SECRET, SILENT LOVE.
The parents entered Manna's cell. Manna calmly met them, and said,--
"Welcome, and may God's blessing be with you!" She extended her hand to
her father; her hand thrilled as she felt the ring on her father's
thumb. Then she threw herself upon her mother's breast and kissed her.
"Forgive me," she cried, "forgive me! Do not think me heartless; I must
do so--no, I will to do so. I thank you, that you have granted my
request."
"Yes, indeed, we put no constraint upon you," said the mother; and
Sonnenkamp, who had not yet assented, was obliged to comply with her
wishes.
Manna's countenance became suddenly lighted up; she said that she was
glad to see her parents looking so well, and that she prayed for them
daily, and that heaven would hearken to her prayer. Manna had a tone of
voice in which one seemed to feel the repressed tears; this voice
appeared to affect Sonnenkamp, so that he placed his hand upon his
heart, and his posture and look were as if he were making a silent vow.
When Manna asked after Roland, he said, with the mien of one speaking
to a person who has been ill and is just convalescent, that Roland was
in the park, and Manna must go with them, and greet the ladies and Herr
von Pranken.
When her father mentioned this name, a slight shudder went over Manna,
but she said with immediate composure,--
"I will see no one but you and Roland."
A lay-sister was sent for Roland. Meanwhile, Manna explained, that,
according to the regulations, she must return for a year to the world,
and then--she hesitated a moment, and ended with the words--if her
present resolution continued, she would take the veil.
"And will you never tell me, why and how this thought has sprung up in
you?" asked Sonnenkamp in a supplicating tone.
"Indeed I will, father, when it is all over."
"I don't comprehend! I don't comprehend it!" cried Sonnenkamp aloud.
Manna hushed the loud tone of her father with her hand, signifying to
him that here in the convent no one spoke so loud.
Roland, after whom they had been looking for a long time, was terrified
and shrank back, when, awakened suddenly by a form clothed in black, he
found himself in the church. He was conducted to Manna. He embraced his
sister heartily, crying out,--? "You good, bad sister!"
He could say no more, from the impetuosity of his feelings.
"Not so violent," said the maiden, soothingly. "Indeed! what a strong
lad you have got to be!"
"And you so tall! And you look like him, but Eric, is handsomer than
you are. Yes, laugh if you will! Isn't it so, mother? Isn't it, father?
Ah, how glad he will be when you return home, and how much you will
like him too!"
Roland talked sometimes of St. Anthony, sometimes of Eric, mingling
them together, and telling what an excellent man he had for a teacher
and friend: and when Manna said that she should not go home until
spring, Roland ended by saying,--
"You can very well imagine how Herr Eric looks; when you go into the
chapel, look at St. Anthony, he looks exactly like him, exactly as
good. But he can also be strict; he has been an artillery-officer."
Again the father made the request, and the mother joined in it, that
Manna would accompany them in their journey to the baths, after which
she would be allowed to come back to the convent.
Manna informed them that she could not interrupt her studies and her
retreat.
The strange, thrilling tone of her voice had something saddening in it,
and when she now stated how earnestly she hoped to become clear and
resolute in her determination to be constant to the religious life,
tears came into her mother's eyes. But her father gazed fixedly at her;
he hardly saw his child, hardly knew where he was. He heard a voice,
which once--it seemed incredible that he was the same person--he had
heard many, many years ago; and as he thus gazed, he saw not his child,
not the scenes around him, he saw nothing but a neglected little mound
of earth in the churchyard of a Polish village. He passed his broad
hand over his whole face, and, as if waking up, he looked now at his
child, and heard her saying,--
"I shall be constant to the life."
He had heard all that had here transpired, and yet his thought and his
internal eye had been fixed upon a far distant scene, scarcely
comprehensible. Now he repeated his request that Manna would just go
with them into the park, and salute the friends; that she ought not to
slight them; but Manna firmly persisted that she could not go.
Manna had requested a sister to send for Heimchen; the child came, and
looked wonderingly at the strangers. Manna pointed out to the child her
parents and her brother. The child, scarcely glancing at the parents,
nestled up to Roland, when Manna said,--
"This is my brother I have told you of."
"I like you," said the child, "I like you."
She was as confiding with Roland as if she had always played with him.
"And will you be my brother?" asked the child.
Manna declared how happy it made her, to be able to do so much for the
child.
Sonnenkamp hummed to himself,--
"Yes, yes, that's the way. I know what you are, a child who takes to a
stranger child. But enough!"
He rose hastily.
The parents and Roland left the cell. Manna remained there with
Heimchen.
Upon the steps, Sonnenkamp said to his wife,--
"This is your doing! The child is estranged from me; you have turned
her heart from me, you have said to her----"
A strange laugh, a laugh sounding as if it came from some other person,
was uttered by Frau Ceres. Roland stared at her; here is something
incomprehensible to him.
The parents and the boy rejoined the visitors in the park, and
Sonnenkamp informed them very calmly that he had given permission to
his daughter, in order not to interrupt and disturb her education by
outside impressions, to remain at the convent until Easter. Pranken
darted a strange glance at Sonnenkamp, and then expressed his
admiration of the imperturbable composure with which Sonnenkamp
accomplished everything.
Bella and Fraeulein Perini had walked over the island. They did not
return for a long time; at last they came from the room of the
Superior.
Evening was approaching, and as they embarked on the boat, Roland
cried, looking towards the convent,--
"Good-night, Manna."
Manna had heard the good-bye, she had slipped into the park, taken a
farewell look at the departing visitors, and then went quietly into the
chapel.
As they reached the shore, they heard the choir of girls' voices
singing with clear tone at the convent.
"This may sound very fine to him who has no child joining in it," said
Sonnenkamp to himself.
In the large inn there was hurrying and commotion, as if a prince had
arrived with his suite, for Sonnenkamp was fond of making a display of
his wealth. The large garden was festively illuminated, this party of
travellers was served with special consideration, and every other
arrival, on this evening, hardly received any attention. When all was
still, a boat, in which Pranken sat, rowed over to the convent. He
landed on the island, and heard the music of a harp from an open
window. That came from Manna, he was sure. Soon a light was visible in
a cell, here and there, windows were opened, the heads of girls
appeared and looked out once more into the night; then the windows were
closed, the lights extinguished, and the harp-playing ceased.
Pranken saw the church open, and entering, he knelt down and prayed
silently. Then he heard a light step, and a sound, as if some one knelt
down before the altar; a thrill passed over him, and yet he did not
look up, and if he had, he could not have recognized any thing in the
darkness lighted only by the solitary, ever-burning lamp. The form
arose, and went towards the open church door. The moon cast a broad
beam as far as the middle aisle of the church; now, as the form stood
in the doorway, Pranken approached and said,--
"Fraeulein Manna, a friend. Fear not, a man, who through you has known
salvation, stands before you. I have not come to shake your holy
resolve, I have only come to tell you what I have become by your
instrumentality. No, I cannot tell you--but you ought to know this,--if
you take the veil, then I also will renounce the world; apart from each
other, so long as we live on this earth, we will live for heaven.
Farewell, a thousand times farewell, thou pure, thou blessed one!
farewell!"
The young man and the maiden looked upon each other as if they were no
longer living creatures of human passions, as if they were transported
above the world. Manna could not utter a single word; she simply dipped
her hand into the vessel of holy water, and sprinkled Pranken's face
three times.
With hasty step, Pranken went to the shore. Manna stood and laid her
hand upon her brow.
Has all this been only a vision of her own fancy?
Then she heard the stroke of oars in the river, and a voice again
cried:--
"Thou pure, thou blessed one!"
Then all was still.
On the other side a chain rattled, the boat was drawn up to the shore,
and no sound was heard; only the waves of the river, which are not
heard by day, rippled and plashed and murmured in the still night.
Manna thought that she could hear the blood as it flowed through her
heart, so full, so oppressed, and yet so blissful.