"Whether 'tis evil, or whether 'tis good,
Done in the day, or in darkness of night,
Even the thoughts that do lie in the heart,--
All shall be brought to the glare of the light."
--TRANSLATED FROM FREIDANK.
It had been a blow in the face to good society. The misfortune of
Wulf's low birth might have been condoned; but the fact of his having
so openly, and even defiantly, claimed it as a distinction could not
be passed over. The affair, therefore, paralyzed many a mother who
had been quietly laying plans to capture the young man. Who would
not prefer a pleasant young son-in-law to an old _blasé_ standing on
golden feet? But this Wulf was discovered to stand only upon his
own. Lady Von Kahring was reproached with great venality by society
at large. She had introduced him, as well as protected him, under
her powerful name, and she had even intimated that he was a wealthy
Austrian. Beneath this fine showing, this one and that one had
blushed when she thought of him, and how heartily and urgently all,
even men, had coveted his presence. But now he must be made to feel
his true position.
Of course there were some far-sighted ones who looked into the
future, and were not disposed to decry a physician; and there were
others who recognized the nobility of Wulf's behavior; but what could
these few do in the face of the great majority? Conformity to
fashionable usage is a terrible tyrant, but non-conformity is a still
greater one. Ericksen was poor, his humble origin evident; therefore
he was doomed. Naturally they were too polite to ignore him
immediately; but he must occupy a different position. But their
sufferance Wulf did not desire. His manhood was aroused--a manhood
which refused to bow down before these people. What had they given
him that he should render tribute? He wished to tear himself away
from them, to turn his back upon them, to require nothing from them
as if they were beneath him. Only one pang entered his soul: if he
were banished from society, there would be no opportunity to see
Sibylla again.
And yet she had evidently sought to encourage him. How she had
prevailed upon her lofty-minded mamma to send him an invitation was
more than he could guess. Besides, the Baroness Von Kaiser also
recognized him most amiably, as well as the Kahrings; for while Lady
Von Kahring was fortified with great pride, she and her son did not
forget that the fisherman's son had saved two valuable lives in their
family. Elsewhere the doors were closed to Wulf, and he no longer
craved to have them open. But society was still a friendless circle
to him.
The ill-usage a man experiences sharpens his understanding, but
embitters the heart. Wulf began to be very unamiable, and to look at
every thing with hypercritical eyes. When one stands in a dark
corner he can see all the better what goes on in the light. Wulf now
observed keenly that fashionable society intercourse was devoid of
love and favor, and that while every one carried himself finely and
courtly, no one had the courage to appear just as he really was. A
large part of the young people were young without youth; what sounded
fresh and bright was tiresome and stereotyped--first to slay, then
artfully to restore to life. Where had his eyes been, hitherto, that
they only saw these people surrounded with glory? Now he observed
for the first time that empty heads sat by full tables, and that
while the pearls which adorned the lovely forms were genuine, the
hair was false. He saw and heard even more. He was convinced that
Herr Von Lenkseuring ridiculed the inexperienced Olga, at the same
time he was weaving a web around the rich maiden's love.
"Have you caught the gold-fish yet?" a lieutenant was heard to ask
Von Lenkseuring.
"It has bitten, but I shall let it wriggle awhile," was the coarse
reply.
"Take care it doesn't escape."
Just then Wulf was observed standing near.
"P'st! the fisherman's son!" laughed the lieutenant.
Wulf controlled himself. He was indeed a fisherman's son; but these
gentlemen should take heed lest the fisherman's son let the fish out
of the net. He approached Olga Von Steinfels. In his bold, frank
way, he said earnestly:
"Fraulein, beware of Herr Von Lenkseuring: he means no good to you."
The style of his warning was not commendable, but it scarcely
deserved the treatment it received. The young woman blushed deeply,
and without a word turned her back upon Wulf. Dr. Uhlhart had seen
the proceeding. Perhaps he divined the cause. He enjoyed
interpreting things falsely. It was now only a short time before all
sorts of unseemly and regardless things were repeated, which Herr
Ericksen had perpetrated. Many believed too readily these buzzing
rumors in the air, as confirmations that low birth and low
inclinations went hand-in-hand. It is marvelous how like a serpent
creeps a wicked, calumniating word from place to place; one can not
catch it, but the poisonous breath it spreads around an unfortunate
person is evident. And Wulf soon perceived this venom, without
knowing whence it came. Always earnest, he devoted himself to his
studies. True, the ideal of his professional calling was removed far
from him. So demoralizing had life been to him on account of his
experiences with the want of integrity and human love, that his
ambition to become a celebrated physician, in order to relieve
suffering by his skill, had been dispelled. The ideas which formerly
animated him were now repulsive, and stood like good spirits
lamenting in the distance. Besides this, a formidable enemy
approached Wulf. It was materialism. He could not reconcile the
intuition which science gave him with the fundamental principles of
Christianity as he had learned them at home. He gave to materialism,
which raises its head high to the student of medicine, a sacred,
prominent place, second to Christianity. If he had only possessed
the true spirit of the latter, it would have comforted and calmed
him; but it was only a vague, empty shadow. God, Christianity,
immortality, gradually became to Wulf vain, hollow words. While he
still battled for them against the advancing enemy, and only desired
to know the truth, he was continually entangled by them. Science had
not informed the young, vigorous student how to interpret those deep
watchwords in the controversy.
Olga Von Steinfels sat in her room. She had now been two years from
boarding-school and into society. As an uncontaminated lady she had
returned to her father's home. Childhood had been outgrown. Why had
she pursued so many hundred studies? Why had she continued French
and English so long, if not to show their utility in society? And
yet a good genius had folded its pinions around Olga, in order that
the allurements of pleasure and the fascination of wealth might not
harm the susceptible maiden. This good genius had been a love for
Wulf.
He had been the first to pay her marked attention in the days of his
glory; but she had been pressed back by the circle of her associates,
on account of a natural timidity, and they had praised and
monopolized the one whose manly beauty and agreeable friendliness had
been so pleasant to her. How she envied them! Soon she had builded
airy, fanciful castles, in which Wulf the king, and herself the
queen, were enthroned. True, he had given her little encouragement
for these fantasies, but Olga never knew how much she really owed to
the fisherman's son. He was the star upon which she gazed, and the
miserable baubles she had formerly admired faded away utterly. She
was, for the most part, like many girls of her age, from youth
accustomed to think herself the center of the universe; to adore
externals more than to discern true merit; to enjoy herself with the
happy, and to shed a tear with the sorrowing; to pass her days as
best she might, and look upon the childish frivolities of life as its
highest aims.
To-day Sibylla has called upon Olga. They are not intimate friends,
but the fair hostess is not wholly able to conceal from her guest her
hopes and happiness. Sibylla is too polite to question her very
closely; but she has, herself, thought Wulf had shown recently much
solicitation for Olga, and Dr. Uhlhart had also intimated the same to
her. Suddenly, however, she has become so cool and restrained that
little Olga is wholly frightened. When Sibylla had returned home she
said to herself: "What is it to me? He can do as he pleases; but if
he really loves this superficial girl, he is not the man I have
believed him to be. And as for Olga--well, when one feels deeply it
is difficult to express a sentiment. But what does it matter to me?"
Sometime after, Dr. Uhlhart called upon Sibylla. He talked of
various things, and finally mentioned Wulf. Being careful to defend
him, he at the same time related so many wicked and disagreeable
stories about him that one so bright as Sibylla could not fail to be
impressed. And the doctor knew her well enough to discern just what
displeased her. He described how Wulf had suddenly evinced a great
interest in the lower classes; how he loafed in beer-saloons in order
to acquaint himself with the working-men who especially pleased him.
He regretted Wulf had so little consideration, and that he went so
far as to ridicule those with whom he had formerly associated. In
this way he dropped the poison in Sibylla's ear. She was silent. At
length she silenced him with: "And why, pray, do you tell me all
this? It interests me very little to hear of people's failings."
The doctor bit his lips. But why did his glance pierce Sibylla so
keenly? Had he made a good stroke, or had he made a fool of himself?
He feared the latter; but a point had been gained, perhaps, and he
knew it was necessary to take many tricks to win a game.
Lady Von Steinfels sat holding a letter in her hand. It had come by
post, without seal or signature. The writer declared his desire to
call her attention to the fact that Wulf Ericksen was paying court to
her daughter, and not in vain. He had observed this himself, as well
as heard it spoken of in many places. He therefore felt under
obligation to inform the mother by direct communication. At first
Lady Von Steinfels threw the letter indignantly aside, feeling that
an anonymous letter was unworthy of notice; but after some
conversation with her daughter, she discovered that her unknown
correspondent knew more about her family affairs than she did; for
Olga stood before her, and, with hot tears, protested she loved Wulf,
and that any opposition from her mother would render her unspeakably
miserable.
"Child, child!" said Lady Von Steinfels, soothingly, "you are too
young to know the meaning of love. Only believe me when I assure you
that what we imagine to be love at first, soon passes off, and is
nothing but a dream or fleeting fancy. In a little while you will
laugh over this, and look upon it as a folly."
Olga turned scornfully away. She had not been educated on a mother's
heart, and she had scarcely been out of boarding-school before her
young soul had been filled with love's dreams. Her mother was no
friend in whom she might confide. Olga had never been taught to
trust her, and how could she expect this inexperienced, intoxicated
girl to please her or to obey her with a willing heart?
But the mother's heart was bitter. An inner voice warningly asked:
"Why have you given over your only child to strangers? Was not your
home large enough for both?" "Alas! there was no room there. Social
duties, a husband's position, left no time to look after my daughter.
I did what thousands of others have done--gave her the advantages of
the best boarding-school and the most expensive teachers. Now I want
to be her friend. O, why should I be treated so?" she mourned.
Olga continued steadfast in her love and trust. But how long? When
she found that Wulf no longer gave her any attention, when she heard
nothing but evil reports of his behavior, she confessed that her
mother was right. It was the young soul's first disappointment, and
she was bitter and hard in her conclusions. Olga asked: What is the
use of living? Why dress and go out into company where everybody
deceives and lies? What should she do there? Lie and deceive also?
A torturing pang shot through her inmost soul during these days, when
she was forced to accept the position as the best wisdom. Well is it
for us that the future is hidden!
What Dr. Uhlhart had repeated was not wholly untrue. Wulf had really
desired to become acquainted with the so-called "common people;" he
wished to discover whether they possessed, under perhaps a rude
exterior, a better kernel than those among higher classes. Perhaps
he did not take the best method to secure his aim, especially since
Uhlhart, who had proffered his services as companion, was no good
guide.
Wulf had a horror for this man, and yet he could not shake off his
influence--an influence that Uhlhart exerted over many with
demoniacal power. Wulf found as little of what he sought among the
working-class as he had in aristocratic circles, and it was very
agreeable to him when one of his instructors strongly advised him to
spend his third year in some other place. He desired to go away from
Sibylla, as his affection for her continued to increase, and he had
no reason to believe it was reciprocated. What she had approved so
openly upon that eventful evening concerned the subject, not the
person. She was among a circle of acquaintances who gave her perfect
liberty of action. She had openly enough during the latter months
shown Wulf that she asked nothing from him, as she only vindicated
him on account of the opposition against him. Wulf was too honorable
to ask her a direct question; for he had no home to offer and as yet
no prospect of one. Still, for a time longer, life played itself
away, until now it was Summer, and people were enjoying themselves at
the various watering-places. If one met an acquaintance on the
streets of Berlin it was a source of as great surprise as if he had
met him on the bay at Naples.
Then Wulf packed up his traps, and started off likewise. This time
not homeward; he had no desire to go there, and all communication
with his relatives had been confined to an occasional letter. He
would first wander through Thuringia, then go to Jena. When he went
to take leave of Lady Von Herbig, he found she had gone; Uhlhart had
given him a later day for her departure. But it was well enough so,
as it made his own leaving easier.
Wulf had learned many things in Berlin. His knowledge, his intuition
were richer, and his understanding had been formed. He had also
unlearned much. He had not become actually wicked, for his manly
heart revolted against dishonesty; but many of his noble aspirations
had been wrested from him with icy grasp. He longed for the good
things of earth; but he was not happy, for his soul was not
satisfied. So he went to Jena. "I behold a youth whose true inner
self excites my love, but I fear he is only too apt to swim with the
current of time. He has given his rudder into the hands of one who
will prove unfaithful, and his frail boat will not be able to stem
the tide, but will obey the guidance of its destroyer."
Uhlhart accompanied Wulf, whom he called his friend, to the railroad
station. When he had disappeared from view, he rubbed his hands
gleefully and said: "Now, with regard to Fraulein Sibylla it shall be
'out of sight, out of mind,' and I shall take care she will learn
what a vulgar peasant has attracted her attention."