THE RETURN TO MUNICH.
HAMILTON’S journey to Munich proved more agreeable than the commencement
had promised. Hildegarde, the maid, Peppy, and Fritz were his
companions; the others occupied the second carriage and chose to be
together, as Fritz sapiently observed, in order to talk secrets about
Cressy’s wedding. Hildegarde exhibited her dislike to Hamilton so
artlessly that he could scarcely preserve a serious countenance, while
he endeavoured to overcome it. The averted head, short, careless
answers, and pertinacious discourse with brother Fritz, could not,
however, long resist his efforts. He was possessed of no inconsiderable
advantages, both of mind and manner, and of this he was, perhaps, but
too well aware, sometimes unnecessarily under-valuing the intellect of
others, while he indulged in a vein of satire most displeasing when it
became evident. Hildegarde had noticed this in his intercourse with her
sister, and was at first extremely guarded in her answers; but his
manner was so unconstrained, his account of himself and his ideas so
amusing and simple, that at length she also became communicative, and
unconsciously displayed an extent of intellect for which Hamilton had
not been prepared—her acquirements were considerable for a girl of her
age, and she spoke with enthusiasm of the continuance of her studies
when she returned to Munich. Her father had quite an excellent library
of his own, which he had promised to let her use, and her mother
intended to subscribe to a circulating library, on condition that none
but French books should be sent for or read. On Hamilton’s inquiring
further, she said, with a slight blush, that she was extremely fond of
novels and poetry.
“Poetry!” he exclaimed, thrown off his guard; “poetry! I should have
imagined that more suited to your sister’s taste than yours.”
No sooner had the word “sister” passed his lips than he saw a sudden
change in the expression of his companion’s countenance; he had, in
fact, awakened a train of unpleasant reflections, rendered more
disagreeable by a feeling of self-reproach for previous forgetfulness.
Hildegarde retired from him as far as the limits of the carriage
permitted, looking out of the window, without noticing his remark, and
rendered all his attempts to renew the conversation abortive by entering
into a disquisition with her brother on the impropriety of bringing
snow-balls into the house in winter! With a smile, which Hildegarde
would perhaps have denominated a sneer, had she seen it, Hamilton leaned
back in the carriage, and was soon occupied in mental speculations on
the change which one word had been able to produce, although the cause
was by no means difficult to surmise. They did not speak again until
they entered the inn where they were to dine. Madame Rosenberg was his
companion in the afternoon, and so effectually did she contrive to
beguile the time with a history of herself and her family, that he was
actually sorry when, at a late hour in the evening, their journey ended,
and both carriages began somewhat tumultuously to pour forth their
contents.
The apartments were on the third story, and on bounding up the stairs to
them, Hamilton was received by Mr. Rosenberg with almost as much
cordiality as his future son-in-law, who had followed more slowly. A
good deal of calling and running, and dragging about of furniture
ensued, but at the end of an hour, or thereabouts, they were all
comfortably seated round a supper-table, which, although of the plainest
description, and lit by a couple of tallow candles in brass
candlesticks, more than satisfied Hamilton; and nothing could exceed the
pleasure with which he looked around him. The novelty of the situation,
and the realization of his wish to be domesticated in a private family,
aided, no doubt, considerably to produce this frame of mind, for he was,
by nature and education, fastidious; and had he not had an object in
view, it is more than probable that the extreme homeliness of the house
arrangements would have more disgusted than amused him. Madame Rosenberg
stood with a napkin pinned over the front of her dress while she carved
a large loin of veal, and distributed to each, beginning with her
husband, the portion which she judged sufficient for their supper; a
potato salad, which she had also prepared in their presence, with oil
and vinegar, was added; and Hildegarde and Crescenz carried around the
plates, to Hamilton’s surprise and, indeed, discomfort; it was in vain
he jumped up and offered to assist them. Madame Rosenberg begged him to
sit still, that Hildegarde would bring him all he wanted, and Crescenz,
as in duty bound, would see that the Major had every thing he required.
With a coyness which would have been graceful had it not been slightly
tinctured with affectation, Crescenz performed the required services,
Major Stultz declaring he had never in his life been so waited upon;
that she was a perfect Hebe, and ending by catching her hand and kissing
it passionately. Crescenz looked across the table, and on finding
Hamilton’s large dark eyes fixed upon her, drew back, and, behind the
chair of her lover, impatiently wiped the kiss, and with it some portion
of gravy and potato, which had probably adhered to his moustache, from
her fair hand. On again looking towards Hamilton, half expecting some
sign of approval, she found that he had turned to her father, and seemed
altogether to have forgotten her presence. With some indignation she
took her place at the table, and commenced her supper, internally vowing
never to bestow either a word or look more on him; and, if possible, to
convince him, without delay, of her extreme dislike to him. She listened
with apparent interest, while her mother and Major Stultz settled the
day but one after for their solemn betrothal, which was to give her the
name of bride, a title only used in Germany during the term of
engagement, and never after the ceremony of marriage has been performed.
Major Stultz rose to take leave, whispered a little while,
ostentatiously with Crescenz, and retired. Hamilton was accompanied by
the whole family when he took possession of the two rooms appropriated
to his use at the back of the house; they looked into another street,
and were accessible by a back staircase, which Madame Rosenberg informed
him was considered a great convenience for single gentlemen, especially
as she would give him a skeleton-key which would open the house-door and
admit him at all hours without the servants being obliged to sit up for
him. Crescenz scarcely answered when he wished her good-night, and he
divined pretty accurately what was passing in her mind. He was heartily
glad that she had adopted this line of conduct; was fully prepared to
believe in her indifference; in fact, he gave her more credit for
coquetry than she deserved, and determined in no way to interfere with
her good resolutions or Major Stultz in future.
The next morning was wholly occupied by a visit to his banker, the
library, securing a place for six months at the theatre, and purchasing
some toys for Fritz, Gustle, and Peppy. He reached home some time after
twelve o’clock, and found that they had waited dinner for him—Madame
Rosenberg delicately informing him of the fact by shouting from the
nursery-door—
“You may bring in the soup now, Wally, for Mr. Hamilton is come.”
As far as Mr. Hamilton was concerned, the soup might have remained in
the kitchen all day; he had not yet learned to eat ordinary German soup,
which, when not thickened into a “family broth,” very much resembled the
weak beef-tea decocted by careful housekeepers for invalids; he
therefore played with his spoon until the boiled beef, which invariably
succeeds, had made its appearance, and finished his repast with a piece
of _zwetschgen_ cake, which he found excellent, and much more easy to
eat than to pronounce. The whole family rose from table at the same
moment, and Hamilton was in the act of opening the door leading into the
drawing-room, when he heard Madame Rosenberg call out—
“Hildegarde, pick up Mr. Hamilton’s napkin; don’t you see it lying on
the floor?”
Hamilton sprang forward, raised, and threw it with a jerk across the
back of his chair, not clearly understanding what possible difference it
could make, and thinking Madame Rosenberg very unnecessarily particular.
His surprise was therefore great when he saw Hildegarde take the
crumpled towel and, having endeavoured to lay it in the original folds,
bind it with a piece of blue ribbon which had been placed on the table
beside him for the purpose.
“Mr. Smith told me that people did not generally use napkins in
England,” said Madame Rosenberg, sagaciously nodding her head.
“Not use napkins! you surely must have misunderstood him; perhaps he
said people did not use the same napkin twice!”
“Not use a napkin twice!” cried Madame Rosenberg. “If that were the case
I should have a pretty washing at the end of the three months! Rosenberg
gets but two a week, and has moustaches. I expect that you will be able
to manage, like the girls, with one.”
“I shall certainly cultivate a moustache forthwith, if it were only for
the purpose of getting the two napkins a week!” said Hamilton,
good-humouredly laughing as he left the room.
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