Whitsuntide was over. The brazen bells had retired into private life,
and looked black and silent through the loopholes in the bell-towers,
that seemed like the coffins of the melodious life which had so lately
streamed forth from them during the holidays. But the bright
flower-bells in the forest, hanging loosely on their stalks, could not
forget the festival. They had joined in bravely when the air had
quivered with the brazen clang, and still rang gently with every breeze
that swept through the underbrush. What did they care that the
wood-cutter, his holiday clothes and face all laid aside, tramped past
them in his heavy boots, whistling some rude melody! The forest heeded
not, but kept up the same mysterious murmur amid its branches like a
thousand-voiced whisper of prayer, and the little birds sang as before
their matin and vesper hymns in God's praise.
Up in old Castle Gnadeck, as in the forest, the festal spirit of the
holidays still reigned, although Ferber had already entered upon the
duties of his office, often making unavoidable visits to L----, while
Frau Ferber and Elizabeth had, through Sabina, received several large
orders from a ready-made linen establishment in L----, and were besides
busy every day for some hours in the garden which even in this first
year gave promise of abundant fruit and flowers. Notwithstanding this
constant industry, there was a holiday air pervading the whole place,
arising from the consciousness in the minds of each one of the family
that there had come a happy turn in their affairs; they were continually
comparing their present with their former situation, and the new and
unaccustomed life of the forest had an almost intoxicating effect upon
their spirits.
Her parents had given Elizabeth the gobelin room, because there was the
finest prospect from its windows, and because the girl when she had
first entered it had declared that she liked it best of all. The gloomy
door which led into the huge old wing Had been walled up and gave no
sign that such a dreary waste lay beyond it. The further end of the
room was filled by one of the renovated canopied bedsteads, and by the
window stood the antique writing-table, with its quaint inkstand and
writing utensils of porcelain, and two vases filled with lovely flowers;
while just outside the window, embowered in the topmost branches of a
syringa bush, was the canary's cage; its occupant vying with the forest
songsters in its shrill trilling with all the envy of some spoiled
bravura singer.
While they were arranging the room, and Frau Ferber was every moment
bringing in some new piece of furniture to add to it a greater air of
comfort and luxury, her husband went to the longest wall, and,
stretching his arms across it, banished to the anteroom the lounge that
had just been placed there.
"Stay,--this space I appropriate," he said with a smile. Then he
brought a large bracket of dark wood and nailed it upon the wall, which
was wainscoted neatly to the ceiling on this side. "Here," he
continued, as he placed upon the bracket a bust of Beethoven, "this
mightiest mortal shall be enthroned alone."
"But that looks so blank and bare," said Frau Ferber.
"Only wait until to-morrow or the day after, and you will, I am sure,
admit that my arrangements are not to be despised, and that Elizabeth
will have both pleasure and profit from them."
And on the next day, which had been Whitsun-eve, he went to town with
the forester. They returned toward evening, but did not enter through
the gate in the garden wall. The great gate was flung wide open, and
four strong men bore in a large and shining object through the ruins.
Elizabeth was standing near the kitchen window, engaged, for the first
time in her new home, in preparing the evening meal, when the men
entered the garden with their burden.
She cried out, for it was a piano--a large, square piano, which was
immediately borne up stairs and placed in the gobelin room under
Beethoven's bust. Elizabeth laughed and wept at the same moment, as she
rapturously embraced her father, who had expended his little capital,
the proceeds of the sale of their furniture in B----, that he might
provide her again with what had been the delight of her life. And then
she opened the instrument and a flood of rich melody filled the rooms
where the silence of death had reigned for so many years.
The forester had come with her father to enjoy Elizabeth's surprise and
delight. He now leaned silently against the wall, as the wondrous
sounds flowed forth from beneath the girl's touch. For the first time
he heard the true speech of the glowing life that animated the delicate
young frame. How thoughtful and inspired was the air of the
finely-shaped head which crowned her graceful form, so suggestive of
earnest maidenhood! Hitherto only jests and merry repartee had been
exchanged between uncle and niece. He often called her his butterfly,
because of the airy grace of her motions and her quickness of mind,
which never left her at a loss for a reply to his merry attacks; but his
favourite name for her was "Gold Elsie," for he maintained that her hair
was such perfect gold that he could see it shining and shimmering in the
darkest parts of the forest as she approached, and that it heralded her
coming to him as the jewel in the giant's shield had once announced his
approach to Childe Roland.
When Elizabeth had finished she spread her arms above the instrument as
if to embrace it, and, leaning her head upon it, smiled the happiest
smile; but her uncle approached her softly, gave her a silent kiss upon
the forehead, and departed without a word.
From this time he came up every evening to the old castle. As soon as
the last rays of the setting sun had faded from the tree-tops, Elizabeth
sat down at the piano. The little family took their places in the large
low window-seat, and lost themselves in the fairy world, which was
opened to them by the great master whose image looked down from the wall
upon the inspired young performer. And then Ferber would think of how
Elizabeth had portrayed the free life in the forest when the letter from
her uncle had first arrived in B----. 'Tis true no elves or gnomes
appeared, but the spirits which the mightiest of the masters of music
had imprisoned in sound floated forth from their prison-house on a flood
of melody, breathing into the solemn silence around a mysterious life--a
life of whose joys and sorrows every sympathetic human soul is
conscious, although to genius alone is granted power to embody and
reveal them.
One afternoon they were all sitting together at their coffee. The
forester had brought his pipe and newspaper, and begged of Elizabeth a
cup of the refreshing beverage. He was just about to read aloud an
interesting article in his paper, when the bell at the garden gate
sounded. To the astonishment of every one, when little Ernst ran to
open it, a servant in livery entered and handed Elizabeth a note. It
was from the Baroness Lessen. She began by saying much that was
flattering with regard to the young girl's masterly performance upon the
piano, to which she had listened for the two or three previous evenings
while walking in the forest, and concluded by preferring a request that
Elizabeth would consent, of course for a stipulated consideration, to
come to Castle Lindhof every week and play duets with Fraeulein von
Walde.
The style of the letter was extremely courteous; nevertheless the
forester, after a second perusal of it, threw it angrily upon the table,
and said, looking steadily at Elizabeth,--
"I hope you will not consent?"
"And why not, my dear Carl?" asked Ferber in her stead.
"Because Elizabeth is, and always will be, far too good for those people
down there!" cried the forester, with some irritation. "But if you
choose to see what you have carefully planted, choked up and ruined by
poisonous weeds and mildew--why, do it."
"It is certainly true," replied Ferber quietly, "that my child has known
until now none other than a parent's care. We have endeavoured most
conscientiously, as was our duty, to cherish every germ of good, to
foster every plant of tender growth. But we have had no idea of
producing a mere hot house flower, and alas for us and for her, if all
that we have unweariedly tended and nourished for eighteen years is so
loosely planted in the soil that it can be torn thence by the first
blast of life! I have educated my daughter to live in the world; she
must battle her way among its storms, as we all must. If I should be
taken from her to-day, she must herself guide the helm which I have
hitherto held for her. If the people in the castle below are not fit
associates for her, matters will soon arrange themselves. Either both
parties will feel their unsuitability to each other and all intercourse
will cease, or everything that offends Elizabeth's principles will pass
by her like idle wind, leaving no impression. Why, you yourself never
avoid a danger, but rather prove your strength by meeting it bravely."
"But, zounds! I am a man, and can take care of myself!"
"And how do you know that Elizabeth hereafter will possess any support
except what she finds in herself, or have any sharer in the
responsibility of her actions?"
The forester cast a keen glance at his niece, whose earnest eyes were
riveted upon her father's face. He who was to her the embodiment of
wisdom and tenderness was echoing her own ideas, and the expression of
her beautiful face showed what she felt.
"Father," she said, "you shall see that you have not been mistaken--that
I am not weak. I never could endure the trite image of the ivy and the
oak, and shall most certainly not illustrate it in my own person. Be
comforted, uncle dear, and let me go down to the castle," she said,
smiling archly at the forester, whose forehead showed a deep frown of
decided irritation. "If the people there are heartless, don't suppose
for one moment that they will make a cannibal of me, and that I shall
eat my own heart up. If they try to crush me with supercilious
arrogance, my own inner standard of action shall be so high that I can
look down in pity upon the harmless arrows of their scorn; and if they
are hypocrites, I shall turn with all the more delight to gaze into the
sunny face of truth, and be more deeply convinced of the ugliness of
their black masks."
"Fairly spoken, oh incomparable Elsie, and incontestably true,--if only
these same people would kindly hand you their masks to examine. But you
will awake some day to find that what you have believed to be gold is
only the merest tinsel."
"No indeed, dear uncle; I will not foolishly allow myself to be imposed
upon. Remember, we have had many trials since my childhood; they have
not been borne without teaching me some good lessons. Certainly we must
all trust somewhat in our own strength, and I shall not despair for a
long time, even if upon my first experience of the world I plunge into
an abyss of Egyptian darkness, full of frightful monsters. But look,
uncle dear, to what your zeal for my soul's welfare has brought
you,--your coffee looks as though it could be skated upon, and your
meerschaum is at its last gasp."
The forester laughed, although the laugh was not from his heart. And
while Elizabeth refilled his cup for him and handed him a lighted match,
he said to her: "You must not suppose that my ammunition is exhausted
because I say to you, 'Well, well, go and try it.' I look forward to
the satisfaction of seeing the courageous chicken come flying back again
some day, only too thankful to creep under the sheltering wing of home."
"Aha!" laughed Frau Ferber, "you have no idea of the stern determination
in that little head. But let us decide. I advise Elizabeth to pay her
respects to the ladies to-morrow."
The next afternoon at about five o'clock Elizabeth descended the
mountain. A broad, well-kept path led through the forest, which melted
imperceptibly into the park. No gateway separated its carefully-tended
grounds, with their clumps of trees and feathery grass, from the wild
woods beyond.
Elizabeth had put on a fresh light muslin dress, and a small, white,
round straw hat. Her father walked with her as far as the first meadow,
and then she went bravely on alone. No human being crossed her path
during her long walk; it even seemed as though the trees rustled more
softly here in the leafy avenues and arcades than in the forest beyond,
and as if the birds modulated their notes more gently. She started at
the noise of the crunching gravel beneath her tread as she approached
the castle, and wondered to find how timid the intense quiet had made
her.
At last she reached the principal entrance, and caught sight of a human
face. It was a servant, who was busy in an imposing vestibule, but who
moved as noiselessly as possible. Upon her request that he would
announce her to the baroness, he slipped up the broad staircase fronting
the hall door, at the foot of which stood two lofty statues, their white
limbs half concealed by the orange trees placed at their bases. He soon
returned, and assuring her that she was expected, led the way quickly up
the stairs, scarcely touching the steps with the tips of his toes.
Elizabeth followed him with a beating heart. It was not the grandeur
around her that oppressed her, it was the sensation of standing all
alone in this new untried sphere. The servant conducted her through a
long corridor, past the open doors of several apartments, which,
furnished with extraordinary splendour, were heaped with such a
profusion of elegant trifles that a simple child, unused to such luxury,
would have supposed herself in a fancy-shop.
Her guide at last carefully opened a folding-door, and the young girl
entered.
Near the windows, opposite Elizabeth, upon a couch lay a lady in
apparently great suffering. Her head was resting upon a white pillow,
and warm coverings were spread over her entire figure, which, in spite
of its wrappings, betrayed decided embonpoint. In her hand was a
vinaigrette.
She raised her head slightly, so that Elizabeth could see her face
distinctly; it was round and pale, and at first sight by no means
unprepossessing. Upon a closer view, the large blue eyes, that
glittered beneath light eyelashes and elevated eyebrows as light, looked
cold as ice, an expression in nowise softened by the supercilious lines
about her mouth and nostrils, and by a broad, rather projecting chin.
"Oh, Fraeulein, it is very kind of you to come!" cried the baroness in a
weak voice, which nevertheless sounded harsh and cold, as she pointed to
a lounge near her, and motioned to Elizabeth, who courtesied politely,
to sit down. "I have begged my cousin," she continued, "to arrange
matters with you in my room, as I am really too ill to take you to
hers."
This reception was certainly courteous, although there was a
considerable amount of condescension in the lady's tone and manner.
Elizabeth sat down, and was just about to reply to the question how she
liked Thuringia, when the door was suddenly flung open, and a little
girl of about eight years of age ran in, holding in her arms a pretty
little dog, struggling and whining piteously.
"Ali is so naughty, mamma, he will not stay with me!" cried the child,
breathlessly, as she threw the dog upon the carpet.
"You have probably been teasing the little thing again, my child," said
her mother. "But I cannot have you here, Bella; you make so much noise,
and I have a headache. Go away to your room."
"Oh, it's so stupid there! Miss Mertens has forbidden me to play with
Ali, and gives me those tiresome old fables to learn; I cannot bear
them."
"Well, then, stay here; but be perfectly quiet."
The child passed close to Elizabeth with a stare and an examination of
her dress from top to toe, and mounted upon an embroidered footstool
before the mirror in order the easier to reach a vase of fresh flowers.
In a moment the tastefully arranged bouquet was thrown into the wildest
disorder by the little fingers, which busied themselves with sticking
single flowers into the delicately embroidered eyelet-holes of the
muslin curtain. During this operation large drops of the water, in
which the flowers had been placed, dropped from the stems upon
Elizabeth's dress, and she was obliged to move her chair, as there
seemed no likelihood that any stop would be put to the proceeding,
either by the little Vandal herself or by her mother's prohibition.
Elizabeth had only had time to move, and to reply to the reiterated
question of the baroness, that she already felt very happy and, quite at
home in Thuringia, when the lady hastily arose from her reclining
posture, and, with an amiable smile upon her lips, nodded towards a
large portiere, which was drawn noiselessly aside and on the threshold
of the door appeared the two young people whom Elizabeth had lately seen
through the spy-glass; but how strangely ill-assorted they now seemed to
be, as she saw them thus standing together. Herr von Hollfeld, a
slender figure of great height, was obliged to bend very much on one
side to afford any support to the little hand that rested upon his arm.
The sylph-like little figure, which had lain upon the couch in the park,
was no taller than a child's. The exquisitely lovely head was sunk
between the shoulders, and the crutch in her left hand showed how
helpless was her crippled condition.
"Forgive me, dearest Helene," cried the baroness, as the pair entered,
"for troubling you to come to me; but, as you see, I am again the poor
wretched creature upon whom you are so ready to bestow your angelic pity
and kindness. Fraeulein Ferber," here she motioned towards Elizabeth,
as if presenting her, and the young girl rose, blushing, "has had the
kindness to come, in compliance with my note of yesterday."
"And, indeed, I am very grateful to you fordoing so!" said the little
lady, turning towards Elizabeth with a smile of great sweetness, and
holding out her hand. Her glance measured the blushing girl before her
with an expression of surprise, and then rested upon the heavy golden
braids that appeared below the hat. "Oh, yes," she said, "I have
already seen your lovely golden hair; yesterday as I was walking in the
forest you were leaning over a wall up there at the old castle."
Elizabeth blushed yet more deeply.
"But because you were there," continued the little lady, "I lost the
pleasure for which I had clambered up the height, the pleasure of
hearing you play, which I had enjoyed on the previous evening. So young
and child-like, and yet with such a thorough appreciation of classic
music! it seems impossible! You will make me very happy if you will
play often with me."
Something like a shade of displeasure flitted across the features of the
baroness, and a close observer might have noticed a scornful contraction
of her lips, but it was lost upon Elizabeth, whose attention was
entirely absorbed by interest in the unfortunate little lady whose
delicate silvery voice seemed to come fresh from the depths of her
heart.
In the mean time, Herr von Hollfeld pushed a chair for Fraeulein von
Walde close to the lounge, and left the room without uttering a word.
But as he went out by the door directly opposite to Elizabeth, she could
not help noticing that he directed a last long look at her before slowly
closing it after him. It disturbed her, for his expression was of so
strange a kind that she hurriedly glanced over her dress to see if
anything there could have struck him as odd or unsuitable.
For the last few moments Bella had been sitting upon the carpet, playing
with the dog. It would have been a charming picture, if the whinings
and uneasy movements of the little animal had not betrayed that the
child was teasing it. At each loud cry from the dog, Fraeulein von
Walde started nervously, and the baroness said, mechanically, "Don't
tease him so, Bella!" At last, however, when the animal uttered a most
piteous howl, the mother raised her forefinger threateningly, and said,
"I must call Miss Mertens."
"Oh," replied the child contemptuously, "I don't care for her! She
doesn't dare to punish me, for you told her she mustn't."
At this moment, the portiere was gently drawn aside, and a pale, faded
gentlewoman appeared. She courtesied to the ladies, and said, timidly:
"The chaplain is waiting for Bella."
"But I won't have a lesson to-day!" the little girl cried, taking a ball
of worsted from the table and throwing it at the speaker.
"Yes, my child, you must," said the baroness. "Go with Miss Mertens,
and be a good little girl, Bella."
Bella, as though the matter affected her no more than it did Ali, who
had retreated behind the sofa, threw herself into an arm-chair and drew
her feet up under her. The governess was about to approach her, but at
an angry look from the baroness she retired to the door again.
This disgraceful scene would probably have lasted much longer if the
baroness had not brought up a _corps de reserve_ to her assistance in
the shape of a box of bonbons. The child, after she had crammed her
mouth and pockets full, left her seat, and, pushing aside the hand which
her governess held out to her, ran out of the room.
Elizabeth sat petrified with astonishment. The delicate features of
Fraeulein von Walde also showed evident disapproval; but she said
nothing.
The baroness sank back among her pillows. "These governesses will be my
death," she sighed. "If Miss Mertens could only learn how to treat,
judiciously, a child of Bella's sensitive, nervous temperament! She
never takes into account social position, temperament, and physical
constitution. She would model all after the same pattern--the daughter
of a grocer or a peer; a finely-strung, sensitive nature, or a robust,
rude, day-labourer physique--'tis all the same thing to her. Miss
Mertens is a disagreeable, pedantic schoolmistress; her English, too, is
detestable. Heaven only knows in what mean little English county she
learned her native tongue!"
"But really, dear Amalie," said Fraeulein von Walde, "I do not find her
English impure," and her voice sounded exquisitely kind and soothing.
"There you come with your never-failing angelic amiability; but,
although I do not understand English, I can always hear, in one instant,
how much more high-bred your accent is, my dear, when you are talking
with her."
Elizabeth inwardly doubted the value of this estimate, and Fraeulein von
Walde blushed with a deprecating gesture.
But the baroness continued: "And Bella hears it, too; she will not open
her lips when her governess speaks English to her, and I cannot blame
her in the least; it provokes me excessively when this person blames the
child for obstinacy."
Under the influence of her irritation the voice of the baroness, which
had at first been very weak and suffering, had grown perceptibly
stronger. She suddenly seemed to become aware of this herself, and
closed her eyes with an expression of great weariness. "Oh heavens!"
she sighed, "my unfortunate nerves are too much for me. I grow excited
instead of being kept quiet; these vexations are poison both to my mind
and body."
"I would advise you, Amalie, when you are as nervous and weak as you are
to-day, to leave Bella without a fear to Miss Mertens' care. I am
convinced that nothing can be better for her. While I fully understand
your touching anxiety on the child's account, I can confidently assure
you that Miss Mertens is far too gentle and cultivated a person to do
anything that would not conduce to her welfare. You look quite worn
out," she continued, sympathizingly. "We had better leave you alone;
Fraeulein Ferber will certainly have the kindness to accompany me to my
room."
So saying she arose, and leaning over the baroness imprinted a gentle
kiss upon her cheek. Then she laid her hand upon the arm of Elizabeth,
whom the baroness dismissed with a gracious nod, and left the apartment.
As they slowly walked through the various corridors, she told Elizabeth
that it would be a special delight to her brother, who was so far from
her, if she should resume her music. He used to sit alone with her
listening to her playing for hours, until a nervous malady that had
attacked her had forced her to give up her beloved music for a long
time. Now she felt much stronger, and her physician had also given his
consent; she would be very diligent, that she might surprise her brother
upon his return home. Elizabeth then took leave.
She hastened with winged speed through the park, and along the path
which ascended the mountain. In the forest glade just before the open
garden gate her parents were awaiting her return, and little Ernst ran
lovingly to meet her. What an air of home breathed all around her here!
The greeting that she received showed how she had been missed; the
canary was singing merrily in his green embowered cage, the garden
laughed in beauty, and in the background, under the group of lindens
above the cool spring, the snowy table was spread for supper.
The Italian castle with all its splendour, its aristocratic air, and its
oppressive silence, only broken by the clamour of a spoiled child, faded
behind her like a dream of the night; and when she had imparted her
impressions of all that she had seen and heard to her parents, she
concluded with the words: "You have taught me, father dear, never to
form any settled judgment of others upon a slight acquaintance with
them, for such judgment runs a fair chance of being unjust, but what can
I do with my unruly fancy? Whenever I think of the two ladies, I see in
imagination a lovely young weeping willow, whose elastic graceful
branches are the constant sport of a furious tempest."