So absorbed was I, either in review or revery, that I felt not when
the concerto closed, and should have remained just where I was, had
not the door swung quietly behind me. I saw who beckoned me from
beyond it, and was instantly with him. He had divested himself of his
cloak, and seemed ready rather to fly than to walk, so light was his
frame, so elastic were his motions. He said, as soon as we were on the
stairs:
"I should have come for you long ago, but I thought it was of no use
until such time as I could find something you might eat; for,
Carlomein, you must be very hungry. I have caused you to forego your
dinner, and it was very hard of me; but if you will come with me, you
shall have something good and see something pretty."
"I am not hungry, sir," I of course replied; but he put up his white
finger,--
"I am, though; please to permit me to eat! Come this way."
He led me along a passage on the ground-floor of the entrance hall and
through an official-looking apartment to a lively scene indeed. This
was a room without walls, a sort of garden-chamber leading to the
grounds of the Academy, now crowded; for the concerto had concluded,
with the whole performance, and the audience had dispersed
immediately, though not by the way we came, for we had met no one.
Pillars here and there upheld the roof, which was bare to the beams,
and also dressed with garlands. Long tables were spread below, all
down the centre, and smaller ones at the sides, each covered with
beautiful white linen, and decked with fluttering ribbons and little
knots of flowers. Here piles of plates and glasses, coffee-cups and
tureens, betokening the purport of this pavilion; but they were
nothing to the baskets trimmed with fruits, the cakes and fancy bread,
the masses of sweetmeat in all imaginable preparation. The middle of
the largest table was built up with strawberries only, and a rill of
cream poured from a silver urn into china bowls at the will of a
serene young female who seemed in charge. A great many persons found
their way hither, and were crowding to the table, and the refreshing
silence was only broken by the restless jingle of spoons and crockery.
My guide smiled with a sprightly air.
"Come! we must find means to approach as well, for the strawberry
pyramid will soon not have left one stone upon another."
I made way instantly to the table, and with no small difficulty
smuggled a plate and had it filled with strawberries. I abjured the
cream, and so did he to whom I returned; but we began to wander up and
down.
"Let me recommend you," said he, "a slice of white bread; it is so
good with strawberries; otherwise you must eat some sausage, for that
fruit will never serve alone,--you might as well starve entirely, or
drink dew-water."
"I don't see any bread," I answered, laughing; "it is all eaten."
"Oh, oh!" he returned, and with the air of Puck he tripped across the
pavilion to a certain table from which the fair superintendent had
flown. The ribbons and wreaths danced in the breeze, but the white
linen was bare of a single loaf.
"I _must_ have some bread for thee, Carlomein; and I, indeed, myself
begin to feel the want unknown to angels."
Could this be the same, it struck me, who discoursed like an angel of
that high throng? So animated was he, such a sharp brightness sparkled
in his eyes.
"Somebody has run away with the loaf on purpose," he continued, with
his dancing smile; "I saw a charming loaf as I came in, but then the
strawberries put it out of my head, and lo! it is gone."
"I _will_ get some bread!" and off I darted out of the pavilion, he
after me, and all eyes upon us.
It was a beautiful scene in the air: a lovely garden, not too trim,
but diversified with mounds and tree-crowned slopes, all furnished
with alcoves, or seats and tables. Here was a hum of voices, there a
fragment of part-song scattered by a laugh, or hushed with reverent
shyness as all arose, whether sitting or lying, to uncover the head as
my companion passed. There were groups of ten or twelve, five or six,
or two and two together; many sat upon the grass, itself so dry and
mossy; and it was upon one of these parties, arranged in half Elysian,
half gypsy style, that my companion fixed his thrilling eyes.
He darted across the grass. "I have it! I see it!" and I was
immediately upon his footsteps. These were all ladies; and as they
wore no bonnets, they could not uncover, but at the same time they
were not conscious of our approach at first. They made a circle, and
had spread a linen cloth upon the fervid floor: each had a plate, and
almost every one was eating, except a young girl in the very middle
of the ring. She was dispensing, slice by slice, our missing
bread-cake. But I did not look farther, for I was lost in observing my
guide; not understanding his expression, which was troubled and
fallen, while his light tones shook the very leaves.
"Ah, the thieves, the rogues, to steal the bread from our very mouths!
Did I not know where I should find it? You cannot want it all: give us
one slice, only one little slice! for we are starving, as you do not
know, and beggars, as you cannot see, for we look like gentlemen."
I never shall forget the effect of his words upon the little group;
all were scared and scattered in a moment,--all except the young lady
who held the loaf in her lap. I do not say she stirred not, on the
contrary, it was the impulsive grace of her gesture, as she swayed her
hand to a little mound of moss by her side, just deserted, that made
me start and turn to see her, that turned me from _his_ face a moment.
"Ah! who art thou?" involuntarily sounded in my yet unaverted ear. He
spoke as if to me, but how could I reply? I was lost as he, but in far
other feelings than his,--at least I thought so, for I was surprised
at his ejaculatory wonder.
"I will cut some bread for you, sir, if you will condescend to sit,"
said a voice, which was as that of a child at its evening prayer, so
full it was of an innocent _idlesse_, not _naivete_, but differing
therefrom as differs the lisp of infancy from the stammer of diffident
manhood.
"I should like to sit; come also, Carlomein," replied my companion;
and in defiance of all the etiquette of social Germany, which so
defiantly breathes ice between the sexes, I obeyed. So did he his own
intention; for he not only remained, but knelt on one knee, while
gazing with two suns in his eyes, he recalled the scattered company.
"Come back! come back!" he cried; "I order you!" and his silent smile
seemed beckoning as he waved his elfin hand. One strayed forward,
blushing through the hair; another disconcerted; and they all seemed
sufficiently puzzled.
The gathering completed, my conductor took up the basket and peeped
into every corner, laughed aloud, handed it about, and stole no glance
at the maiden president. I was watching her, though for a mighty and
thrilling reason, that to describe in any measure is an expectation
most like despair. Had she been his sister, the likeness between them
had been more earthly,--less appalling. I am certain it struck no one
else present, and it probably might have suggested itself to no one
anywhere besides, as I have since thought; but _me_ it clove through
heart and brain, like a two-edged sword whose temper is light instead
of steel. So I saw and felt that she partook intimately, not alone of
his nature, but of his inspiration; not only of his beauty, but his
unearthly habit. And now, how to breathe in words the mystery that was
never explained on earth! He was pure and clear, his brow like
sun-flushed snow high lifted into light,--her own dark if soft, and
toned with hues of night from the purple under-deeps of her heavy
braiding hair. His features were of mould so rare that their study
alone as models would have superseded by a new ideal the old fresh
glories of the Greek marble world,--hers were flexibly inexpressive,
all their splendor slept in uncharacteristic outline, and diffused
themselves from her perfect eyes, as they awoke on her parted lips.
His eyes, so intense and penetrative, so wise and brilliant, with all
their crystal calm and rousing fire, were as unlike hers as the sun in
the diamond to the sun upon the lonely sea. In hers the blue-green
transparence seemed to serve alone as a mirror to reflect all hues of
heaven; in his, the heaven within as often struggled with the paler
show of paradise that Nature lent him in his exile. But if I spoke of
the rest,--of the traits that pierce only when the mere veiling
loveliness is rent asunder,--I should say it must ever bid me wonder
to have discovered the divine fraternity in such genuine and artless
symbol. It was as if the same celestial fire permeated their
veins,--the same insurgent longings lifted their very feet from the
ground. The elfin hands of which I spoke were not more rare, were not
more small and subtile, than the little grasping fingers she extended
to offer him the bread, and from which his own received it. Nor was
there wanting in her smile the strange immortal sweetness that
signalized his own,--hers broke upon her parted lips like fragrance,
the fragrance that _his_ seemed to bear from the bursting buds of
thought in the sunshine of inward fancy. But what riveted the
resemblance most was the instancy of their sympathetic communion.
While those around had quietly resumed their occupation, too busy to
talk,--though certainly they might have been forgiven for being very
hungry,--_he_, no more kneeling, but rather lying than sitting, with
his godlike head turned upwards to the sky, continued to accost her,
and I heard all they said.
"I knew you again directly, you perceive, but you do not look so
naughty now as you did in the school; you were even angry, and I
cannot conceive why."
"Cannot you, sir?" she replied, without the slightest embarrassment.
"I wonder whether _you_ would like to be rewarded for serving music."
"_It_ rewards _us_, you cannot avoid its reward; but I agree with you
about the silver and the gold. We will have no more medals."
"They like them, sir, those who have toiled for them, and who would
not toil but for the promise of something to show."
"And the blue ribbons are very pretty."
"So is the blue sky, and they can neither give it us nor take it from
us; nor can they our reward."
"And that reward?" asked he.
"Is to suffer for its sake," she answered.
He lifted his eyebrows in a wondering archness. "To suffer? To suffer,
who alone enjoy, and are satisfied, and glorify happiness above all
others, and above all other things?"
"Not all suffer, only the faithful; and to suffer is not to sorrow,
and of all joy the blossom-sorrow prepares the fruit."
"And how old are you whose blossom-sorrow I certainly cannot find in
any form upon your maiden presence?"
"You smile, and seem to say, 'Thou hast not yet _lived_ the right to
speak,--purchased by experience the freedom of speech.' I am both
young and old. I believe I am younger than any just here, and I know
more than they all do."
"Was it pride," thought I, "that curled beneath those tones so flowery
soft?" for there was a lurking bitterness I had not found in _him_.
"Not younger than this one;" he took my hand and spread it across his
knee. "These fingers are to weave the azure ribbon next."
"He is coming, I know, but is not come; his name is upon the books. I
hope he will not be an out-Cecilian, because I should like to know
him, and we cannot know very well those who do not reside within the
walls."
"He is one of my very friendly ones. Will you also be very friendly
with him?"
"I always will. Be friendly now!" and she smiled upon me an instant,
very soon letting fall her eyes, in which I then detected a Spanish
droop of the lids, though, when raised, her glance dispelled the
notion, for the brightness there shone all unshorn by the inordinate
length of the lashes, and I never saw eyes so light, with lashes so
defined and dark.
"So, sir, this azure ribbon which you admire is also to be woven for
him?" she continued, as if to prolong the conversation.
"Not if symbols are to be the order of the day, for, Carlomein, your
color is not _blue_."
"No, sir; it is violet, you said."
"We say _blue violets_."
"Yes, sir," she responded quickly. "So we say the blue sky at night;
but how different at night and by day! The violet holds the blue, but
also that deeper soul by the blue alone made visible. All sounds seem
to sleep in one, when that is the violin."
"You are speaking too well; it makes me afraid you will be
disappointed," I said in my first surprise. Then, feeling I had
blundered, "I mean in me."
"That would make no difference. Music is, and is eternal. We cannot
add one moment to its eternity, nor by our inaptitude diminish the
proper glory of our art. Is it not so, sir?" she inquired of him.
Like a little child somewhat impatient over a morning lesson, he shook
his hair back and sprang upon his feet.
"I wish you to show me the garden before I go: is this where you walk?
And where is the Raphael?"
"That is placed in the conservatory, by order of Monsieur
Milans-Andre."
"Monsieur myself will have it moved. Why in the conservatory, I
wonder? It should be _at home_, I think."
"It does look very well there to-day, as it is hung with its peculiar
garland,--the white roses."
"Yes, the angel-roses. Oh, come, see, let us go to the angel-roses!"
and he ran down the bank of grass, and over the lawn among the people.
I was very much surprised at his gleeful impatience, not knowing a
whit to what they alluded; and I only marvelled that no one came to
fetch him, that we were suffered so long to retain him. We followed, I
not even daring to look at the girl who had so expressed herself in my
hearing, as to make me feel there were others who also _felt_; and
turning the corner of the pavilion, we came into the shadow of a
lovely walk planted and arched with lindens. It ran from a side door
of the school house to an indefinite distance. We turned into this
grove, and there again we found him.
"How green, how ravishing!" he exclaimed, as the sunsprent shadows
danced upon the ground. "Oh! that scent of scents, and sweetest of all
sweetnesses, the linden flower! You hold with me there, I think?"
"Yes, entirely; and yet it seems just sweet enough to promise, not to
be, all sweetness."
"I do not hold with you there. All that is sweet we cherish for
itself,--or I do,--and I could not be jealous of any other sweetness
when one sweetness filled up my soul."
"Yes," I thought; but I did not express it, even to myself, as it now
occurs to me,--"_that_ is the difference between your two
temperaments." And so indeed it was: _he_ aspired so high that he
could taste all sweetness in every sweetness, even here;
_she_--younger, weaker, frailer--could only lose herself between the
earth and heaven, and dared not cherish any sweetness to the utmost,
while here unsafely wandering.
"And this conservatory,--how do you use it?"
"We do not use it generally; we may walk round it: but on state
occasions refreshments are served there to our professors and their
friends. I daresay it will be so to-day."
"There will be people in there, you mean? In that case I think I shall
remain, and sun myself on the outside. You, Carlomein, shall go in and
look at the picture for me."
"Is it a picture, sir? But I cannot see it for you; I should be
afraid. I wish you would come in, sir!"
"Ah, I know why! You are frightened lest Aronach should pounce upon
you,--is it not?"
I laughed. "A little, sir."
"Well, in that case I _will_ come in. It does look inviting,--pretty
room!"
We stopped at the conservatory door. It was rather large, and very
long; a table down the centre was dressed with flowers, and
overflowing dishes decked the board. There were no seats, but a narrow
walk ran round, and over this the foreign plants were grouped richly,
and with excelling taste. The roof was not curtained with vine-leaves,
as in England, but it was covered with the immense leaves and
ivory-yellow blossoms of the magnolia grandiflora, which made the
small arched space appear expanded to immensity by the largeness of
its type, and gave to all the exotics an air of home.
At the end of the vista, some thirty feet in length, there were
several persons all turned from us; and as we crept along, one by one,
until we reached that end, the odors of jasmine and tuberose were
heavy upon every breath. I felt as if I must faint until we attained
that point where a cool air entered; refreshing, though itself just
out of the hottest sunshine I had almost ever felt. This breeze came
through arched doors on either hand half open and met in two embracing
currents where the picture hung. All were looking at the picture, and
I instantly refrained from criticism. It was hung by invisible cords
to the framework of the conservatory, and thence depended. About it
and around it clustered the deep purple bells and exquisite tendrils
and leaves of the maurandia, while the scarlet passion-flower met it
above and mingled its mystic splendors. Other strange glories, but for
me nameless, pressing underneath, shed their glowing smiles from
fretted urns or vases; but around the frame, and so close to the
picture as to hide its other frame entirely, lay the cool white roses,
in that dazzling noon so seeming, and amidst those burning colors. The
picture itself was divine as painting can render its earthly ideal, so
strictly significant of the set rules of beauty. All know the "Saint
Cecilia" of Raphael d'Urbino; this was one of the oldest copies, and
was the greatest treasure of the committee, having been purchased for
an extravagant sum by the president from the funds of the
foundation,--a proceeding I did not clearly comprehend, but was too
ignorant to tamper with. It was the young lady who enlightened me as I
stood by her side. Of those who stood there I concluded the most part
had already refreshed themselves; they held plates or glasses, and in
a few moments first one and then another recognized our companion, and
that with a reverential impressiveness it charmed me to behold. It
may have been the result of his exquisitely bright and simple manner,
for he had wholly put aside the awful serene reserve that had
controlled the crowd in public. Milans-Andre happened to be there; I
beheld him now, and also saw that, taking hold upon that arm I should
not have presumed to touch, he drew on our guide as if away from us.
But this one stayed, and resting his hand upon the table, inquired
with politeness for a court,--
"Where is your wife? Is she here to-day? I want to show her to a young
gentleman."
Milans-Andre looked down upon him, for he was quite a head taller,
though not tall himself. "She is here, but not in here. I left her
with the Baroness Silberung. Come and see her in-doors. She will be
highly flattered."
"No, I am not coming; I have two children to take charge of. Where is
Professor Aronach?"
"In the committee-room, and in a great rage,--with you, too, it
appears, Chevalier."
"With me, is it? I am so glad!"
He stepped back to us.
"I do not believe that any one can make him so angry as I can! It is
charming, Carlomein!"
Oh, that name, that dear investment! How often it thrilled me and
troubled me with delight that day.
"I suppose, sir, I have something to do with it."
Before he could reply, Milans-Andre had turned back, and with scornful
complacency awaited him near a glass dish of ices dressed with
ice-plant. He looked revengeful, too, as he helped himself; and on our
coming up, he said, "Do you eat nothing, Chevalier?" while filling a
plate with the pink-frozen strawberry.
"Oh! I could eat it, if I would; for who could resist that
rose-colored snow? But I have no time to eat; I must go find Aronach,
for I dreamed I should find him here."
"My dear Chevalier, drink then with me!"
"In Rhine wine? Oh, yes, mein Herr Professor! and let us drink to all
other professors and chevaliers in ourselves represented."
The delicately caustic tones in which he spoke were, as it were,
sheathed by the unimpeachable grace of his demeanor as he snatched
first one, and then another, and the third, of three tall glasses, and
filling them from the tapering bottle to the brim, presented one to
the lovely girl who had screened herself behind me, one to myself, and
the third to himself; all the while regarding Milans-Andre, who was
preparing his own, with a mirthful expression, still one of the very
sweetest that could allure the gaze.
When Andre looked up, he turned a curious paleness, and seemed almost
stoned with surprise. I could neither understand the one nor the
other; but after our pledge, which we two heartily responded to, my
maiden companion gave me a singular beckoning nod, which the instant
reminded me of Miss Lawrence, and at the same time moved and stood
four or five steps away. I followed to the pomegranate plant.
"Come even closer," she whispered; "for I daresay you are curious
about those two."
If she had not been, as she was, most unusually beautiful to behold, I
should dearly have grudged her that expression,--"those two;" but she
constrained me by her sea-blue eyes to attentive silence.
"You see what a power has the greater one over the other. I have never
seen _him_ before, but my brother has told me about him; besides,
here he is worshipped, and no wonder. The Cecilia School was founded
by one Gratianos, a _Bachist_, about forty years ago, but not to
succeed all at once, of course; the foundations were too poor, and the
intentions too sublime. Louis Spohr's works brought us first into
notice, because our students distinguished themselves at a certain
festival four years ago. The founder died about that time, and had not
Milans-Andre put himself in the way to be elected president, we should
have gone to nothing; but he was rich, and wanted to be richer, so he
made of us a speculation, and his name was sufficient to fill the
classes from all parts of Europe. But we should have worse than gone
to nothing soon, for we were slowly crystallizing into the same order
as certain other musical orders that shall not be named, for perhaps
you would not know what I mean by quoting them."
"I could, if you would explain to me, and I suppose you mean the music
that is studied is not so select as it should be."
"That is quite enough to the purpose," she proceeded, with quite an
adult fluency. "About three months ago we gave a great concert. The
proceeds were for enlarging the premises, and we had a great
crowd,--not in the room we used to-day, which is new, but in the large
room we shall now keep for rehearsals. After the concert, which Andre
conducted, and at which all the prodigies assisted, the conductor read
us a letter. It was from one we had all heard of, and whom many of us
loved secretly, and dared not openly, for reasons sad and many,--from
the 'Young Composer,' as Andre satirically chose to call him, the
Chevalier Seraphael."
"Oh!" I cried, "is that his name? What a wonderful name! It is like
an angel to be called Seraphael."
"Hush! none of that now, because I shall not be able, perhaps, to tell
you what I want you to know before you come here. Seraphael had just
refused the post of Imperial pianist, which had been pressed upon him
very earnestly; and the reason he gave for refusing it certainly
stands alone in the annals of artistic policy,--that there was only
one composer living to whom the office of Imperial pianist should be
confided, and by whom it must be assumed,--Milans-Andre himself. Then
it went on to insinuate that by exclusive exchange only could such an
arrangement be effected; in short, that Milans-Andre, who must not go
out of Austria, should be prevailed upon, in that case, to resign the
humble position that detained him here, to the young composer himself.
Now Milans-Andre did resign, as you may suppose; but, they say, not
without a douceur, and we presented him with a gold beaker engraved
with his own arms, when he retired,--that was not the douceur, mind;
he had a benefit."
"That means a concert, with all the money it brought for himself. But
why did you not see the Chevalier until to-day?"
"Some of ours did,--the band and the chorus; but I do not belong to
either. You have no idea what it is to serve music under Milans-Andre;
and when he came to-day, we all knew what it meant, who were wishing
for a new life. It was a sort of electric snapping of our chains when
he played to-day."
"With that Volkslied?"
"Yes," she responded, with tremulous agitation, "with that Volkslied.
Who shall say he does not know all hearts?"
"But it is not a Burschen song,[16] nor like one; it is like nothing
else."
"No, thank God! a song for the women as well as the men. You never
heard such tones, nor I. Well it was that we could put words to them,
everybody there."
"And yet it was a song without words," said a voice so gentle that it
stole upon my imagination like a sigh.
"Oh, sir, is it you?"
I started, for he was so near to us I was afraid he might have been
vexed by hearing. But she was unchanged, unruffled as a flower of the
conservatory by the wind without. She looked at him full, and he
smiled into her very eyes.
"I only heard your very last words. Do not be afraid, for I knew you
were talking secrets, and that is a play I never stop. But, Carlomein,
when you have played your play, I must carry you to your master, whom
I might call _ours_, and beg his pardon for all my iniquities."
"Oh, sir! as if you needed," I said; but the young lady answered,--
"_I_ shall retreat, then, sir,--and indeed this is not my place."
She courtesied lowly as to a monarch, but without a shadow of
timidity, or so much as the flutter of one rose-leaf, and passed out
among the flowers, he looking after her strangely, wistfully.
"Is not that a Cecilia, Carlomein?"
"If you think so, sir."
"You do not think it? You ought to know as well as I. As she is gone,
let us go."
And lightly as she fled, he turned back to follow her. But we had lost
her when we came into the garden. As he passed along, however, also
among the flowers, he touched first one and then another of the
delicate plants abstractedly, until at length he pulled off one
blossom of an eastern jasmine,--a beautiful specimen, white as his own
forehead, and of perfume sweetest next his breath.
"Oh!" said he gayly, "I have bereaved the soft sisterhood; but," he
added earnestly, as he held the pale blossom between his fairest
fingers, "I wonder whether they are unhappy so far from home. I wonder
whether they _know_ they are away!"
"I should think not, sir, or they would not blossom so beautifully."
"That is nothing, and no reason, O Carlomein! for I have seen such a
beautiful soul that was away from home, and it was very homesick; yet
it was so fair, so very fair, that it would put out the eye of this
little flower."
I could not help saying, or quickly murmuring rather, "It must be your
soul then, sir."
"Is it mine to thee? It is to me another; but that does not spoil thy
pretty compliment."
I never heard tones so sweet, so infantine. But we had reached the
door of the glass chamber, and I then observed that he was gazing
anxiously--certainly with inquiry--at the sky. At that moment it first
struck me that since our entrance beneath the shadowy greenness the
sun had gone in. Simultaneously a shade, as from a springing cloud,
had fallen upon that brilliant countenance. We stepped out into the
linden grove, and then it came upon me, indeed, that the heavens were
dulled, and a leaden languor had seized upon the fresh young foliage.
Both leaves and yellow blossom hung wearily in the gloom, and I felt
the intense lull that precedes an electric shower. I looked at him. He
was entirely pale, and the soft lids of his eyes had dropped,--their
lights had gone in like the sun. His lips seemed to flutter, and he
spoke with apprehensive agitation.
"I think it will rain, but we cannot stay in the conservatory."
"Sir, it will be dry there," I ventured.
"No, but if it should thunder."
At the very instant the western cloudland, as it were, shook with a
quivering flash, though very far off; for the thunder was, indeed, but
a mutter several minutes afterwards. But he seemed stricken into
stillness, and moved not from the trees at the entrance of the avenue.
"Oh! sir," I cried,--I could not help it, I was in such dread for
him,--"do not stand under the trees. It is a very little way to the
house, and we can run."
"Run, then," he answered sweetly. "But I cannot; I never could stir in
a storm."
"Pray, sir, oh pray, come!" the big drops were beginning to prick the
leafy calm. "And you will take cold too, sir. Oh, come!"
But he seemed as if he could scarcely breathe. He pressed his hands on
his brow and hid his eyes. I thought he was going to faint; and under
a vague impression of fetching assistance, I rushed down the avenue.
FOOTNOTE:
[16] The Volkslied is a people's song; the Burschenlied a student's
song.