ESTELLA AND I
I need not say to you, my dear Heinrich, how greatly I love Estella.
It is not alone for her beauty, although that is as perfect and as
graceful as the dream of some Greek artist hewn in immortal marble.
That alone would have elicited merely my admiration. But there is
that in her which wins my profoundest respect and love--I had almost
said my veneration. Her frame is but the crystal-clear covering of a
bright and pure soul, without stain or shadow or blemish. It does not
seem possible for her to be otherwise than good. And yet, within this
goodness, there is an hereditary character intrenched, capable, under
necessity, of all heroism--a fearless and a potent soul. And, besides
all this, she is a woman, womanly; a being not harsh and angular in
character, but soft and lovable--
"A countenance in which do meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food;
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles."
You may judge, my dear brother, having gone through a similar
experience, how profoundly I was drawn to her; how absolute a
necessity she seemed to my life. Neither was I a despairing lover;
for had she not, at a time when death seemed imminent, avowed her
love for me? Yes, "_love_"--that was the word she used; and the look
which accompanied it gave the word a double emphasis. But there was a
giant difficulty in my path. If she had compromised her maiden
reserve in that particular, how could I take advantage of it? And how
could I still further take advantage of her lonely and friendless
condition to press my suit? And yet I could not leave her alone to
encounter all the dangers of the dreadful time which I know too well
is approaching. If she had stood, happy and contented, in the midst
of her family, under the shelter of father and mother, surrounded by
brothers and sisters, with a bright and peaceful future before her, I
could have found courage enough to press my suit, to throw myself at
her feet, and woo her boldly, as man woos woman. But this poor,
unhappy, friendless, lovely girl! What could I do? Day and night I
pondered the problem, and at last an expedient occurred to me.
I called upon her. She had fled from the palace without a wardrobe. A
woman may be a heroine, but she is still a woman. Joan of Arc must
have given considerable thought to her cap and ribbons. Estella was
busy, with a dressmaker, contriving several dresses. I asked her if I
could speak with her. She started, blushed a little, and led the way
into another room. I closed the door.
"My dear Estella," I said, "I have been amusing my leisure by
composing a fairy story."
"Indeed," she said, smiling, "a strange occupation for a
philanthropist and philosopher, to say nothing of a poet."
"It is, perhaps," I replied, in the same playful vein, "the poetical
portion of my nature that has set me at this work. But I cannot
satisfy myself as to the denouement of my story, and I desire your
aid and counsel."
"I am all attention," she replied; "proceed with your story;--but
first, wait a moment. I will get some of my work; and then I can
listen to you without feeling that I am wasting precious time."
"Otherwise you would feel," I said, "that your time was wasted
listening to me?"
"No," she said, laughing, "but in listening to a fairy tale." She
returned in a few moments, and we took seats, I covering my real
feeling by an assumed gayety, and Estella listening attentively, with
her eyes on her work.
"You must know," I commenced, "that my tale is entitled:
THE STORY OF PRINCESS CHARMING AND THE KNIGHT WEAKHART.
'Once upon a time'--you know all fairy stories are dated from that
eventful period of the world's history--there was a beautiful
princess, who lived in a grand palace, and her name was Princess
Charming; and she was every way worthy of her name; for she was as
good as she was handsome. But a dreadful dwarf, who had slain many
people in that country, slew her father and mother, and robbed the
poor Princess of her fine house, and carried her off and delivered
her to an old fairy, called Cathel, a wicked and bad old sorceress
and witch, who sat all day surrounded by black cats, weaving
incantations and making charms, which she sold to all who would buy
of her. Now, among the customers of Cathel was a monstrous and bloody
giant, whose castle was not far away. He was called The Ogre Redgore.
He was a cannibal, and bought charms from Cathel, with which to
entice young men, women and children into his dreadful den, which was
surrounded with heaps of bones of those he had killed and devoured.
Now it chanced that when he came one day to buy his charms from
Cathel, the old witch asked him if he did not desire to purchase a
beautiful young girl. He said he wanted one of that very kind for a
banquet he was about to give to some of his fellow giants. And
thereupon the wicked old woman showed him the fair and lovely
Princess Charming, sitting weeping, among the ashes, on the kitchen
hearth. He felt her flesh, to see if she was young and tender enough
for the feast, and, being satisfied upon this important point, he and
the old witch were not long in coming to terms as to the price to be
paid for her.
"And so he started home, soon after, with poor Princess Charming
under his arm; she, the while, filling the air with her piteous
lamentations and appeals for help.
"And now it so chanced that a wandering knight, called Weakhart, from
a far country, came riding along the road that very day, clad in
steel armor, and with his lance in rest. And when he heard the
pitiful cries of Princess Charming, and beheld her beauty, he drove
the spurs into his steed and dashed forward, and would have driven
the lance clear through the giant's body; but that worthy saw him
coming, and, dropping the Princess and springing aside with great
agility, he caught the lance and broke it in many pieces. Then they
drew their swords and a terrible battle ensued; and Princess Charming
knelt down, the while, by the roadside, and prayed long and earnestly
for the success of the good Knight Weakhart. But if he was weak of
heart he was strong of arm, and at last, with a tremendous blow, he
cut the ugly ogre's head off; and the latter fell dead on the road,
as an ogre naturally will when his head is taken off. And then the
Knight Weakhart was more afraid of being alone with the Princess than
he had been of the giant. But she rose up, and dried her tears, and
thanked him. And then the Princess and the Knight were in a grave
quandary; for, of course, she could not go back to the den of that
wicked witch, Cathel, and she had nowhere else to go. And so
Weakhart, with many tremblings, asked her to go with him to a cavern
in the woods, where he had taken shelter."
Here I glanced at Estella, and her face was pale and quiet, and the
smile was all gone from it. I continued:
"There was nothing else for it; and so the poor Princess mounted in
front of the Knight on his horse, and they rode off together to the
cavern. And there Weakhart fitted up a little room for the Princess,
and made her a bed of the fragrant boughs of trees, and placed a door
to the room and showed her how she could fasten it, and brought her
flowers. And every day he hunted the deer and the bear, and made a
fire and cooked for her; and he treated her with as much courtesy and
respect as if she had been a queen sitting upon her throne.
"And, oh! how that poor Knight Weakhart loved the Princess! He loved
the very ground she walked on; and he loved all nature because it
surrounded her; and he loved the very sun, moon and stars because
they shone down upon her.
Nay, not only did he love her; he worshiped her, as the devotee
worships his god. She was all the constellations of the sky to him.
Universal nature had nothing that could displace her for a moment
from his heart. Night and day she filled his soul with her ineffable
image; and the birds and the breeze and the whispering trees seemed
to be all forever speaking her beloved name in his ears.
"But what could he do? The Princess was poor, helpless, dependent
upon him. Would it not be unmanly of him to take advantage of her
misfortunes and frighten or coax her into becoming his wife? Might
she not mistake gratitude for love? Could she make a free choice
unless she was herself free?
"And so the poor Knight Weakhart stilled the beating of the
fluttering bird in his bosom, and hushed down his emotions, and
continued to hunt and cook and wait upon his beloved Princess.
"At last, one day, the Knight Weakhart heard dreadful news. A people
called Vandals, rude and cruel barbarians, bloodthirsty and warlike,
conquerors of nations, had arrived in immense numbers near the
borders of that country, and in a few days they would pour over and
ravage the land, killing the men and making slaves of the women. He
must fly. One man could do nothing against such numbers. He could not
leave the Princess Charming behind him: she would fall into the hands
of the savages. He knew that she had trust enough in him to go to the
ends of the earth with him. He had a sort of dim belief that she
loved him. What should he do? Should he overcome his scruples and ask
the lady of his love to wed him; or should he invite her to accompany
him as his friend and sister? Would it not be mean and contemptible
to take advantage of her distresses, her solitude and the very danger
that threatened the land, and thus coerce her into a marriage which
might be distasteful to her?
"Now, my dear Estella," I said, with a beating heart, "thus far have
I progressed with my fairy tale; but I know not how to conclude it.
Can you give me any advice?"
She looked up at me, blushing, but an arch smile played about her
lips.
"Let us play out the play," she said. "I will represent the Princess
Charming--a very poor representative, I fear;--and you will take the
part of the good Knight Weakhart--a part which I imagine you are
especially well fitted to play. Now," she said, "you know the old
rhyme:
"'He either fears his fate too much,
Or his desert is small,
Who fears to put it to the touch,
And win or lose it all.'
"Therefore, I would advise that you--acting the Knight Weakhart, of
course--take the bolder course and propose to Princess Charming to
marry you."
I began to see through her device, and fell on my knees, and grasped
the Princess's hand, and poured forth my love in rapturous words,
that I shall not pretend to repeat, even to you, my dear brother.
When I had paused, for want of breath, Estella said:
"Now I must, I suppose, act the part of Princess Charming, and give
the foolish Knight his answer."
And here she put her arms around my neck--I still kneeling--and
kissed me on the forehead, and said, laughing, but her eyes
glistening with emotion:
"You silly Knight Weakhart, you are well named; and really I prefer
the ogre whose head you were cruel enough to cut off, or even one of
those hideous Vandals you are trying to frighten me with. What kind
of a weak heart or weak head have you, not to know that a woman never
shrinks from dependence upon the man she loves, any more than the ivy
regrets that it is clinging to the oak and cannot stand alone? A true
woman must weave the tendrils of her being around some loved object;
she cannot stand alone any more than the ivy. And so--speaking, of
course, for the Princess Charming!--I accept the heart and hand of
the poor, weak-headed Knight Weakhart."
I folded her in my arms and began to give her all the kisses I had
been hoarding up for her since the first day we met. But she put up
her hand playfully, and pushed me back, and cried out:
"Stop! Stop! the play is over!'
"No! no!" I replied, "it is only beginning; and it will last as long
as we two live."
Her face grew serious in an instant, and she whispered:
"Yes, until death doth us part."