In the mean while Jansen and his two companions had gone on their way,
too much occupied with their own thoughts to think about the company in
which Schnetz had driven by. They were not, indeed, taking an ordinary
morning walk, for it had no less an object in view than to make a child
acquainted with its new mother for the first time--yes, even more than
this. The evening before Julie had expressed her ardent wish to take
the child under her own care at once; the plan to take an apartment
with Angelica had been given up again, for this good soul could not
bring herself to leave the people with whom she was staying, who lived
in great part from what she paid them. So Julie had plenty of room;
and, though she said nothing about it, no doubt the consideration that
the presence of the child would do much to lighten the trial year, both
for herself and her lover, had a great deal to do in determining her.
Since everything that made the bond between them stronger could not but
be very welcome to Jansen, it was decided to put the plan into
execution on the very next day.
But though Jansen had welcomed and urged the idea most eagerly, he
became more and more doubtful, as the hour for putting it into
execution drew near, whether he should succeed without some trouble in
removing the child from the associations to which it was accustomed,
and placing it amid entirely new relations. Julie felt no less nervous;
what had seemed to her the evening before to be easy and self-evident,
appeared to her now in broad daylight as an audacious undertaking that
made her heart beat more anxiously the nearer they approached to their
goal. What if the child should not take to her? What if she, try as
hard as she would, should not be able to take it to her heart at
once?--or should not be able to learn the art of managing it rightly?
The thought made her silent, and she involuntarily walked more slowly.
Jansen, too, slackened his pace, so that the good Angelica, who walked
along with them quite cheerful and free from care, was obliged to stand
still every few minutes in order to wait for the stragglers.
But she did not lose her good-nature. On the contrary, it seemed as
though the happiness of her adored friend, the share in it which fell
to her as the patron saint of the secret union, and, by no means least,
the authority which her position as protectress gave her over her
honored master, tended to excite her humor in an unusual degree, so
that she delivered the drollest speeches entirely on her own account,
whenever the other two abused too flagrantly the privilege of being
tiresome--a privilege that belongs by right to all lovers.
"Children," she cried, standing still again and fanning her heated face
with her handkerchief, "this is the first time in my life that I ever
'played the elephant' to a pair of secret lovers, but I swear by the
ball on the tower of that Protestant church never to do so again,
unless I am provided with an equipage at the very least! That you are
not very entertaining I find to be quite in order, and at all events
much better than if you should perpetually speak in sonnets, like
_Romeo_ and _Juliet_--which I find highly absurd even on the stage. But
to creep along at your side through this Sahara-like glare, while you
walk at a snail's-pace, since you no longer feel external heat because
of the flames within, is more than an elderly girl of my complexion can
stand. So we will jump into the next droschke, where I can close my
eyes and ponder why it is that love, which is after all such a
pleasurable invention, generally makes the most sensible people
melancholy."
Jansen's home lay in one of the old lanes between the city and the Au
suburb. Any one wandering along here by the side of the babbling brook,
a small tributary of the Isar, and seeing the low cottages with their
little front gardens and courtyards, and picturesque gables, might
easily imagine himself transported far away from the city and set down
in one of the country towns of the middle ages, so quiet and deserted
are the streets and ways, and so freely does every one pursue his
occupation under the eye of his neighbor, washing his linen and his
salad at the same well and sitting in his shirt-sleeves before his
door. The house of our friend stood a little back, in a sort of
blind-alley, so that you could not drive up to the door. It belonged to
an honest and hard-working man who had formerly been a teacher in one
of the provincial industrial schools, and who was now employed as an
engineer by different railways. As his work obliged him to travel
during many months of the year, he had invited his wife's mother to
come and live with him and give company and assistance to his little
wife--a cheery, practical woman from the Palatinate, sound to the core
both in body and soul. The mother was an excellent old woman, who,
although rather deaf, knew so well how to get on with the children that
the little ones desired no better company than their grandmamma, who
read all their little wishes in their eyes.
She was sitting in her accustomed place in the deep window-niche, with
her youngest grandchild, who was barely two years old, on her knee, and
her five-year-old foster-child on a stool at her feet, when the door
opened and her daughter, the sculptor, and the two ladies, walked in.
Jansen was an especial favorite of hers, and his child held as warm a
place in her heart as her own grandchildren. And so it was natural,
when, without any preparation or notice, these two strange Fraeuleins,
of whom one was striking beautiful, were introduced to her as relations
of the sculptor who wanted to see little Frances, that she had a
feeling there was something wrong about the matter; especially as one
of the strange ladies, the beautiful one, immediately took up the
little girl, who made great eyes at her, kissed and caressed her, and
took out all sorts of sweetmeats and toys from her pocket, with which
she tried to gain the child's friendship. Jansen sat near her, silent,
his face wearing a peculiar expression. For the first time his child
struck him as not looking so pretty or to so much advantage as he could
have wished. It had, to be sure, feature for feature the face of its
father, and fortunately his clear, flashing eyes as well; and in
addition to this a head of dark-brown hair and black eyebrows, which
made the eyes appear still more brilliant. Moreover, it evidently took
a strong fancy to the beautiful "aunt," who brought it such nice
things, and it behaved altogether with great propriety considering its
few years. But, for all that, a certain uneasiness weighed upon all the
people in the little room, as they sat together on the sofa or round
the table. Neither Jansen nor Julie had considered how they should
properly clothe their project in words, since their relation to one
another heretofore had borne none of the usual names, and it might not
be so easy to explain to these simple-minded women what was meant by
the engagement of a married man, and the maternal rights of his "bride"
to his child.
It is very possible they had both counted on the aid of their good
"elephant," who, as a general thing, was never at a loss for a word on
either serious or pleasant occasions. But Angelica also seemed to have
left her humor outside, when she entered this peaceful little chamber.
She only had sufficient tact to admire the other children, and to
devote herself especially to the little two-year nestling, whom she
pronounced to be "a charming little rascal, with true Rubens coloring."
Thus a good half hour passed away; every subject was exhausted which
could possibly be broached on a first visit, and still the main topic
had not been touched upon. Then at last the little housewife, who had
now and then exchanged a meaning look with the old woman in the window
corner, came to the aid of her old friend and lodger by rising and
requesting him to step into the adjoining room with her for a moment,
as she had something to say to him that would be of no interest to the
ladies.
So she led him into her absent husband's study, shut and locked the
door behind her, and, the moment she was alone with him, plunged into
the heart of the matter.
"Dear friend," she said, in her rapid Palatinate dialect, dropping all
the _n_'s at the ends of her words, and introducing a number of those
pretty turns of speech that flow so charmingly from the lips of pretty
Palatinate women, "now just tell me straightforwardly what all this
means. Do you seriously suppose you can pull the wool over my eyes, or
that I sha'n't see that this charming woman is your sweetheart or
something of that sort, and not a mere cousin in the seventeenth
degree? Now, I most certainly have nothing against it if you admire a
beautiful Fraeulein; that is your privilege as an artist, and besides
you are no old beau with silver locks; and this woman could almost
steal my own heart away if I were a man. But there is something behind
it all in this case, and you need not try to convince me of the
contrary; and this fondling and fussing over the child has some reason.
Didn't she ask whether little Frances would like to come with her and
see all the pretty things she had in her house? Now, I know well
enough, dear Jansen, that if it were any ordinary attachment she would
have no wish to entice to her a child who would perpetually remind her
admirer of his earlier relations."
"You have guessed the secret, my good woman," answered Jansen, as he
pressed her hand with a feeling of relief. "You are as wise as the day
is long, and would steal the most secret plans from the bosom of a much
more skillful diplomatist than I am. And who has a better right than
you, dear friend, to know all that concerns our dear child, whom you
have always cared for with the faithfulness of a mother? But now listen
to me quietly. It is truly a strange story, and the right way through
the maze is not so clear. But, if you only knew that wonderful being as
well as I do--"
And then he began to tell the history of the last few weeks to the
woman, who listened with great attention to all he said; and closed by
saying that he did not like under these circumstances to dissuade Julie
from taking the child to live with her, especially when, in beginning
to care for that which was dearer to him than all else except herself,
she would be giving him a new proof of how earnestly she desired his
happiness.
He had grown so earnest over his story that, when he came to an end,
nothing seemed more natural and right to him than this opinion. He was,
therefore, very much amazed when the little woman said to him, with a
doubtful expression, and speaking, against her wont, very slowly and
solemnly:
"You mustn't be offended with me, dear friend, but if you did this you
would make the most foolish mistake it would be possible for you to
make in your position and at your age. There! Now you know it, and
though it may not sound very polite, it is my opinion nevertheless, and
most certainly my mother's also; and, if you have not the heart to tell
it, I myself will say it to the beautiful Fraeulein's face, with all the
love and esteem of which she may be in every respect worthy. What? I am
to give up the child to a single woman with whom its father is in love?
To a beautiful lady who never has learned how such a little plant as
this should be watered, or trained when it shows signs of growing
crooked, or how much air and sunshine it needs?"
"Of course we should get an experienced nurse," he ventured meekly to
suggest.
The excitable little woman, who had become quite red in the face in her
zeal, gave him a side glance full of pity and reproach.
"So," she said, "a nurse! So you think, I suppose, that this ought to
make me quite contented? No; and though you are the own father of the
child ten times over and I only the foster-mother, still for all that I
will take the liberty of telling you that you don't know anything about
it, and only talk as you do because you are blindly in love. Oh, my
good friend, do you think then that, because I have no right to say: 'I
will not allow it--I will not give up the child that I have long loved
as dearly as my own,' therefore I would not fight hand and foot if
anything should befall her that would be as dangerous to her as
if you should give her brandy to drink? Yes, you may stare at me as
much as you like, it is as I say! A child belongs only amid pure
relations--don't be angry at the expression. What will you say to
little Frances when she asks whether the beautiful lady with whom she
lives is her papa's wife, because he always kisses and caresses her
when he comes and goes, just as her foster-mother's husband used to do
with his wife, only perhaps even more tenderly? Do you imagine the dear
little thing hasn't eyes in her head, and very wise thoughts behind
them? And no matter with what propriety you may act, there is something
not quite right about the whole matter. Your Fraeulein sweetheart has
her head full of other things than what the child needs, and won't sit
and talk and play and learn with her all day long, like grandmamma and
our other children. Think the matter over again, and then put the plan
out of your mind. Don't you remember you have often said to me that you
would be glad if you only knew some way in which to repay me for my
love and care for your child, and I always laughed at you for talking
such nonsense? But to-day I do not laugh at all--to-day I tell you very
seriously, if you really think you owe me anything, then pay me by
saying that you will not take the child away from me, but will leave
her here where she is happy."
She extended both her hands to him, which he seized and pressed
heartily, though still with averted face.
"My best friend," he said, "you mean so well by our child--"
"And by her father, too!" she eagerly continued; "and even by her
father's beautiful friend, with whom I have no need to eat salt in
order to believe all the good you have said of her. But, for that very
reason and because we are on this subject, do make a hearty resolve,
dear Jansen, and procure the divorce now at any price and as soon as
possible. You see, I am but a simple woman and have not seen much of
the world, but still I have seen enough to know that even with the best
intentions everything can't go exactly according to rule; and if you
artists sometimes overstep the bounds rather more than is necessary,
still you are not one of the kind who would do such a thing merely out
of wantonness. And I know, too, why you haven't wanted things to be any
different heretofore. But now--believe me, now you owe it to three
beings to provide a pure atmosphere in which you can begin a new life.
And, though you shake your head even now, as much as to say it is
impossible, believe me--"
The door was suddenly thrown open, and little Frances came jumping in,
holding a candied fruit in her hand, of which she had taken a bite, and
which she insisted upon the little foster-mother's tasting too. Jansen
took the dear little creature in his arms, pressed her passionately to
his breast, and kissed her bright eyes. Then he gave her back to the
little wife and said, in a voice choked with emotion:
"There, you have her again! God reward you for your kindness and good
sense. We will finish our talk some other time."
He stepped into the room again where his two friends had been waiting,
their conversation confined to a rather tiresome attempt to make
themselves understood by the deaf old woman. Julie read in Jansen's
eyes that his interview had not met with the desired success; but, hard
as it was for her to relinquish her plan and not to take the child with
her at once, she refrained from all hasty objections, and rested
content with the promise that little Frances should soon visit her.
It was only after they were in the carriage that Jansen informed her of
the objections raised by the little woman. Julie listened in silence,
with downcast eyes and burning cheeks. Angelica, on the contrary,
attempted, in her droll way, to protest against this project, to
which she, as the protecting genius of the two foolish lovers, had
given her consent, being considered so very wild and impracticable.
By imperceptible degrees, however, she passed from scolding the
capricious little woman to praising her, maintaining that she, as a
portrait-painter, was a sufficiently good judge of human nature to
know at once what sort of a character lay behind any face. And,
consequently, she could not help admitting that, if the dear child was
not to be with Julie, there was no place in the world where it would be
better cared for than in this house.
Julie persisted in her silence. Her heart had grown heavy; she began,
for the first time, to have a presentiment that her great happiness was
not to be all sunshine, that storms were lowering on the horizon which
the first gust of wind might roll across the sky, and cause to break
upon the heads of herself and her lover.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: Rosebush.]
[Footnote 2: Schoepfer--creator--a pun somewhat less irreverent to
German than it would sound to English ears.]
[Footnote 3: The Germans say "to get the basket," as we say "to get the
mitten."--Translator.]
[Footnote 4: Of course a play on _Schafskopf_ (sheep's-head), the
German phrase for a stupid fool.--_Translator_.]
END OF VOL. I.
SAMUEL BROHL AND COMPANY.
From the French of VICTOR CHERBUUEZ.
_Paper_, 60 _Cents_; _Cloth_, $1.00.
* * *
_From the New York World._
"The book is one of the best of even Cherbuliez's novels. No one needs
to be told that this is high praise.... Nowhere has the ideal
adventurer been portrayed with more skill, more art, more genius even,
than Cherbuliez has portrayed him in this novel."
_From the New York Evening Post._
"The story illustrates anew what has been illustrated a thousand times,
namely, that in the art of story-telling the French are masters, whose
skill we English-speaking folk can never learn. It is not as novelists
that they excel us, for there are English novels enough to contradict
that; but as deft-handed story-tellers and deft-handed playwrights the
French are much superior to any other race."
_From the London Examiner._
"M. Cherbuliez is a very clever novelist, certainly one of the
cleverest of the second rank of living French novelists. A new novel
from his pen is always something to be looked forward to with pleasure;
and if of late his novels have not been so remarkable as formerly, they
are always exceedingly readable. But 'Samuel Brohl et Cie' is more
than merely readable; it is as good in its way as anything that M.
Cherbuliez has ever done."
_From the New York Express._
"The Appletons have commenced the publication of a 'Collection of
Foreign Authors,' which is destined, we think, to be a success, and
which certainly will be a success if its forthcoming volumes are as
good as its first one, which is entitled 'Samuel Brohl & Company,' and
is by that adroit story-teller, Victor Cherbuliez. We do not intend to
give away the plot of this remarkable novel, which is a marvel of
ingenuity from beginning to end."
_From the Philadelphia Item._
"'Samuel Brohl & Company' is a powerful work, possessing a strong,
skillfully-constructed plot, and is admirably elaborated in all its
details."
GERARD'S MARRIAGE:
A NOVEL.
From the French of ANDRE THEURIET.
* * *
(_FORMING No. II. OF "A COLLECTION OF FOREIGN AUTHORS._")
* * *
16mo. Paper covers, 50 cents; cloth, 75 cents.
* * * * *
As exquisite in its form, color, and delicacy, as a choice piece of
Sevres porcelain."--_Literary World_.
"This lovely idyl of French provincial life introduces to the notice of
American readers Theuriet, one of the most quietly enjoyable among
modern French novelists, and one who holds rank among the highest for
his portraiture of the charms of country landscapes, and the sweet
peace and happiness clustering around country-life."--_Providence
Journal_.
"Its chief merit lies in the admirable skill with which it is told, the
skill in apt narration, which seems to be a birthright of all
Frenchmen, and which men of other races never fail to admire, and never
succeed in imitating."--_New York Evening Post_.
"There is much charm in the narrative, the characters are vigorously
sketched, the descriptive portions, especially of out-door life, are
picturesque and animated, and the whole is distinguished by grace and
delicacy."--_Boston Gazette_.
"'Gerard's Marriage' is as exquisite of its kind as Tennyson's
'Princess,' and its moral is that of the old song, 'Love will find out
the way.'"--_New York Express_.
"The use of these simple materials is so artistic, and the story
is so deftly told, that the book is delightful from beginning to
end."--_Detroit Post_.
"The story is pleasant, the characters drawn with that light, firm
touch, peculiar to a Frenchman; the colloquy, if not brilliant, always
to the purpose, and about the whole there plays a poetic light that is
not the less charming because it is so wholly French."--_New York
World_.
"Andre Theuriet excels in the painting of rural scenes, and the
skillful management of romantic comedy."--_Chicago Inter-Ocean_.
"The story is told, particularly the trials of the lovers, with great
vivacity and brilliancy, in which particulars the French seem to excel
all other nations."--_Boston Commonwealth_.
"Affords a charming illustration of the exceeding elegance, refinement,
and delicacy, that mark the romances of Andre Theuriet, one of the most
graceful and popular French novelists of the present time."--
_Providence Journal_.
* * * * *
New York: D. APPLETON & CO., Publishers.