From this time Elizabeth went regularly to Lindhof twice a week. The
day following her first visit Baroness Lessen had arranged the hours for
the lessons in a very courteous note, and had insisted upon a most
generous compensation for Elizabeth's time. These lessons soon proved a
source of much enjoyment. Helene von Walde, owing to the absence of all
practice for many years, was very deficient in technical knowledge and
capacity, and could not be compared at all with Elizabeth; but she
played with much feeling, her taste was refined and cultivated, and she
was entirely free from the wretched habit, common to most dilettanti, of
depreciating whatever lay beyond her reach. Baroness Lessen was never
present during the music lessons, and therefore the moments of rest
gradually became especially delightful to Elizabeth. At such times a
servant usually brought in some light refreshments. Helene leaned back
in her armchair, and Elizabeth seated herself upon a cushion at her
feet, and listened enchanted to the flute-like silvery voice of the
unfortunate lady as she recounted many an experience of the past. The
image of the absent brother here played a principal part. She was never
weary of telling of his care and thoughtfulness for her, of how,
although he was many years her senior, he was continually studying how
to gratify and humour her childish whims and peculiarities. She related
how he had purchased Lindhof only because, upon a visit which she had
formerly made in Thuringia, she had experienced great benefits from the
pure Thuringian air; everything showed how dearly he loved her.
One afternoon, when they had been practising unusually long, a servant
entering announced a visitor.
"Stay and drink tea with me this afternoon," said Fraeulein von Walde to
Elizabeth. "My physician is here from L----, and several ladies from
the neighbourhood have just arrived; I will send some one up to the
castle that your mother may not be anxious about you. My tete-a-tete
with the doctor will not last long, and I shall soon be with you again."
And so saying she left the room. Scarcely ten minutes had elapsed
before the door opened and Fraeulein von Walde entered, leaning upon the
arm of a gentleman whom she presented to Elizabeth as Doctor Fels, from
L----. He was tall, with an intellectual countenance, and as soon as he
heard Elizabeth's name he entered into a lively conversation with her,
comically assuring her that his own surprise and horror, as well as that
of the entire respectable population of L----, had really known no
bounds when it was reported that old Castle Gnadeck had received within
its crumbling walls inhabitants of flesh and blood.
Suddenly there was a rustling in the antechamber, and upon the threshold
of the door appeared two figures of rather singular exterior. Their
great resemblance of feature plainly revealed their relationship as
mother and daughter. Both wore dark dresses, which, contrary to the
prevailing mode, fell limp and close around them, large scarfs of black
woollen stuff, and brown, round straw hats, tied, in the case of the
mother, with black ribbon, while the daughter had a lilac bow beneath
her chin.
Helene von Walde received the ladies courteously, presenting them as
Frau and Fraeulein Lehr, and Elizabeth afterwards learned that, residing
in L----, they spent their summers in lodgings in the village of
Lindhof.
Immediately after their entrance the Baroness Lessen appeared, leaning
upon her son's arm, and accompanied by a gentleman who was addressed by
those present as Herr Moehring, the chaplain.
The baroness was dressed in dark silk, but with the greatest elegance,
and made a most imposing appearance. She paused for an instant upon the
threshold of the door, and seemed to be disagreeably surprised at
Elizabeth's presence. She measured her with a haughty look of inquiry,
and replied to her courtesy by a scarcely perceptible inclination of the
head.
Helene noticed the look, and approaching her said in a soothing whisper,
"I kept my little favourite with me to-day--I had already detained her
so long."
This excuse did not escape Elizabeth's ear. It offended her, and she
would willingly have flown away through the window near which she was
standing, had not pride induced her to stay and brave the arrogance of
the baroness. The great lady seemed entirely pacified by the
explanation of what had occurred without her consent. She put her arm
around Helene, stroked her curls tenderly, and said a hundred caressing
things to her. Then she requested those present to follow her to the
adjoining room, where tea was prepared. She did the honours of the
tea-table, and discovered a talent, by no means to be despised, for
leading and carrying on the conversation. With admirable tact, she
contrived always to make Helene the centre of attention without in the
least wounding the self-love of the others.
Elizabeth sat silent between the doctor and Fraeulein Lehr. The
conversation possessed little interest for her, inasmuch as it related
to people and circumstances entirely strange to her. Frau von Lehr had
much to say, and seemed perfectly instructed in every matter, private or
public, that had taken place during the last few weeks among the people
living around Lindhof. She spoke in a peculiarly mournful, suppressed
tone of voice, and at the conclusion of the rehearsal of each exciting
piece of news cast down her eyes and inclined her head with great
apparent humility and resignation, as though she were a lamb suffering
for the sins of the world. Now and then she drew forth from a huge
reticule which she carried a small bottle of rose-water, with which she
moistened her eyes, as they seemed weak with perpetual casting towards
heaven.
What a contrast between her and Helene's madonna face, as it leaned
against the dark plush of the lounge, reminding Elizabeth more than ever
of the water-lily lying dreamily with its snow-white leaves upon the
dark surface of the lake! To-day there was a strange glow upon the
delicate features. It was not that all traces of suffering had
vanished, but there was a peaceful light of content in her eyes, and a
happy smile wreathed the pale lips as often as she took up from her lap
the bouquet of rosebuds which Herr von Hollfeld had presented to her
when he entered. He sat beside her, and sometimes joined in the
conversation. As soon as he opened his lips the ladies were silent,
listening with the greatest attention, although his talk was anything
but fluent, and, as Elizabeth soon discovered, betrayed not the
slightest originality of mind.
He was a very handsome man, of about four and twenty. There was great
repose in the finely-cut features, which at first seemed to indicate
manliness and strength of character; but any such impression which their
regularity might have produced was effaced by a searching glance into
his eyes. Those eyes, although they were large and faultless in shape,
had no depth whatever, and never lighted up with that meteoric flash
which so often reveals the man of intellect, even when he does not
speak. Its want can be atoned for by that mild glow which speaks of
deep sensibility, and which, although it does not instantly impress us,
gradually attracts and enchains us. But there was nothing of this to be
discovered in Herr von Hollfeld's fine blue orbs.
This sentence, however, would have been echoed by but few, for it was
the present fashion, especially at the court of L----, to regard Herr
von Hollfeld as a prodigy, whose silence gave warrant of unfathomable
depths of intellect and sensibility,--in which opinion the ladies in and
around Lindhof most cordially joined, as was illustrated by the conduct
of Frau von Lehr's very stout daughter, who leaned forward, directly
across the modestly shrinking Elizabeth, and listened, as if to the
enunciation of a new gospel, whenever Herr von Hollfeld opened his lips.
And she, too, appeared quite willing to allow her light to shine.
"Were you not charmed with the lovely sermons with which Herr Moehring
edified us during the holidays?" she asked, turning to Elizabeth.
"I regret not having heard them," she answered.
"Then you did not attend divine service?"
"Oh, yes! I went with my parents to the village church at Lindhof."
"Indeed!" said the Baroness Lessen, turning for the first time toward
Elizabeth, and smiling sarcastically. "And were you greatly edified at
the village church at Lindhof?"
"Most truly was I, gracious lady," Elizabeth quietly replied, looking
calmly into the contemptuous eyes that were turned upon her. "I was
deeply affected by the simple, earnest words of the preacher. His
discourse was not delivered in the church, but under the trees outside.
When the service was about to begin it was evident that the little
church could not contain the crowd of worshippers, and an altar was
constructed under God's free sky. Such altars might often be erected."
"Unfortunately, they often are," said Herr Moehring, who until then had
spoken little, contenting himself with confirming all Frau von Lehr's
remarks by an amiable smile or an assenting nod. Now, however, his
broad, shiny face grew purple, and, turning to the baroness, he
continued, contemptuously: "Yes, most gracious lady, it is only too
true; the old idols are being replaced in the sacred groves, and we
shall have druids sacrificing to them beneath the oaken shades."
"Really, that never occurred to me. With the aid of my wildest
imagination I should never have dreamed at the time that I was assisting
at a heathen sacrifice," rejoined Elizabeth. She smiled, but continued
with serious warmth: "It seemed to me, on that glorious spring morning,
as the tones of the organ streamed forth from the open doors and windows
of the church, and that reverend old man spoke in such devout tones, as
it did when I entered the temple of God for the first time in my life."
"You seem to have an excellent memory, Fraeulein," Frau von Lehr here
remarked: "How old were you at that time, if I may ask?"
"Eleven years old."
"Eleven years old! Oh, heavens! how can such a thing be possible?"
cried the lady in holy horror. "How possible with Christian parents!
Why, my children were familiar with the house of God from their earliest
years, as you can testify, my dear doctor."
"Yes indeed, madame," he replied with great gravity. "I remember that
you ascribed the attack of croup, by which you lost your little son at
two years of age, to a couple of hours in the cold church."
Elizabeth looked up quite terrified at her neighbour. The doctor had
joined in the conversation hitherto only by throwing in a sarcastic word
here and there very drily, which amused Elizabeth greatly, inasmuch as
he was always met by a reproving glance from the baroness. When the
young girl began to speak she had not noticed him any more than had the
others, whose entire attention had been occupied with the wretched
heathen child, so that no one had observed how he was bursting with
inward laughter at the daring replies of the young stranger, and their
effect upon those present. His answer appeared thoughtless and cruel to
Elizabeth; but he must have known his companions well, for Frau von Lehr
was not at all offended, but replied with great unction: "Yes, the Lord
took the pious little angel to himself; he was too good for this world;"
then, turning to Elizabeth, she said: "And so you were shut out from the
Lord's kingdom for the first eleven years of your life?"
"Only from His temple, gracious lady. As a little child I was
instructed in the history of Christianity, and with my first thoughts
were blended ideas of God's wisdom and love. I cannot remember the time
when I did not hear of them from my father; but it is a firm principle
of his never to allow very young children to go to church; he says they
are entirely incapable of appreciating the importance and meaning of
what they see and hear there; the sermon, which must be entirely beyond
their comprehension, wearies them, and they conceive a dislike to the
place. My little brother Ernst is seven years old, and has never yet
been to church."
"Oh, happy father, who has the courage to frame and execute such plans
for his children's culture!" exclaimed Doctor Fels.
"Well, what hinders you from letting your children grow up without care,
like mushrooms?" asked the baroness with malice.
"That I can readily tell you in a very few words, most gracious lady. I
have six children, and cannot afford to have masters for them at home.
My profession prevents me from teaching them myself, and, therefore, I
am obliged to send them to the public school and subject them to its
laws, which require them to attend church regularly. Just as little can
I carry out my views with regard to another subject,--the putting of the
Bible into the hands of young children. The Sacred Book, which contains
the holy principles that should regulate all our thoughts and actions,
and, as such, should be regarded with veneration by the young,--does not
belong in their hands at a time when childhood, with rare exceptions,
seeks amusement instead of instruction, and is always curious to
investigate whatever is forbidden and mysterious. And, therefore, I
know,--and any observant teacher will admit,--that children who devote
themselves constantly to the perusal of the Bible, for which they are
commended by thoughtless parents, do not always search for the text of
the last sermon,--but read much else beside,--often meeting with words
and expressions which a careful mother would guard them from hearing at
home, but whose significance is often made only too clear by their
intercourse with other children not so carefully educated, left to the
charge of ignorant and vulgar servants. And suppose, even, that they
seek explanation of certain words and phrases from their mothers only;
an intelligent mother will always know, 'tis true, how to reply to their
queries, but she must, most certainly, forbid them the use of many
expressions which they find in the Bible,--let us recall to mind the
Song of Solomon,--and so the first seeds of doubt and unbelief are sown
in the childish mind, which is wanting in the strength that only moral
culture and riper understanding can give."
Here the Baroness Lessen arose with a gesture of impatience. Upon her
full cheeks, usually so pale, two round, crimson spots had appeared, a
sign to all who knew her, of great irritation. Fraeulein von Walde, who
had been a passive listener to the conversation, also arose, took her
cousin's arm, and, leading her to the window, asked whether she would
not like to hear a little music from Elizabeth and herself.
This propitiatory proposal was received with a gracious inclination of
the head,--the more especially as the baroness did not feel herself
quite equal to the doctor in a war of words; and, as everyone must have
seen her indignation, she was quite willing to have it supposed that the
beautiful, soothing music was the cause of her refraining from
annihilating the impious defamer of her holy zeal, for she was
perpetually presenting Bibles to poor children.
She took her seat in a windowed recess, and looked out upon the
landscape, upon which the first shadows of approaching evening were
falling. Her look was cold and cruel,--an expression often seen in a
certain kind of light-blue eye, shaded by white eyelashes. The corners
of her mouth were drawn down, a sign of great displeasure, which did not
vanish even when Schubert's Erlking, arranged for four hands, was
performed in a masterly manner by Helene and Elizabeth. The waves of
melody broke against that breast unfelt, as the waves of the ocean upon
a rocky shore.
When the last chord died away, the ladies arose from the instrument, and
the doctor, who had stood immovably, listening, hastened towards them.
His eyes sparkled as he thanked them for a treat which, as he assured
them, was richer than any he had enjoyed for years. Here Fraeulein von
Lehr's face grew scarlet, and her mother cast a malicious glance at the
unlucky enthusiast. Had not her daughter the preceding winter played
several times in public in L----, for the benefit of some charitable
association, and had he not attended every concert? However, the doctor
did not appear to notice the storms that he was calling down upon his
head. He discussed Schubert's compositions in a manner that manifested
refined perception and a thorough knowledge of his subject.
Suddenly there was a harsh clash of chords upon the piano; it seemed as
though fingers of bone were belabouring the keys. They looked round
with a start. The chaplain was seated at the instrument, with head
thrown back and inflated nostrils. He raised his hands for a second
attack, and began a beautiful choral, which his horrible playing
converted into torture for sensitive ears. Still it might have been
endured, when, to Elizabeth's horror, he began to sing in a nasal,
snuffling tone;--that was too much. The doctor seized his hat, and
bowed to Helene and the baroness, the latter only vouchsafing him a
slight wave of the hand in token of dismissal, without turning her face
from the window.
An incomparable expression of humour hovered upon the doctor's features.
He pressed Elizabeth's hand cordially as he departed, and took leave of
the rest with a courteous bow.
As soon as the door closed behind him, the baroness arose with
excitement and approached Helene, who was sitting in a corner of the
sofa.
"It is intolerable!" she cried, and her sharp voice sounded muffled, as
if suppressed anger were choking her, while her searching gaze rested
full upon the little lady, who looked up to her almost timidly. "How
can you, Helene, here in your own house, hear our rank, our dignity as
women,--yes, even our holy of holies, which we are bound so faithfully
to defend,--assailed so grossly without one word of reply?"
"But, dear Amalie, I cannot see."
"You will not see, child, in your inexhaustible patience and
long-suffering, that this doctor insults me whenever he can. Well, I
must submit to that, for this is not my house, and besides, as a
Christian, I would rather endure wrong than resort to retaliation. But
this submission must cease when the sacred claims of the Lord are
assailed. Here we should strive and struggle, and not grow weary. Is
it not actually blasphemous for this man to seize his hat, and, _sans
facon_, take his departure from the room while our hearts are being
stirred and elevated by the lofty thoughts which the truest form of
music, the choral, can alone express?"
She had spoken louder and louder, until she did not perceive that her
voice was entirely destroying the effect of a touching phrase, just
delivered by the unwearied chaplain, whose efforts had not been
intermitted for an instant.
"Ah, you must not blame the doctor for that," said Fraeulein von Walde.
"His time is precious; most likely he has a patient to see in L----; he
was about to leave just before we began to play."
"While that heathenish Erlking was going on, the worthy man entirely
forgot his patients," the baroness interrupted contemptuously. "Well, I
must submit. Unfortunately, in our degenerate days, the scoffers of our
faith have gained the upper hand."
"But, for heaven's sake, Amalie, what do you want me to do? You know
only too well that Fels is indispensable to me. He is the only
physician who knows how to relieve me when I am in great suffering,"
cried Helene, and her eyes filled with tears, while her cheeks were
suffused with a blush of irritation.
"I thought, Fraeulein Helene,"--began Frau von Lehr, who had hitherto
sat in her corner silently, and on the watch, like a spider in its
web,--"I thought that the welfare of our souls should be our first
consideration; care for our poor bodies should, in my estimation, rank
second in our view. There are many other skilful physicians in L----,
with as great a reputation for learning as Dr. Fels enjoys. Believe me,
my dear, it often gives great pain to our Christian friends in L---- to
know that a scoffer, an infidel, is admitted to your confidence as your
friend and adviser."
"Even if I consented to sacrifice myself so far," replied Helene, "as to
employ another physician, I dare not take such a step without first
obtaining my brother's consent; and I know that I should meet with
determined opposition there, for Rudolph is warmly attached to the
doctor, and puts entire confidence in him."
"Yes, more's the pity!" cried the baroness. "I have never been able to
comprehend that weakness in Rudolph's character. Doctor Fels imposes
upon him utterly with his seeming frankness, which might better be
called insolence. Well, I wash my hands of the affair, only for the
future I must decline any visits from the doctor, and entreat you, my
dear Helene, to excuse me when he is with you."
Fraeulein von Walde made no reply. She arose and looked sadly around
the room for an instant, as if missing something. It seemed to
Elizabeth that her eyes sought Herr von Hollfeld, who had left the room
unperceived a short time before.
The baroness took up her lace shawl, and Frau von Lehr and her daughter
prepared for departure. Both paid several compliments to the chaplain,
who had finished his performance, and was standing at the piano rubbing
his hands with embarrassment; and then all took leave of Helene, who
replied to their good-nights in a tone of great exhaustion.
As Elizabeth descended the stairs she saw Herr von Hollfeld standing in
a retired, dimly-lighted corridor. During his mother's outbreak of anger
he had sat quietly turning over the leaves of a book, never joining in
the conversation by word or look. His conduct had disgusted Elizabeth,
who had hoped that he would have stood by Helene and silenced his mother
by a few serious words. She was still more displeased when she noticed
that he was steadily regarding herself while he was apparently occupied
with his book. He might easily have seen her displeasure in her face,
but he continued to stare most insultingly. She felt herself at last
blush deeply beneath his gaze, and she was the more provoked at feeling
this, as the same thing had occurred against her will several times
before. It was remarkable that she never went home from Castle Lindhof
without chancing to meet Herr von Hollfeld either in the hall, upon the
stairs, or stepping suddenly from behind a tree in the park. Why these
meetings at last became painfully embarrassing to her she could not have
explained to herself. She thought no more about it, and usually forgot
him entirely before she reached her home.
He was standing now in the dark passage. A black slouched hat was
pulled down over his face, and his summer coat had been exchanged for a
light cloak. He seemed to be waiting for some one, and as soon as
Elizabeth had reached the last stair approached her hastily, as though
about to address her.
At the same moment Frau von Lehr and her daughter appeared on the
landing above.
"Aha, Herr von Hollfeld," cried the elder lady, "are you going to walk?"
The young man's features, which had seemed to Elizabeth strikingly
animated, instantly assumed a quiet expression of entire indifference.
"I have just come in from the garden," he said negligently, "where I
have been refreshing myself in the soft night air. Attend Fraeulein
Ferber home," he said authoritatively to a servant who issued from the
servants' room with a lantern, and then with an obeisance to the ladies,
he retired.
"How glad I am," said Elizabeth, as an hour later she was sitting at her
mother's bedside relating the events of the afternoon, "that to-morrow
will be Sunday. In our dear little simple village church I shall forget
all the disagreeable impressions which the last few hours have left upon
my mind. I never could have believed that I could have listened to a
choral without being moved to aspiration and devotion. But to-day I was
really angry, when, amid the clatter of the teacups, and after an hour
passed in talk certainly not inspired by love of our neighbour, I
suddenly heard those tones which have always been sacred to hours of
meditation and serious thought. Behind all this religious zeal there
lies hidden boundless arrogance,--that I saw clearly to-day; but if
others feel as I do, these people will scarcely make many proselytes.
Acknowledge, mother dear, that I am not naturally antagonistic, and yet
to-day I felt for the first time in my life an irresistible desire to
defy and contradict."
And then she spoke of Herr von Hollfeld and his strange behaviour in the
hall, adding that she could not understand what he could possibly have
wished to say to her.
"Never mind, we will not puzzle ourselves about that," said Frau Ferber.
"If he should ever propose to accompany you on your way home, do not
fail to reject such an offer peremptorily. Do you hear, Elizabeth?"
"But, dearest mother, what are you thinking of?" cried the girl with a
laugh. "The skies will fall before such a thing happens. If he could
allow Frau Lehr and her daughter, who consider themselves persons of
distinction, to go home without an escort, he will hardly condescend to
notice my insignificant self."