He bent down to her and kissed her through her veil on both cheeks.
Silently she choked back her tears. Almost at the same moment the two
young girls in front yielded to the same impulse and gave each other a
kiss, looking round afterwards as if it were a crime.
"See," Leo whispered in his mother's ear. "They imitate their elders."
"There is so much love in the world that doesn't know what to do to
find an outlet," said she.
"Now, mummy," he laughed. "You speak as if you wore trousers."
"Why, dear boy?"
"Because that remark is almost too apt to come from any one in
petticoats."
Grandmamma thought this an abominable insinuation, and passing on to
speak of Hertha, she expressed her fear that the way in which he
treated her was not the right one, that it had evidently damped her,
and might alienate her from him altogether.
He was going to make some reply, but at that moment they came within
the sacred boundary which surrounded the small unpretending village
churchyard, where, under the shadow of the primeval limes, the
Sellenthins for centuries had found their last resting-place. A row of
ivy-covered mounds, each enclosed in its simple iron railings, ran
along under the whitewashed church wall, only divided from it by a
narrow gravel path. There was a soft rustling in the boughs of the
limes, and the deep tones of the organ, subdued and indistinct, coming
through the high round window, fell on Leo's ear.
Involuntarily he stood still and folded his hands.
His mother, who divined his feelings, withdrew her hand quietly from
his arm, and fell back a few steps. The girls, who had hurried on, were
now out of sight.
He felt his heart swell like a flood within him.
Since he was four years old he had trodden this path. Within the
whitewashed fence, at the gate of which the village swains gathered,
and where, as of old, the bread-woman with her basket of loaves, and
the old soldier with the wooden-leg and forage-cap, crouched on the
cobble-stones, he had been used to shake off the week-day dust and
cobwebs that clogged his soul. The high spirits and troubles of the
schoolboy; the youth's defiance, and war of the senses; the grown man's
household cares and imperiousness; aye, and that wild sweet mysterious
something which now was done with for ever,--all these had been left
behind him as he entered the churchyard gates. The graves of his
ancestors had ever sent a pure, soothing thrill through his being, so
that he had come into God's House as one absolved and purified. And yet
the feeling of holy reverence which awoke in him now was not comparable
with anything that had ever before appealed to his careless heart with
exhortation and blessing. He asked himself, in astonishment, how he
could all these years have borne so carelessly the terrible dead weight
on his mind, without doing violence to the world or going mad. Only
now, when the burden had dropped off, did he know what he had been
dragging about with him, and a sense of unutterable blissful relief
took possession of him at the thought that he might in future hold up
his head as a free man.
He caught his mother's hand in his. She had been busying herself with
removing weeds from the foot of the railings, but now came and stood
beside him before the last grave in the row, the grave of Leo's father.
Leo Eberhard von Sellenthin.
"Woe to him that coveteth an evil covetousness to his house, that he
may set his nest on high."
Such was the inscription which, according to the desire of the
deceased, was carved on the rugged marble tombstone. He had been a
powerful man, irresistible when amiable, terrible in wrath. He had
maintained a whole troop of mistresses, and had allowed two magnificent
estates, Ellerthal and Rothwitz, to pass into a stranger's hands, to
save, as he said, the honour of his house. Old Kletzingk, Ulrich's
father, and Count Prachwitz, Johanna's husband, had been his cronies.
It was current gossip amongst the country folk that in an hour of
dissipation he had gambled away his young and blooming eldest daughter
to the count, a daring steeple-chase rider, and a man given up to
betting and horse-racing. Before he reached his seventieth year he had
been laid in his grave, and his neglected wife, to whose share there
had fallen from time to time only a few crumbs of love from the table
of others, sighed and mourned for him still, and held his memory
sacred.
Mother and son breathed a quiet prayer, and took stolen glances at each
other the while. She would fain gather from his face whether he had
forgiven his father for the sale of the land; he from hers whether she
still cherished love and regret in her heart for the dead. And then
they both smiled.
"I thank you so much," she said softly, caressing his arm. "I should
still have loved him, even if he had left us naked to beg by the
roadside."
"But why do you thank me?" he asked.
"Because I can read in your face that you no longer reproach him."
"Would it be fitting for me to reproach him," he answered, "when I
began where he left off? But never mind, mummy, all is going to look up
now. I have got such a nice motto of my own. It will help me a lot,
even to contend with the devil himself! But I would rather keep it to
myself, and not tell you what it is, for if you knew how much hangs on
it, you would be sure to cry out and wring your hands. Five or even ten
years hence we will talk of this again, and then I shall be able to
tell you if it has answered."
They turned and walked to the vestry, where the two girls were waiting
for them.
The squire's family enjoyed the privilege of entering the church by the
vestry door. The first two rows of pews, which were cushioned and
divided from the rest by a carved oak screen, were reserved for their
use. The pastor must already have gone into the chancel, for the vestry
was empty. Leo had wanted to greet him before service, and he was a
little put out now that he had not first paid him a visit in his own
house.
"Is Johanna there?" he asked Elly, who was peeping at the congregation
through a crack in the door.
She started as if she had been caught committing a theft, for she had
just at that moment seen the Herr Kandidat, who was by this time seated
in the parsonage pew.
"What's the matter?" asked Leo.
Whereupon Hertha threw her arm round her waist protectingly, and gave
him a hostile look.
"Allons," he said, smiling, and then set his face, for he knew that as
he came into the church the gaze of all his tenants would be fastened
upon him.
The first thing he saw was Johanna's dark eyes with a peculiar light in
them. She fixed them on him unflinchingly. He gave her a careless,
indifferent nod, but took care that the girls as well as his mother
should fill the places in the pew between him and his eldest sister. He
had no wish to be disturbed in his worship by the near proximity of the
gloomy, inscrutable face.
The pastor had mounted the pulpit and thrown himself on his knees, with
his head resting against the edge of the pulpit cushion. His face
remained buried in his arms, and only the well-oiled dome of his skull
flashed down on the congregation. Leo gave him a scrutinizing upward
glance, and murmured to himself, with a sly smile, "He's feeling sick,
I'll bet."
Just above the worthy man's crown a wisp of hair stood on end, and,
like a reed in the wind, flopped hither and thither. Leo's father used
to gauge the sabbatical alcoholic condition of the stout minister by
this unmistakable sign. The knowledge had early descended from father
to son, and when his old tutor was in a good humour Leo had many a time
teased him about it.
"Wonder how he'll come through the ordeal," thought he. For of course
the old fellow would have to refer to the home-coming of his high-born
patron and send up a prayer of thanksgiving to Heaven. He leaned back
comfortably in his seat, twirled his thumbs, and felt prepared to sit
through cheerfully the service of praise which seemed especially
ordained to glorify himself. The sunbeams danced everywhere, casting
little shafts of red, green, and yellow light on the steps of the
altar, the desks of the choir, and the tiles of the floor, illuminating
the grey faces of the old, and making the bright colouring of the young
more radiant. They climbed up the leaden organ-pipes and sat laughing
on the brown-paper hymn-books. The branches of the limes swayed gently
against the stained-glass windows, as if they too wished to greet the
returned squire; and when the leaves swept the window-panes there was a
rustling and murmuring, like children whispering to each other before
falling asleep. A peaceful dreamy atmosphere of home reigned in the
quiet little church.
Pastor Brenckenberg lifted his head. From his bloated countenance his
eyes, full of gloom and bull-dog obstinacy, surveyed the congregation.
They passed from one to the other as if they would have liked to devour
one after the other. When they reached Leo they remained riveted.
"What have you taken into your old pate to-day?" the latter said to
himself, and acknowledged the tyrant with a friendly wink; but it was
not returned with any sign of recognition.
The prayers came to an end. The epistle followed uneventfully. But in
the big man's voice there was a growling undertone which reminded Leo
of his worst boyish scrapes in the days when that great red puffy hand
wielded the birch over him.
"Beloved in the Lord," the pastor began his discourse, making his ten
finger-tips meet as he spoke, "last night I had a curious and
terrifying dream...."
"Yes, yes, I dare say," thought Leo. "Why drink so much beer on
Saturday night, old boy?"
"I dreamt that I was Nathan, that prophet of the Old Testament who
walked the earth in the days of the godly King David, and to whom it
was granted to see the greatest glory of the people of Israel. Well, I
was this prophet." He made a pause, and blew his nose. When he had
straightened himself again, his eyes rolled so threateningly in their
red sockets that Elly, who sat next to Leo, involuntarily edged nearer
him. "There appeared to me the Lord, the Lord of Sabaoth, at the
mention of whose very name we all shudder. He it was, and no other. His
beard was of flames, His eyes were burning suns, a mantle of fire hung
from his shoulders and nearly covered the whole horizon with its folds.
I fell on my knees and trembled. Have any of you ever seen me tremble?
Not one of you ... but, beloved brethren, at the sight of the Lord I
trembled, for that was no small thing. One of you arch-sinners in
Wengern, who idle all day under the hay-ricks and play the fool all
night in the taverns, would simply be blown to the four winds of heaven
if the Lord deigned to reveal Himself to any such beggarly hound."
"A good beginning," thought Leo, who knew this little joke of old; and
he chuckled to himself, well-pleased; but the glances which the old man
again cast on him seemed to promise him nothing pleasant.
"And the Lord spoke to me. His voice was like the roar of the sea when
a storm is raging. He spake, 'Nathan, get thee gone to David thy king
and My servant. He has done evil in My sight, and his deed stinks
before heaven!' 'What has he done, dear God?' I asked. 'What has he
done? Shame on you, you short-sighted priest, if your eyes have not
seen. He has seduced Uriah's wife, and Uriah the Hittite he hath
suffered to be put to death at the hands of his captain, Joab, before
the gates of Thebez, so that she should tarry with him and live as his
wedded wife.' 'Verily, dear God,' said I, 'that is an ugly story. But
Thou knowest how here on earth every deadly sin is permitted to the
great--robbery, murder, adultery, bearing false witness, and other
crimes; but the poor and humble, the peasants, and in particular the
peasants' sons, may not commit the smallest sin--not even play with
their tobacco-pouches in church'--of which those sitting on the back
benches may make a note."
A solemn silence followed; only from the bottom of the church came a
rustling sound like some one hurriedly putting things away.
Leo's smile died. He let his folded hands drop from the white waistcoat
and fidgeted uneasily.
The old man went on: "'And what is more, dear God,' said I to the Lord,
'how easily I might come to lose my office of prophet and have to go
begging in the streets, for the kings of this world do not like to be
told the truth.' But the Lord spake, 'Fear not, what thou doest is done
in My name.' Therewith He disappeared. But I girded up my loins and set
forth to journey to the palace of the king. There I expected to find
King David weeping in sackcloth and ashes, such as he has described in
the beautiful psalm of repentance, which of course you all would know,
if you did not prefer spending Sunday afternoon shooting at the
bull's-eye, instead of staying at home piously reading your Bibles....
But what do you think met my eyes? The king was seated at meat in
splendid raiment, laughing and jocund, a bottle of sweet wine before
him, and beside him on the right hand was his beloved Bathsheba--for
that was the woman's name. He had grown stout, and he raised his glass
to drink to me. Therewith he called out to me, 'Well, you priestling,
what's brought you to me once more?' For like all the great ones of the
earthy he delighted to mock at the servants of the Lord, although they
can't do without them, if they want all their people to obey them, even
such scum as have gone to sleep again to-day in this church. But I knew
no fear, for the spirit of the Lord was within me. And I rent my
garments and cried, 'Woe, woe, unto thee, my king, what hast thou
done?'"
Leo could not be in doubt. While the pastor almost shrieked forth these
last words till they echoed shrilly through the church, his small
rolling eyes were fixed piercingly, and angrily, upon him.
What did it mean?
Was there another person in the world who knew? Could the secret have
found its way from the grave where it lay buried, to pop out of this
old man's brain?
"But I threw myself on the ground and tore my hair," he continued, with
fresh zeal, and caught at his thin locks with both hands. "'Woe, woe,'
I cried. 'Thou hast shamed and degraded thy kingly office, thou hast
rebelled against the Lord's commands. A fire from Heaven shall consume
thee. Thy memory shall be wiped from off the face of the earth which
thou hast polluted with thy lusts.' Thus I cried, and a shudder shook
the sinful body of the king."
At the same instant Leo felt a sensation of hot and cold water running
down his neck.
"Too absurd," he thought, grasping the rough ledge of the pew. "Can an
old sot like this give me qualms of conscience?"
"'What art thou raving about, stupid priest?' the king made reply. 'Do
you think my conscience will suffer qualms through you?'"
Leo started. To the exact words the preacher seemed to have divined his
thoughts.
"And he took hold of his bottle of wine to throw it at my head. But the
majesty of the Lord fell on me, His poor servant, so that my aspect was
terrible and filled him with fear. His pride fell away, and he
stuttered forth, quite downcast, 'What shall I do to become once more
the dear child of my dear Lord God?' 'It shall so come to pass,' said
I, 'if thou repentest. Thou shalt moan and beat thy breast in sackcloth
and ashes, because of thy fault, for it stinks before heaven. So
speaketh the Lord thy God.'"
Leo looked down. The man above him was half prophet, half mountebank,
but he was right. The deed stank before Heaven. No jesting could alter
the fact.
"And the king grew angry, and called Bathsheba to him, who stood
shaking in his presence. 'Get thee gone, thou temptress, for I am sick
of thee. It was for thy sake that I went astray into the path of sin,
and can no more be redeemed therefrom by Heavenly Grace. Thou canst
marry another man, and no more come in my sight.' And Bathsheba, who
was very beautiful, and from crown to heel a courtesan, began to weep
and wail and cover her face. But I came between them and I said, 'Cast
her not out, for she is the companion of thy sin. Thou shalt repent for
her as thou repentest for thyself. Thou shalt not part from her, so
that thy sin shall never be forgotten. Only in that way canst thou
conciliate the Lord God who is eternally to be praised. Amen.'"
"When will this come to an end?" thought Leo, and cast a defiant glance
of inquiry up at the pulpit to meet the pastor's eyes, which flamed
like swords beneath his grizzled brows.
"Then a great longing came over the heart of the king. He sank on his
knees and cried, 'Lord, Lord, hearken unto me in my wretchedness.' But
the Lord heard him not, and His wrath was written on the heavens in
letters of fire; and in a voice of thunder He cried down on the earth
in His wrath, so that the mountains shook, and the water-floods dried
up between their banks. And the king besought me, saying, 'Nathan,
Nathan, help me pray to the Lord God of Sabaoth, so that He turneth His
wrath away from me, and no more visiteth it on my head.' ... Thereupon
I sank on my knees, and prayed also. 'Lord, Lord, I have ever loved
him; as a little lad, he crouched between my knees to hear Thy Holy
Word, for the first time, from my lips. He was truthful and frank--and
his laugh was like a peal of bells. Thy sunshine lay on his curls, so
that he was the heart's idol of all who looked on him. Lord, Lord,
star-light was in his eyes, and innocence in his white soul---- He
promised to be a great light as Thy appointed ruler of the people, when
Thou didst anoint him, as Thy representative on earth, with the sacred
oil of the kingdom of Israel.'"
Leo stared down at the ground. He could no longer endure his old
tutor's fiery glance. The red tiles of the floor flashed before his
eyes like lakes of blood.
Not a sound broke the stillness in the crowded little church. The grim
power of this biblical eloquence stirred and affected all, even the
most simple-minded. On the dull, weather-beaten faces of the peasants
and labourers there was a look of intense and painful excitement. It
was as if every one felt that God, through the mouth of His minister,
was in this hour passing judgment on a sinner.
But no! how could they feel this? Why, even in the souls of those
sitting nearest to the judged man no suspicion had dawned as to whom
the thunderbolts were being hurled at. Grandmamma gazed up in
uncomprehending calm at the foaming zealot; Hertha measured him, her
head uplifted boldly, with disapproving eyes; Elly cast a gentle timid
glance from time to time at the parsonage pew, whence Kurt Brenckenberg
ogled her as much as the sacred place and the presence of the august
preacher in the pulpit would permit.
Johanna had flung herself on the hassock, and kept her face hidden in
her hands. She continued kneeling, or rather prostrating herself there,
motionless, save for the convulsive tremour which now, and again shook
her tall frame, as if she were suppressing a secret sob.
The old pastor, also, had thrown himself on his knees. In fervid
wrestling he flung up his hands towards Heaven, and tears streamed over
his swollen face. In a voice half strangled by weeping he continued:--
"'Hast Thou not seen him on horseback. Lord, Lord, my God, riding in
magnificence at the head of Thy troops, as he went forth to fight the
Amalekites, the helmet on his head flashing with gold and jewels, the
sword that he wielded for the greatness of Thy kingdom like lightning
in his hand---- Thou hast heard him playing on the harp, sweetly
singing to Thy praise and glory. Thou hast heard how he sang and played
on harp and psalter, to bring home the Ark of the Covenant, to build
Thee a house of splendour, of ivory wrought about with precious stones.
Hast Thou forgotten the good he hath done unto his tribe and the people
he hath reigned over? How wisely he filled the offices of state, and
rejoiced before Thee, O Lord. For the sake of the love Thou bore for
him, for the sake of the love he bears towards us, I, in the dust,
beseech Thee, O God, to pardon him. I will neither eat nor drink, and I
will go bareheaded at midday, and will walk with my naked soles on
red-hot bricks, till Thou hast bowed Thine ear to my petition, and
renewed Thy covenant with David, Thy servant and my master.'"
He ceased, and wiped the tears which were rolling into his mouth. Here
and there from the benches came a moan. One old woman whimpered, as if
she were being pricked by spears. Sobbing was general throughout the
congregation. Kurt Brenckenberg looked round on the display of emotion,
smiling and shrugging his shoulders, then made eyes at Elly. Meanwhile,
the moment had come for grandmamma to produce her smelling-bottle. Only
five minutes afterwards she was fast asleep.
Leo sat cowering in his seat. He felt as if a heavy cold stone rested
on his head, so that his neck involuntarily bent under the burden. His
breast seemed to contract. He fumbled nervously with the white
waistcoat which still gleamed as immaculately fresh as in the early
morning sunshine, but to his distorted vision there were now daubs of
yellow dirt upon it. He felt as if he must defend himself, or, at any
rate, speak to some human being. So he bent down to Elly and whispered,
with a faint smile--
"The old fellow makes it warm for us with his curses."
Elly looked at him for a moment with big, vacant eyes, and then turned
to her hymn-book again.
The pastor resumed his petition. His exhortations became more and more
fervid, his voice more and more broken with tears, and the whole time
his eyes never left Leo's face.
Even if it had not been so perfectly natural on this occasion for the
dependent parson to refer in his discourse to the powerful Church
patron and landowner, there could have been no manner of doubt for whom
his sermon of vengeance and penitence was intended. But outwardly, at
least, Leo was on his guard against betraying the horrid suspicion
which long since had become a certainty in his heart.
The words of the peasant orator, like waves of flame, rolled over him,
rising and falling with deadening regularity, till at last they filled
and oppressed his brain. Yet he still fought with all his might to
master the tormenting thoughts rising within him, to trample them down
with brutal scorn. But it was in vain. The pictures of his vanished
youth, which his whilom tutor skilfully interwove with his scriptural
phantasies, were too forcibly driven home for his relaxed soul to
resist them.
And then suddenly he started, as if a whip had lashed him. The word
"Jonathan" descended from overhead, uttered in a tone that was alike
caressing and threatening.
He knew why the old pastor leaned his bulky form far over the edge of
the pulpit, as if he would have delighted to fly at the unrepentant
sinner's throat, knew well why his fat fingers pointed at him, why the
plump, bull throat twisted and craned in demoniacal contortions.
The zealot had now played his last trump, and would have liked to
strengthen the effect with the power of his fists. But this he dared
not do.
Jonathan! The mere mention of that name had been sufficient to conjure
up before Leo's mental eye the vision of his friend in the _role_ of an
accusing angel. He gazed at him with his luminous eyes--he, the
betrayed and deceived--and, between the thunder claps of the
Brenckenberg lungs, his voice, sad and low, asked perpetually--
"Why hast thou done this thing?"
Then was heard a cry from a woman's mouth, a half-stifled gurgle of
fear.
Johanna had fainted. Enveloped in her heavy, black veil, she lay, a
motionless heap, on the red tiles in the shadow of the pew.