugly termination, and that there was something intolerably
knowing in his mode of placing his finger upon it. Gretchen considered
that his voice was too thin, that his words could be passed through the
eye of a needle, and Marie said the Doctor appeared to her like a
nibbling mouse.
Of what assistance was all Dr. Kuhl's wisdom? It was rendered futile by
circumstances. Forced to retreat by the young troops, Reising met with
better success before the old guards. He did not know himself how it
came about, but Euphrasia, with her two Slavonian plaits, and her
coquettish smile, had conquered his heart, and here, too, he
encountered a readiness that was only ill concealed beneath mock-modest
resistance. And she was the eldest.
To a head accustomed to think correctly, this was a decided advantage,
for how much evil has not befallen many a family by the marriage of a
younger daughter preceding that of an elder one. Surely everything in
the world must be done in proper rotation. "In proper rotation" is one
of the principles of creation, and the Doctor did little to offend them
when he wooed the ripest beauty of the Baute family. But, from want of
other conquests, as Dr. Kuhl was absent, and, according to report, was
unattainable for several reasons, Ophelia and Lori had also resolved to
be pleased with Reising, and to cast out their nets over him. Thus the
Baute family performed a sort of "Midsummer Night's Dream," a rushing
to and fro, seeking and evading ensued, such as only the sap of the
wonderful flower, "Love-in-Idleness," can produce.
There they sat together in a jasmine bower, Reising and Euphrasia; he
had caught her, and she had let herself be caught with pleasure. She
sat there reading Puschkin's poems, and her two blonde plaits moved
about most gracefully when she shook her head over any of the poet's
bold or inadmissible thoughts.
He had come to her; at first she started at this surprise, but then
resigned herself to the inevitable. As is befitting womanly modesty,
when alone with a strange man, she did not venture to look straightly
at him; now and again she cast a glance towards him, in which flashed
as much meaning as possible.
"Puschkin is a great poet," said she, in a kind of ecstasy. "Indeed, I
love the Russian poets; they are not such Philistines as the Germans.
What views! One sees that they belong to a nation that rules the
earth!"
"Very beautiful, Fräulein Euphrasia! But still the world is ruled by
the mind, and it is the German mind that is called to the world's
dominion."
"Herbart, or Hegel?" asked Euphrasia, smiling coquettishly.
"Oh, my Fräulein! You touch a very tender spot in my life; it makes me
so sad that I cannot hold the same opinions as your father."
"Why sad?" asked Euphrasia. "Learned men are seldom of the same
opinion."
"Oh, you know; you must know why it makes me sad!"
"Not at all," replied the fair one, smiling unconsciously.
"I should wish above everything that all men of intellect should
recognise Hegel as their mental guide; what is more adapted to such
guidance than a system which inculcates the progress of man in the
consciousness of freedom. What does Herbart teach?--all respect to your
father! Nothing of the sort! He confuses the good and the beautiful in
a lamentable manner; nowhere does he speak of the progress of mankind.
With him the mind is a _tabula rasa_, where different ideas agree to
meet. Some are stronger, others weaker; they create a king of the rats,
and hang one upon another. It is an excellent comedy; there some tumble
down again headlong over the threshold of knowledge! Ah, my Fräulein!
that may perhaps suit the ideas which one entertains when knitting
stockings, but not the ideas which shall found the world's existence."
"Papa may be mistaken," said Euphrasia. "Our mother always maintained
that he was mistaken, and if this occurred in matters that we
understand, it is probably also the case in those that we do not
comprehend."
"Schiller certainly maintained," continued Reising, "that only 'error
is life, and knowledge is death,' but which German University could
choose such a motto? Why, in that case all would be changed into
churchyards, because knowledge is their life, and inconceivably much is
known, my Fräulein!"
"Certainly, certainly, Herr Doctor, inconceivably much, and even by
single individuals, yourself for instance," said Euphrasia, as she
bowed humbly before Hegel's all-knowing pupil.
"At least a _horror vacui_ assails us true disciples of knowledge from
a Socratian standpoint. We are to know that we can know nothing; of
what use, then, would be the search of a whole life-time? But, my
Fräulein, it is not about that I would now speak with you. Even the
difference of opinions is as old as the world, but I only wished to
tell you that it is a misfortune if we, your father and I, cannot
agree."
"Oh, there are some points," said Euphrasia, rather hastily, "about
which this unanimity is not so difficult."
"Do you think so, my Fräulein?" said the Doctor, quickly, as he passed
his hand several times through his bristly hair. "Oh, you make me
happy--if I dared hope, yes, I must confess to you, I must--"
Just at this moment, when Euphrasia hung so devoutly upon the lips of
the future private tutor that her plaits even forgot their otherwise
wonted pendulum-like motions, malicious chance brought her two dear
sisters, Ophelia and Lori, upon the scene, who, behind the creepers
around the arbour, had listened, unperceived, to Reising's last
outpourings, and now believed that the time had arrived for them to
come forward.
"We bring interesting news, dear sister," said Lori, who spitefully
remarked the effect produced by her appearance.
Euphrasia rose, glowing with anger, for such an interruption in one of
the most beautiful moments of her life, and which promised to be still
much more beautiful, had enraged her intensely. Doctor Reising, it is
true, as Hegel's pupil, always looked upon chance as unreasoning, but
this one appeared to be a stronger argument than ever in favour of the
immortal master's doctrine than all other chances which had already
befallen him in his young life.
"What is the matter?" asked Euphrasia, sternly. Her whole demeanour
assumed an air of command, and had Reising been a better psychologist,
he would have discovered no favourable reading of the horoscope for his
wedded future in the tone and manner of his Euphrasia.
"We walked quickly," said Ophelia, "and wanted to rest for a moment."
And she sat down upon the bench, breathing with difficulty and sighing,
and darted one of those glances, soft as velvet, which flatter a
susceptible heart wonderfully, at Doctor Reising, who stood near her.
Her eyes were furnished with long silken lashes, and as they were her
sole recognised beauty, she had brought the skilful management of them
to a most artistic state of perfection; she laid claim to
sentimentality, which was peculiarly favoured by this dowry of Nature.
When she cast her eyes modestly down, they disappeared almost entirely
beneath their silken curtain; if she turned them up, it lay like a
canopy above their rapturous glance. But Doctor Reising did not possess
his friend Doctor Kuhl's versatility in the remotest degree. Ophelia's
eyelashes had no power over him after Euphrasia's plaits had bound him
in their fetters, and he looked coldly down upon those speaking,
upturned eyes like a dreary, rainy sky upon two widely opened flower
calyx.
"There is to be a large entertainment," said Lori, dancing to and fro.
"Doctor Kuhl has just told us of it, and we came, dear sister, to bring
you the glad news."
"What do I care about your entertainment?"
"Oh, we are all to be invited. Herr von Blanden has engaged himself in
Warnicken, and to-morrow will celebrate his betrothal. They are to
dance under the big pear tree."
The news was not without its effect upon Euphrasia; she leaned her head
upon her hand, and said, thoughtfully--
"What shall we wear?"
"Our summer dresses, of course," replied Lori. "I, my sap-green, you,
your violet. Ophelia, to be sure, has an ugly pink dress. The bodice is
much too high; it makes her look like a _picottee_, with a stem that is
broken near the top. Emma is sensible, and always wears dark clothes,
but Albertina's white dress still bears traces of the last picnic, and
is covered with every variety of soil. What our two little ones wear
does not matter; no one notices those half-grown up creatures."
After this weighty affair had been quickly settled by loquacious Lori,
Euphrasia found time to enquire who the bride was.
"A little girl from Warnicken," said Lori, in a tone of indifference.
"The daughter of a Regierungsrath. She has no fortune, and opinions
differ as to her beauty."
"Oh, heavens, what luck!" sighed Ophelia, "such a wealthy, noble
landowner."
"Some say," continued Lori, "he had met her at the seaside in a wood,
where she was standing, wreathed in garlands of leaves, like a dryad
just stepped forth out of the trunk of an oak, and there she bewitched
him, as nothing of the sort ever appeared to him in his own forests in
Masuren. Others, on the contrary, say he met her on the sea; it was a
novel kind of fishing, he himself was more the fish than the fisherman,
as she has cast her net with great skill. Who can tell how it occurred?
Besides, it is perfectly immaterial; the principal thing is, that
to-morrow evening there will be dancing under the pear tree."
"But we must return," said Ophelia.
"We only came to fetch you. Herr von Blanden is going from table to
table inviting the people; we must not delay. Doctor Kuhl will
introduce us to him."
"Come, Doctor Reising!"
"There is no such great hurry," said Euphrasia. "I have seen Her von
Blanden several times already, he does not interest me! I do not like
those aristocratic landowners; certainly he looks very different from
the rest; he has a pair of remarkable eyes, but in reality they are all
moulded in the same fashion. So if you like, we will remain here."
But the sisterly rivals would not allow that, their eloquence on the
subject was of such convincing power, or rather was so clad with thorns
of every description, that the Doctor and the heiress of the house of
Baute, found it most advisable to yield.
The visitors at Neukuhren were in a state of great excitement, the
committee of amusement had announced its sittings to be permanent; all
were invited by Blanden; all wished to prove their gratitude at the
betrothal by some act or attention. A concert should precede the dance
under the large pear tree; there was so much young musical talent, that
a large amateur orchestra was easily formed, and all private performers
had brought their instruments with them, so that any one strolling
along the village street of Neukuhren on a quiet summer's evening would
hear, now on the right, now on the left, sounds like wonderful solos of
a separated band of musicians, to which chance often lent discordant
symphony. An assessor who played first upon the cornet, then the
trumpet, made himself most audible; people pretended to remark that the
sea then always became particularly disturbed, as though the Tritons
and Nereides stormed upon the strand because they were jealous of the
competition with their shell-horns. One first and one second violin,
who lived in two stories of the same house, sought to arrange an
impossible harmony between the "Carnival of Venice" and the second's
part in a quartett by Beethoven. The flute was played every evening by
one of the stoutest proprietors in the district of Labian, who blew
everything that he possessed into the holes of that oldest of wooden
instruments. The smallest doctor who practised which the town of pure
reason could produce, played the violoncello; he found numerous
patients amongst his listeners, and had to be sought for behind his
instrument where he was in danger of disappearing. A lawyer, white as
dough, who on account of lack of legal knowledge wished to devote
himself to a diplomatic career, also played the violoncello, and indeed
so well that a brilliant future was prophecied for him as such artistic
performances in drawing-rooms fit people for higher diplomatic posts. A
great kettle-drum was also present in Neukuhren, but in this instance
it belonged to a professional not an amateur: that might be the reason
why, although it had been seen to be unloaded from the carriage, its
existence remained a myth, and the artist seemed to content himself
with one important part of his performance, with counting the pauses in
the time.
The formation of the orchestra was entrusted to an unknown composer,
who, it was said, had the manuscript of four operas lying in his
work-room. One of them was always absent, and wandered about amongst
the different German general-managers, from whom, however, it always
returned home safely, like Noah's dove to the ark, certainly without an
olive or laurel branch; then the next manuscript commenced its
wanderings with similar result. Happily the composer, in addition to
his talents and his scores, still possessed a few hundred thousand
dollars, so that society could pardon his musical tendencies and
performances. Long since he had bought himself a superb _bâton_ in
order one day to conduct one of his operas. With this magic staff in
his pocket, Müller von Stallupönen, as he called himself, in order to
be distinguished from other celebrated Müllers, ran about that day to
make the necessary arrangements, his long hair fluttering in the
breeze, which blew from off the East Sea. In spite of this cooling
element, he was obliged to wipe the perspiration from his forehead,
because it was a toilsome labour to obtain an equal temperature of
disposition in all the coadjutors, and similarity of views about the
pieces of music to be performed. The violoncellist as future
diplomatist, supported him therein with valuable assistance. The little
doctor proved to be the most obdurate, he maintained his opinion
immovably as though it were some consultation beside a sick-bed. A
mixed choral song was also contemplated. In that the fair sex must be
especially begged for their co-operation, so as to give a graceful
counter-balance to the rough, beery student voices of a few lawyers.
The conductor moved about in most amiable _gracioso_ from one seaside
beauty to another, after having first brushed into order his hair which
had been blown about by the sea-breeze. Although this amendment only
remained effectual for a short time, still he appeared to advantage
before the natural _coiffures_ of most of the land-nymphs who allowed
their loosened plaits, which had been dipped in the ocean's waves, to
hang down their shoulders to dry. Both the Fräuleins von Dornau, of
whom Olga had an imposing alto, Cäcilie a brilliant soprano voice at
their disposal, had already made the musical agent happy with their
consent, and his next move was to the Baute family, where he might hope
for a rich musical harvest amongst the seven daughters.
But music's sister-art, poetry, which had not yet been proclaimed as
its Siamese twin, as it was later in the artistic works of the future,
must not be omitted. For Neukuhren possessed a much-made-of visitor in
the young poet Schöner, who on this occasion must tune his lyre, all
the more so because he was a friend of the young betrothed. Her
engagement was really tantamount to a refusal for him, and it was a
strange suggestion that he should celebrate that refusal with his
poetical flowers; but Eva belonged already to his recollections, his
love for her was now but a poetical page in his album; the renunciation
was no longer hard for him. But another difficulty arose, his muse
which was accustomed to sing the dawn of day on the political horizon,
and the resurrection of nations, was not adapted for such domestic
events; he could not discover the right key for it, such social and
drawing-room poetry was not worthy of him, and reduced him to despair.
He sprang up from his work-table and with hurried steps walked up and
down the room. When he began to compose about roses, he always thought
of the sword beneath the roses, the sword of Harmodius and Aristogiton,
that he loved to wield in verse against all tyrants, and that which he
was used to sing of passion's devouring flames was not fitted for a
bridal idyll.
Schöner was obliged to curb his glowing fancy.
At last he had managed to produce a marriage poem, but when he read it
over, he was alarmed at the reminiscences of the bridesmaids' wreath of
violet silk which had slipped in. Schiller certainly had created no
master-piece when he addressed Demoiselle Slevoigt in a nuptial poem--
"_Zieh holde Braut mit unserm Segen,
Zieh hin auf Hymen's Blumenwegen_."
Yet a few verses reminded one of that poem, and "the wreath's solemn
adornment" had passed unnoticed in his ode. He tore it up angrily,
rushed out into the air, and implored the Muses for only a few original
ideas, that would be suitable for such a purpose, which the most
commonplace mortals do not lack, if ever on a similar occasion they
mount their Pegasus. The super-abundance of genius with which he was
endowed weighed heavily upon him, he longed for the intellectual level
of an impromptu poet, who could daily shake a wedding ode out of his
sleeve. The collegian Salomon was going about at the same time with the
criminal thought of also reciting a sonnet, that he hoped to put
together out of Heine and his extracts, and which should not be so
harmless as an every-day congratulatory poem; he wanted to introduce a
meaning, a fine poisoned meaning, which should only be comprehensible
to the bride, which he intended to plunge into her heart like a
vengeful dagger. In a lonely hollow walk, overgrown with sting-nettles
he scanned the deadly verses on his fingers, until the murderous iambus
flowed evenly upon its four feet without a halting choliambus. Had not
Archilochos written satirical iambi the unhappy objects of which had
hanged themselves in despair, what result might not be attained by a
similar poetical production? What an effect, if he presented a bouquet
to the bride-elect and a wasp flew out of it into her face, furnished
with a sting such as Alphonse Karr's _guèpes_ possessed, which at that
time were so much liked by him!
As the arts, so was also the study of nature called into request, so as
not to be wanting at the bridal ovation. A physician worked earnestly
at the most uncertain of all studies, that of the weather, and gazed
hopefully at the two barometers which he had brought with him to
discover whether, in the evening, the full moon which was
astronomically assured, might not be overcast by clouds of rain, and
whether the dance could be carried out beneath the pear tree
undisturbed by events of nature.
Doctor Reising and his Euphrasia had been towed back by her jealous
sisters to the family table. They arrived exactly at the exciting
moment in which Herr von Blanden introduced his betrothed.
Father Baute, who easily confused his daughters' names, was supported
by Doctor Kuhl, the latter, alarmed at no feminine plural, calling out
one after another as if at muster-roll.
Eva felt strange amongst all the strange faces. None was capable of
inspiring her with immediate interest. Even the prettiest of the
daughters, Lori, had a watchful smile that betokened mischief.
Blanden's invitation was accepted with many thanks. Hardly had he
retired with his betrothed before the Baute family started noisily out
of the respectful silence with which they had listened to the strange
gentleman's words, and suddenly resembled a swarming bee-hive.
All talked at once. "How do you like her? How do you like him?" Those
were the most coherent words which echoed simultaneously from all
sides. Lori's sharp voice was the first to pierce through the noise.
"She cannot long have left her governesses. She is a very nice child,
but the schoolroom clings to all her movements. He is a very different
man. He shows plainly that he has long since passed through school, and
also the school of life."
"She has fine eyes," said Ophelia, opening her own widely.
"But not so fine as yours," said Lori, quickly, "as that is all that
you wished to hear."
"T could not like him," said Marie, "he looks so sleepy."
"That indicates a deep, mental life," said Euphrasia; "when he does
open his eyes, a great deal of intellect lies in them. And he does open
them when anything arouses his sympathies. We all, of course, are very
uninteresting to him, but I like men to whom we are, or appear so."
"Well, then, you have an extensive public upon whom to exercise your
liking," said Lori.
Albertina interrupted a silence of some hours with the thoughtful
words--
"Besides, he has a good figure."
"I imagine her to be most domestic," said Emma, "and that is the
principal matter. She is sure to be at home beside the kitchen fire and
the bread board, and look very pretty there, too. And that is very
important. It is no art to look well in a ball dress."
"My dear Emma," interposed Lori, "that is exactly true art! With the
aid of paint, rouge, and the sculpture of a laced bodice, one must
become a work of art."
"The bride-elect pleases me," said old Baute, wiping his spectacles,
"she is natural," added he, with a melancholy glance at his daughters.
Herbart once maintained that everybody at certain points feels cramped
by society. Professor Baute often, in the midst of his daughters, had
this sensation of being cramped.
"There is something pleasant about her, and certainly it is a healthy
nature. She possesses repose and equanimity, and as thus the mutual
determination of all ideas is connected through one another, she will
also be sensible, she will not give way too much either to strong or
weak affections; I believe we may congratulate this Blanden. He
himself, however, appears to be of a passionate nature. But passions
arise from an immoderately strong or ill-connected mass of conceptions.
There are eulogists of passion. But, according to Herbart's and my
view, it stands in repulsive contrast to all that really belongs to the
well-being of mankind. Passion plays a great part in history. Herbart
cautions us against charging the all-providing spirit of the universe
with this part, it would otherwise resemble Mephistopheles too
closely."
Doctor Reising's lips quivered convulsively; he passed his hand through
his hair, and, as soon as Baute again wiped his spectacles, he broke
forth indignantly with the words--
"False, all false! How beautifully Hegel says, it is the cunning of
Reason that makes use of the passions of mankind for its own purposes.
Without passion, nothing great can be done in the world. It is a narrow
view that condemns passion because the compass of its wisdom is
disturbed thereby."
Euphrasia ventured to touch the fanatical private tutor's coat sleeve
in a beseeching manner. Reising understood the slight warning, and
tried to stem the storm of indignation which had taken possession of
him. But Baute said, with great composure--
"Any one who would solve the difficult question according to the causes
of negative judgment, must look upon you, dear Reising, as an original
phenomenon."
The young philosopher did not appear to be dissatisfied with the
character assigned to him. He sat down, and pressed Euphrasia's hand
underneath the table.
"In one thing I quite agree with you," said he, in a conciliatory tone,
"my dear Professor, that Fräulein Kalzow is a truly harmonious looking
creature. She is a beautiful, inspired, intellectually animated being."
Euphrasia considered it incumbent upon her to intimate to her future
bridegroom her disapproval of such remarks by a pressure of her foot,
which exceeded any expression of love.
"There is something of the beauty and repose about her," continued
Reising, "something of the blissful majesty and winning loveliness
which is peculiar to a classical ideal."
"Now that is too bad," said Lori, "did he ever utter such absurdities
to us? Pray do not forget that we, too, are classical in our way."
"The infatuation of men!" said Ophelia, "anything new always possesses
a most bewitching charm for them."
Euphrasia had risen poutingly, and crushed her straw hat in her hand;
tall Albertina drew aside from the Doctor as from a criminal. War with
all the daughters had succeeded the peace which he had just concluded
with the father.
Reising, however, assumed an air of being unconscious of this outlawry
which could be read on every countenance. He lighted a cigar, and
stroked the large poodle which Professor Baute had procured in order to
pursue a study of animals' souls, which, as a genuine Herbartian, he
did not class very far beneath those of mankind.
Meanwhile, Blanden had seated himself in a distant arbour with Doctor
Kuhl. Their conversation also turned upon Eva.
"She is also a Principessa," said Kuhl, "and may any day compete with
the fairy of Lago Maggiore as regards the magic of her beauty. I wish
you joy from my heart, dear friend."
"And I feel my happiness, perfectly, fully! It seems to me as if I had
previously only seen the world through a veil, as if I now saw it
clearly and steadily in free and yet decided outlines. All gloomy
over-cloudings of my life have been transformed into sunny vapour, such
as lies upon a bright landscape."
"Indeed, she will relieve Kulmitten from its everlasting tedium," said
Kuhl. "A splendid estate, but there in those woods one must become
melancholy; a covey of wild ducks across the yawning lake alone brings
animation into the lifeless scene. But will she like it?"
"My dear friend, a young wife--"
"Shall live entirely in her husband, I know. But besides that devout
worship, she needs fresh air and sunshine, nor are we indeed gods.
Concerts, theatres, all favourite resources she must dispense with
there."
"She will know how to adapt herself to it; domestic happiness--"
"Now you are beginning to preach! You know desperately little of that
happiness so far; a remedy whose efficacy you have not tried yourself,
without hesitation you calmly prescribe for your wife."
"You see everything in a gloomy light to-day."
"I am not in rosy mood; I, too, have my little annoyances. You will be
happy, I hope, but what may lie dormant in your wife, who can tell?
They often change wonderfully after marriage. Every Pandora, however
beautiful she is, has her box that is filled with evil, and only when
she is married does she raise the cover."
"Those are consoling reflections for a lover."
"She is beautiful, really beautiful, but she has such enthusiastic
eyes. There is something insatiable about all enthusiasm. She will,
perhaps, love you, but she will demand of you that you shall have none
other thought besides her; she will desire to be everything to you,
house and court, state and church, society and philosophy, extract of
all beauty and amiability that exists on earth. Quintescence of all
intellectual advantages that are usually divided amongst various
talents, she will be jealous of the book that you read, of the woman to
whom you speak, of the friend to whom you pour out your heart; for
anything that I know, even of me. _Dixi et animam salvi_," said the
inexorable Doctor, as he pressed his felt hat farther over his brow.
At that moment, Wegen came up breathlessly, a packet of letters under
his arm. Kuhl responded coldly and glumly to his friendly greeting.
"All goes well," cried Blanden's factotum, that cheery friend, whose
cheeks sea air and zeal had combined to redden. "Müller von Stallupönen
is getting a first-rate orchestra together; this evening a grand
rehearsal. The mixed chorus is formed; I, too, sing in it. We shall
only have a couple of light, lively songs; there is not time enough to
bring up the heavy guns; it would take too much trouble. Some of the
male singers have no ears, some of the female ones no voices, and
Müller, as conductor, will be able to wield his ivory _bâton_, with its
silver mounting, just as well. Müller is a good leader, but very rude.
People's position is nothing to him; he treats ladies of the greatest
importance as a policeman would women who were obstructing the way. If
we had to learn a difficult vocal piece, there would be more actions
for damages than notes. But I must away, my good friend."
"I am very grateful to you for your zeal, dear Wegen; but whither are
you going in such haste?" asked Blanden.
"You see I am freighted with music; I am going to Fräulein Cäcilie von
Dornau. She will sing a solo, and I shall accompany her, but we have
not yet decided what we shall select."
Doctor Kuhl's fingers drummed impatiently upon the table.
"I have searched out every note that was to be met with amongst the
principal stars in the heaven of the Neukuhren musicians, and also
amongst the Baute Pleiaides; besides that, I have plundered all pianos
and music cupboards. But I must away, Fräulein Cäcilie expects me."
Wegen bade adieu as breathlessly and hastily as he had arrived. Blanden
looked smilingly at the Doctor, who now sat there with moody glances
and folded arms.
"But tell me, friend, what does this signify? It almost looks as if it
were impious desecration of your sanctuary. Does the flame of the
Dioscuri no longer shine at the mast of your life's ship? Cäcilie, the
beloved one of your intellectual days, appears to have become faithless
to you."
"It is possible," replied the Doctor.
"Friend Wegen at least moves briskly and cheerily in the channel of a
new affection which is surely not to be discouraged, otherwise he would
not be in so roseate an humour."
"I do not know if this Lacertes is escaping me," said Kuhl, with
defiant resignation, "I do not know if it is in earnest or in play when
she shows such particular attention to Herr von Wegen; I almost think
she is playing with us both."
"Is she a coquette, then?"
"All are, women and girls, each in her own manner. I think she will
make fun of me and my views. Yesterday I called her to account for her
response to Herr von Wegen, and she excused herself with the most
charming grace. She quite shared my views; life is much too rich to be
able to restrict oneself; besides, nothing is so ridiculous as
jealousy. She likes me much, but only on her intellectual days;
therefore, for her foolish days, of which she experiences many now, she
has sought out Herr von Wegen. And, at the same time, she smiled so
politely, and made me such a pretty curtsey."
Blanden could not suppress loud merriment at this communication.
"She beats you with your own weapons."
"Laugh away! It drives me to despair! Who can explain to such a sprite,
in solemn earnest, what a great difference exists between man and woman
in restriction of the affections?"
"Nor would that be so easy."
"Simple as a child, I tell you, only I have no inclination to do so at
present. Besides, I am curious to see how far she carries it."
"Perhaps to marriage. Our whole life is only directed towards that, and
you always go groping about in an Utopia with your theories. But girls
have sense and tact, and, at a certain age, they begin to freeze in the
open air, and seek a shelter."
"I shall never believe that Cäcilie belongs to those everyday womanish
natures; but if she be really in earnest with this Herr von Wegen, I
shall know how to console myself. For a rejected lover, there is often
nothing more consolatory than the thought of his successor, for if the
latter belongs to tin soldiers, a man knows, too, in which box he must
pack his beloved one, and that he has been much mistaken if he counted
her amongst living ones. An error is always painful, but it is a
pleasure to find it out; the table must be entirely cleared and laid
again from the beginning."
"Do not forget that Wegen is my friend," said Blanden, seriously.
"As a friend, he may possess great merits. I appreciate his
self-sacrificing zeal; but in a girl, who can be in love with him, I
have been mistaken, and that is my affair. Now farewell, I must go into
the sea! They are tuning the fiddles over there already. I shall get
out of the way of that _dilettante_ howling to-day."
While Kuhl walked, towards the bathing-place, Blanden went in search of
his betrothed. However, the old Regierungsrath, whose countenance was
now filled with unwonted sunshine, informed him that Eva had begged to
be allowed to be quite alone that evening. There were evenings on which
she loved to indulge her thoughts in solitude, and she hoped her
_fiancé_ would grant her that privilege once more on the evening before
her betrothal.
Kalzow declared himself ready to compensate the lonely lover with a
game of _ombre_, at which the Kreisgerichtsrath would assist, and even
a "dummy" was provided, if he should appear to be necessary.
The only young man in Kuhren available, was one who neither sang nor
played upon any instrument, the talented architect, who, on that
evening, would certainly have to sit as "dummy" at all the concert
rehearsals.
Blanden assented unwillingly; he was full of ardent yearning for his
betrothed; the wish to see her, to speak to her, being ungratified,
became all the keener in him. How pale appeared the picture that his
imagination sketched of the beautiful girl. It alarmed him that the
outlines sometimes seemed to become confused, and out of that dimness
another picture gazed towards him, which had once been dear to his
heart.
He sat down to _ombre_, but his thoughts were absent. He held the most
beautiful _soli_ in his hand and forgot to declare them. Close by, the
noisy orchestral rehearsal was in full swing. These mangled pieces of
music, which Müller von Stallupönen's zeal tore into single bars,
appeared like mockery to him; these discordant, disconnected
instruments, moved _en echelon_ when they ought to march in line.
But yet this rehearsal was arranged to prepare a performance in his
honour, and how dreadful the dissonances that were thus disclosed.
Eva meanwhile sat in her room, which was illumined by the moon,
meditating quietly and deeply. All who are completely absorbed in
another's or their own life, are filled with intense melancholy.
Whether the destinies be sad or bright, their lot always seems worthy
of tears. Yesterday is a dream, to-morrow a question, to-day an
uncertain possession. It is always difficulty to believe in any great
felicity in this world, so abundant in delusions!
How brightly life lay before her! She, the betrothed of a beloved man
of position, of a respected and rich landowner--what had befallen that
shy Eva? What will her school-friends say to this transformation of
fortune? From her adopted father's four narrow walls, she was
transported into a circle in which she could shine, as well as command
and influence. But if, in meditating, these thoughts and fancies just
touched her mind, they wore but the gorgeous setting for the picture of
the man to whom her heart had given itself fully and wholly, whom she
would have followed in poverty and want, yes, even unto death!
It was an overwhelming passion that she cherished for Blanden; she was
almost alarmed at it and her own heart. Was she, then, worthy to be
this excellent man's wife? Amidst tears, she looked into the mirror,
and if she found those features lovely whose reflex gazed upon her,
doubly lovely in the halo of transfiguration which intense emotion shed
upon her, above all she was filled with joy that she was richly dowered
with beauty and charm for him.
And how should she cheer him! The gloomy line had not escaped her which
lay upon his forehead around his eyebrows, the pensive sadness in his
half-closed eyes. Life had done him great injury; all this should be
changed!
She felt the power within herself to keep spring-time awake in him; so
mighty were the wish and will in her. And for her, too, what nameless
bliss! What unknown enchantments the future concealed for her in its
lap! How she had thrilled at his ardent kisses! Like the evening's glow
from golden clouds, a dream-like fire had flowed towards her. She
plunged below into the flames, and the flames did not scorch nor burn
her, but pressed themselves around her limbs with a hitherto unknown
feeling of ecstasy and sweet enchantment.
And yet she became so feverishly hot in that dream! She threw the
window open; without, all lay calmly and indifferently in the silvery
coolness of the moonlight. The waves broke upon the shore as they had
done since the beginning of time, unconcerned in the troubles and joys
of men, and only the agonised notes of unperfected music that seemed to
quiver convulsively beneath the conductor's _bâton_, reminded her, as
they fell upon her ears from the Kurhans, of human life and her own
betrothal feast.
She sat at the window, lost in thought. For simultaneously with the
beloved man, another joy entered into her poor life. A touching vision
bent over her; her tears flowed lightly.
The mother, who had so long been kept afar from her, was invited. She
was sure to come to-morrow; could it have been a betrothal feast
without her blessing? In the cold one of her adopted parents lay no
charm which should be able to enchain her destiny; but a mother's every
silent wish must become a blessing. How would she look now? Oh, to gaze
again into those large, touching eyes, to be able to ask her why she
had remained so far away from her daughter; to be able to comfort her,
if she had endured great sorrow--and certainly she must be unhappy! The
wicked world had made her so! All pictures of early childhood rose
again before her, dream-like, unconnectedly. Yet from none was her
mother's countenance absent. Here they sat in an arbour before a
coffee-table, and the mother drove away the wasps which tried to steal
the little daughter's cake; there she stood at a door, behind the
curtained glass panes of which the lights of a Christmas tree were
already gleaming impatiently. She beckoned and called, and all the
festive brilliancy which had delighted the child's heart reflected
itself in the mother's eyes, and as she embraced the latter, the
never-to-be-forgotten tears that she kissed away from those cheeks told
her how intensely she was beloved by the only one who watched over her
life like the eye of Providence! And again she saw herself in a large
park. The mother sat upon a bench, and worked; it was already dusk. Eva
could even now still transport herself entirely into the feelings of
that time--what fear she was in lest her mother might spoil her
beautiful eyes. She cautioned her dear mother, and sprang to the pond
close by--the lights of evening flickered--a splendid water lily
attracted her--Evchen stooped down to gather it, and sank into the
pond. A cry for help--she awoke in her mother's arms, who had torn her
quickly as lightning from out the waves. As she opened her eyes, she
looked into a face smiling beneath its tears; and often in her dreams
appeared her mother's picture, as it had stood before her at that
moment.
Infinite yearning, deep emotion, took possession of her; how abundant
was her mother's love, and who had parted her from her daughter,
wrenched her away from that child's heart? She felt that it was not the
mother's will; a dark, spectre-like secret had stepped between the two!
Yet separated, even from a distance, the mother watched over her life,
reckoning up hour after hour of her present and future, and adding them
together in one single divine thought of illimitable love!
Sobbing loudly, she rested her head upon her hand; her eyes did not see
the heavens above, nor the wide ocean--only her mother's picture.
Then she suddenly arose; why this sorrow before a day of joy? To-morrow
the sun illumines their reunion, to-morrow she gives her troth to the
beloved man; she will sleep and dream of all her approaching happiness.
The sounds of music had long been hushed, but through the window rang
the thunder of the sea; it increased with the growing storm. The hoarse
breaking of the waves rocked Eva to sleep; but it was a sleep full of
fear, and a distant angry destiny, into which the noise of the waves
was changed, broke menacingly into her dreams.