"I restrained myself, however, and, instead, rose from my seat, extended my hand to her, and said, 'I thank you for having learned to know and love her so.'
"Her hand lay in mine like that of a corpse. We did not venture far out into the lake, for it was already beginning to roughen. You know how quickly it breaks from the deepest calm to the wildest uproar; and a dark cloud, toward which our boatman from time to time cast a watchful glance, was even then appearing above the Savoyard mountains. Therefore, as we stepped out upon the rocks near the Castle of Chillon, and saw the first breakers with their narrow silvery crests surging against the shore, I proposed to return on foot. She regarded me with a look which strangely transformed her face, but which had still greater power over me than her usual gentle and kindly expression.
"'Do you fear the storm?'
"'Not for myself,' I said, 'I can swim like a fish. But it is my duty to bring you home in safety.'
"'I release you from that obligation. Whoever is to suffer, does not die. Come! Turn, the boat around.'
"'Very well,' said I, 'vogue la galère!'
"And then we pushed out through the angry, swelling waves, while the air about us grew ever darker, and the houses at Montreux gleamed above us in dazzling sunshine. Muffled thunder came from the peaks beyond, but as yet no drops fell. As we were then rowing, we would reach home in half an hour. No one spoke a word. She had drawn her veil half over her face. I could see only her pale mouth. Her lips were slightly parted, and I saw them quiver now and then, more from scorn than pain. Suddenly she arose and hurried over the seats to the stern, where the boatman sat at the rudder.
"'What are you going to do?' I cried.
"'Nothing wrong. I merely wish to relieve the boatman for a while. I understand how, perfectly well.'
"Before I could interfere, she had taken the rudder from the boy's hand and seated herself in his place. I was somewhat disturbed at this, as her voice sounded unnatural. But, in order to lose no time, I let her remain there, and redoubled my own exertions. In a short time, I saw that she had given the boat a direction which drove it into the very midst of the raging lake. Yet her delicate arms had so much strength that, in spite of my efforts, I could not turn the boat back again. Suddenly I realized that she was doing this with a clear purpose.
"'You are steering falsely,' I cried to her. 'I beg you, for God's sake, give up the rudder. We are in the very centre of the storm.'
"'Do you mean it?' she answered softly. 'I thought you had no fear. Only look at the beautiful waves. They do nothing unkind; they receive one in their arms more gently than mankind. Look, look! Could anything be merrier!'
"A large wave broke over us; we were instantly wet to the skin. The first sharp flash of lightning darted down from the black mountain-wall.
"I could not leave the oars; I bade the boy take the rudder again; he shrugged his shoulders, and pointed to the Countess. Undisturbed by everything about her, she was staring wildly into the distance. We were already so far from shore that the houses were scarcely distinguishable through the gray storm-twilight. Some action was imperative. Standing up, I motioned the boatman to take my oars, and strode, wavering and staggering, to the other end of the skiff. Her eyes met mine through the veil with a stubborn, threatening look.
"'Be reasonable!' I said in German; 'I shall not suffer this any longer. Give me the rudder, will you? Well then--' Seizing her hands with a quick movement, I pressed them so hard that she released the rudder. I held her thus for a moment, although I must have hurt her. She gave no sign of pain, but gazed steadily into my eyes with a look of hate or the deepest rage. Then her face changed; her month trembled; her eyes closed with an expression of unutterable misery and despair; as I freed her hands, she threw herself at my feet, and I heard a stifled sob and the words, 'Pardonnez-moi! Je suis une folle!'
"I seized the rudder, and, in my distress and bewilderment, could only whisper to her that she must control herself and rise again. In a few moments she was once more seated on the bench, but this time with averted face and bowed head. I did not speak to her again, for I was obliged to exert all my strength to bring the boat back into the right course, and to steer for the land. But the brief scene affected me so powerfully, that one thought was continually uppermost in my mind--what rapture it would have been, amid this wild upheaval of the elements, to clasp her close, and with her go to the bottom!
"The storm helped us, and we landed much sooner than I had expected. Springing out first, I offered to assist her, but she refused my aid and jumped out on the beach without help. She was trembling through and through in her wet clothes. I asked if she were ill, but she shook her head. Yet she took my arm as I accompanied her back to the house.
"My wife was standing on the balcony, and welcomed us cheerily. She had been greatly worried about us. She would come down and help her friend undress.
"'Oh, no, no!' cried the Countess, withdrawing her arm from mine, 'I need nothing, thank you--good-night!'
"Thereupon she hurried away from me, without so much as a backward glance or a wave of the hand. I followed slowly; I felt very much exhausted, and went upstairs still staggering from the motion of the boat. The storm was entirely over; a crimson sunset glow filled our room. My wife had already laid out dry clothing for me; she received me in her usual quietly affectionate manner and then left me alone, for I had to dress myself from head to feet. It did not occur to me that she said very little, and asked for no detailed account of our adventure in the boat. My own feelings were absorbed by my recent experience, and I changed my clothes mechanically, as if in a dream.
"Then I remembered the child. As I entered the other room, I saw the little one sleeping in an arm-chair near the open window. My wife whispered to me that she had given her some medicine, which had caused her to fall asleep during the reading. I might go to dinner alone; she herself had no appetite, and would content herself with a cup of tea.
"So I went down, although I also would have preferred to remain away from the table. I had no wish to sit alone opposite Lucile. But this ordeal was spared me. She too remained in her chamber. I did not speak a word during the lengthy dinner. I usually smoked my after-dinner cigar in the garden. By doing so I did not separate myself from the women, but could chat back and forth with them; for though of late both had been together, the Countess usually sat at her window or on the terrace, and my wife on the balcony above. Tonight, balcony and terrace were empty, and I soon withdrew to the most remote part of the garden.
"I would lie if I should say that I had seriously considered my condition. I endured it that was all. I had a definite feeling that things could not remain so; that something must happen, be decided, or expressed, if I were not to be stifled by the suppression. But what the something would be I could not imagine. My cigar had long gone out; yet I remained on the parapet of the little pavilion and gazed out over the dusky surface of the lake, which appeared like some vast, metallic mirror framed in black mountains. Not till the first stars began to glimmer forth could I decide to return to the house. For the first time, the thought of meeting my wife was painful to me. Therefore it was an actual relief when, knocking gently at her door, I heard instead of 'Come in!' the whispered request not to enter then; she had just put the little one to bed and did not wish to disturb her. She bade me good-night. So for the present I was alone with my troubled soul.
"I lighted the lamp and attempted to read. The letters danced before my eyes. I took up my wife's portfolio and looked at her drawings leaf by leaf; but when I came to the portrait sketch I closed the folio hastily, as if I had caught myself entering upon forbidden paths. Then, for a long while, I sat perfectly passive before my writing-table with my head resting on my hand, and sank ever deeper into an abyss of hopeless wishes, sorrows, and self-reproaches.
"By and by the door was opened softly, and my wife entered. She had on her night-cap, but was otherwise completely dressed. Evidently in the act of going to bed she had suddenly resolved on something else.
"Her face was unusually pale; her beautiful eyes glistened strangely as if a slight shower of tears had passed over them. A certain air of timidity made her seem ten years younger, indeed, almost girlish. I had never felt so clearly what a treasure she was to me.
"'I shall not trouble you long,' she said, 'but I must talk with you. Perhaps we shall both sleep better.'
"She seated herself with her back toward the open balcony-door.
"'Shall I close the window?' I asked.
"'Why? It is nothing secret. I could say it as well before a third person. It has been clear and comprehensible to you yourself for a long time.'
"'What?' I asked, looking past her out into the night.
"'That you love her. One can see it easily enough. And she too is no longer an inexperienced child. I would only like to know if you have told her, and how she received it.'
"I sat before her as if in a spiritual swoon, or as when one dreams of being almost naked in a gorgeous company, and would perish for shame.
"'How can you imagine----' I stammered.
"'It has not been easy for me,' she continued with a sad smile; 'but it will not be otherwise, because I wish it so. I saw it coming, and had time enough to become used to it, if it is ever possible to accustom one's self to certain experiences. It is always best not to close the eyes and seal the lips when people love each other. And you love me yet, I know, in spite of everything.'
"'Thank you for those words!' I exclaimed, and rushed to take her in my arms. But she repelled me with gentle firmness.
"'No, stay there,' she said; 'we will talk it over calmly. I am no heroine, and this discussion is very hard for me. But tell me.'
"I assured her, on my honor, that no word had passed my lips which could have betrayed the state of my feelings. Then I told her, even to the smallest detail, all that had happened on the lake that day, and also everything which I had felt.
"'I suspected something of the sort,' she replied quietly. 'She avoided my eye, and you--you had no thought for our child. It is a passion; that we cannot hide from ourselves. You will not think me so childish as to surrender to a miserable jealousy, overwhelm you with reproaches, or make any scene which might show our friend how much harm she has done me. Can I blame you for loving her? She is so lovable, that I myself, even yet, love her as an only sister. It does not surprise me. I knew it at the first sight of her charming face. If, in spite of that, I did nothing to keep her away from us, indeed, rather brought her into closer intimacy, it was because I have always considered that old proverb--'Out of sight, out of mind--' perfectly false. No, the absent are preferred to all present people; our hearts idealize them; love and longing grow with separation. I hoped that the first witchery would be paled and effaced by frequent meeting. It has certainly happened otherwise, and the future is very dark to me.'
"'Let us go away!' I said. 'We could pack this evening and go to Lausanne tomorrow at dawn. I promise you, this sickness will leave my blood with change of air.'
"She shook her head gently.
"'Out of sight,inmind,' she said. 'Yes, even if it were only a whim; you a light-minded, fickle-hearted man, and she a pretty theatre princess. But consider how everything about her touches you--her unhappiness, her loneliness, the nobility of her whole character, and her music. At the first sound of a violin you would live it all over again. No, my dear friend, we dare not flee, and I dare not appear cowardly in your eyes. I am not so. I know that we are too firmly united to be parted by any power whatever. But I am not so high-minded that I can share you with another. I would rather die!'
"We sat facing each other in sorrowful silence. I felt that any word, any assurance of my good faith, would be trivial, a desecration of the situation which she regarded so purely and nobly. At length she arose.
"'I feel much better now,' she said, smiling with an indescribably brave and beautiful expression. 'Do not think any more about it. Good counsel comes in the night. But promise that you will keep your confidence in me, and that you will never hide anything for fear of hurting me. The concealment itself would pain me. Are we not human, and therefore poor creatures unable to master our own hearts? No one is responsible for his inclinations, but only for his deeds. And you, I know, will never do anything which could really divide us. Good-night!'
"She gave me her hand. I wanted to take the noble woman in my arms; but, retreating, she bade me farewell with her eyes, and disappeared into her room.
"You can imagine that I fell asleep late. But this time it was not because of the fever of an unreasoning, godless passion, like that which had kept me dreamily half-awake for so many nights. The clear, quiet words which I had just heard dropped upon my burning wound like a powerful balsam. I felt myself already in a sort of convalescence, because of whose great charm I could not sleep. I could scarcely conceive how any other woman than my own wife could ever have gained power over me. More than once I longed to steal into her chamber, kneel by her bedside, and, if she awoke, declare my love to her. But I was forced to remember that she had pushed me away, and that my warmest protestations might perhaps find no belief. Thinking thus, I finally fell asleep.
"I awoke before sunrise. You know that, on that shore, it is day some time before the sun appears above the Dent-du-Midi. Downstairs, all was already awake and astir. In the neighboring room nothing was moving. She, too, did not close her eyes till late, and needs the morning sleep, thought I.
"But I myself felt impelled to go out. I dressed noiselessly and stepped softly down stairs. I longed for a bath in the lake; the blood was burning in my veins. As I came down and approached her door, I saw that it stood ajar; and within, seated upon a chair in the middle of the room, and surrounded by locked trunks, I saw Lucile herself, her bill and its amount in gold lying on the table before her.
"Involuntarily I stood still. At the same instant she glanced up and recognized me. I crossed the threshold in intense excitement.
"'You intend to go away, Countess?' I exclaimed; 'why this sudden decision?'
"'My brother telegraphed for me last evening,' she said hurriedly, without looking at me. 'He is worried about the affair with the Count, which I did not conceal from him. He wishes me to come at once to Paris--he is perfectly right--it is best in every respect--'
"She stopped and bent over a small satchel in her lap. I went to the piano and lingered some music lying on it, merely to make a noise. If it remained so still, I feared that she would hear my heart beat. I could not speak a word.
"'Remember me to your wife,' I heard her say. 'It is so early--she must be asleep--I will not disturb her to say good-by. I shall write to her from Paris--meanwhile, tell her--'
"She faltered again. Her voice sounded so timid and humble, she was so perfect a picture of contrition and helplessness as she sat there, afraid to look up, that I could not bear to let her suffer alone.
"I turned quickly toward her.
"'Shall we seek to deceive each other at this hour?' I said. 'It is generous of you, but it shames me too much. I know why you wish to leave us so suddenly; your brother has nothing to do with it; no, there shall be no falsehood between us. I alone drive you away. You know that I love you passionately. Listen to me patiently; I shall say nothing unworthy of either of us. We three know it, therefore we can no longer remain together. No one has been to blame. You esteem my wife too highly, and me also--I know that you are my friend--to wish to bring any trouble into our lives. Nothing is changed between my wife and me, we live for each other as always before; but you are right, one should not presume on such good fortune, and in time, even with the purest intentions--'
"I do not know what more I said. I was looking down at her, and I can see her head before me even yet, the narrow white part in the curly, blue-black hair, and at the neck, the simple, heavy knot with a silver pin. I saw that her bosom heaved painfully, and that the small hands on the satchel trembled slightly. But I could not see her face.
"Suddenly she looked up, and her eyes as they met mine were full of gratitude, but streaming with tears.
"'Lucile!' I cried, and falling on my knees before her, I drew her head down with my hands. 'Farewell!' I stammered. She did not speak. I pressed my lips to both her eyes, then tore myself away and fled from the room. I hastened out of the house, down the nearest street, and up the steep road toward Montreux. About half way there was a bench standing against a vineyard wall. Halting there, I remained seated for awhile with my eyes closed, in that stupefied state between pain and pleasure, which usually comes to one who has done his duty at the cost of a deep heart's need, or has renounced forbidden fruit.
"The morning remained sunless; a strong south wind wrapped the Savoyard mountains in mist, and at length a slight rain began to fall. Looking around, I saw the steamer which had landed at Vernex already well on its way toward Vevey. I vainly strained my eyes to discover, among the figures wrapped in rain-cloaks on the forward deck, her who was leaving me forever. Then I slowly retraced my steps to the house, intending to tell my wife of what had happened. But, first, I could not resist entering the small salon below, for the door was still open.
"The traces of a hasty departure were still visible--torn bills, flowers withered and scattered, and on the piano-stool a single sheet of music torn through the centre. I picked it up. It was the first music I had heard from the little piano, that prelude through which we had learned to know each other--Galeotto fu il libro! It was a sorrowful hour indeed when she vented her defiance and misery on the innocent music. I carefully pocketed it.
"Then I went upstairs. Still no sound from my wife's sleeping-room. Finally I knocked softly at the door, and when no one answered, entered the room. Neither mother nor child were to be seen; the windows were open; hats and wraps had disappeared.
"I do not know why this seemed so strange to me. Nothing was more natural than that they should start on their morning walk when they failed to find me. I called the chambermaid; she had seen my wife and child going in the direction of Chillon; she had received no message for me. As it had begun to rain, I imagined they would soon return, and decided to wait for them. But I could not endure this half an hour.
"I strode down the street which, following the shore, between houses and vineyards, leads to Chillon. At every bend in the road I expected to see them. Each time I was disappointed. Finally reaching the isle of Chillon, I asked the guard on the bridge if a lady and child had gone into the castle. Excepting a few Englishmen, there had been no visitors during the whole morning. I shall not attempt to describe my feelings at this information. Immediately turning about, I returned in half the usual time. Drenched, exhausted, and feverishly excited, I once more reached the house.
"Dinner-time was past, and they had not arrived.
"For the time being I was incapable of going out and renewing my search for the fugitives. I searched her chamber and my own, her desk, each of her trunks and boxes, in the hope--or rather in the fear--of finding a note which might give some clue to this mysterious disappearance. I found nothing. That completely disheartened me. I stretched myself on a sofa, and for a full hour was tormented by the most incredibly horrible fancies, and suffered the bitterest distress in my poor soul, a purgatory wherein I richly expiated my sins.
"At length I arose.
"It was about two o'clock, and the rain was lighter. Although I felt lame and exhausted, I nevertheless resolved to go out again and search in the direction of Montreux, where she had often sketched. Perhaps the rain had surprised her there, and for the child's sake she had taken shelter under some hospitable roof until the rain should cease.
"Just as I was ready to go, the door opened, and a man in a coachman's blouse entered. He asked my name, and gave me a note. She wrote from Vevey, whence the man had just come in his wagon. She had suddenly decided that morning to carry out her plan, and visit the principal of thepensionwhere she had lived as a girl. She begged me to excuse her for not informing me before. She would tell me about it when she saw me. She meant to remain there for the night; the room which she had formerly occupied was empty, and she wished to sleep once more in the bed where she had dreamed her girlish dreams, and to show the child all the places which were dear to her in her youth. She would return next day.
"While I was reading, the messenger related in hispatoisa rambling story about a Fräulein from thepensionwhom he was obliged to take to Vevey, and about the strange lady who had given him the note just as he was harnessing; and now he must go. I listened with little attention, gave the man his fee, and was once more alone.
"I could not believe it had happened so accidentally. I recognized a little stratagem of my wife's, a ruse to make me feel what it meant when she failed me. 'Out of sight, in mind' was indeed her maxim. She proved it only too cruelly.
"I did not wish to prolong my penance unnecessarily. It was two hours before another steamer left. The railroad was then only a subject for conversation. Little time would be gained by taking a carriage, and I knew that the slow movement would madden me.
"To be brief, I arrived in Vevey about seven o'clock, and was at once driven to thepension. They sent me into the garden. It had become a perfectly clear and beautiful evening, and although the sun had long since set, the light was still so strong that one could read out-of-doors. I saw the fugitives in the distance. My dear child ran to meet me with a cry of joy, and threw herself as impetuously about my neck as if she suspected what suffering the separation had caused me. My wife approached more slowly, for she was walking with the old directress; but her face wore a most loving expression, and she blushed slightly, as if ashamed of being caught in a trick. She presented me to her old friend, an excellent little spinster with snow-white hair, merry black eyes, and an obstinately black and visible mustache. I went the rounds of the house and garden, saw all the historical places, and, finally, my wife's narrow, neat little room, where a bed for the child had just been made on the sofa. It was then vacation, and most of the scholars were visiting their parents. I was invited to dine; but although we remained by ourselves and chatted about many things, what had taken place in the morning was not once mentioned. When I departed at nine o'clock, intending to spend the night in a hotel, my wife pressed my hand warmly, yet, at the same time, with a look which forbade any further tenderness--I remained in uncertainty whether out of respect for the half-cloister-like house-customs or from another reason.
"I brooded over it for a time. But I was so extremely tired by my hard day, that I fell asleep almost instantly in my cheerless hotel room, and was awakened by the morning sun.
"We took a carriage to return to Vernex. Since our little daughter sat opposite us, any expression of deep feeling was of course impossible. On arriving at the house, the child at once ran out into the garden with a playfellow. We two ascended the stairs, passing our friend's empty apartment.
"'I have regards for you,' I said; 'she went away early yesterday morning. She will write to you from Paris.'
"My wife looked at me with a charming smile, half shy and half roguish.
"'I too have a greeting for you,' she said; 'at any rate, the last hand-clasp, after we had embraced three times, was certainly intended for you. But the letter from Paris will be omitted. We made no arrangements for a correspondence. Yes,' she continued, as I looked wonderingly at her, 'I do not have fine ears in vain. I heard very plainly how my lord and master paid his morning call below, and knew from the unusual stir and movement that her departure was decided upon. I wished to accompany her a little distance. Why should we part so silently and secretly? Did we think unkindly of each other? I, at least, was not vexed because she found you lovable; she shared that weakness with me. And how could she help it that I had met you first? For a moment I even thought of begging her to remain. But that would have been a foolish challenge to fate. But I sat by her side as far as Vevey, and we explained ourselves as well as we could without calling things by name. Are you satisfied with me?'
"She held out her hand. I took it somewhat hesitatingly. 'If you were only satisfied with me!' I exclaimed. 'I found her miserably unhappy, as if she had done something for which she could never forgive herself. It seemed unknightly to let her believe that I was cold to her feeling. So I expressed myself, and truly, called things by their right names. Indeed, at the last, I kissed her on both eyes, and she suffered it. This is all I have on my conscience.'
"'It is little--and yet, quite enough,' she replied softly; 'let us speak of it no more.'
"And so it was. Indeed, I not only ceased to speak of her, but in an unexpectedly short time forgot to think of her. Many things aided me in this. I was hastily called home by a letter from my inspector, for my presence on the estate had become imperative. Then came an early winter which brought me many cares, since I was occupied with the purchase of a small neighboring estate. In these cares of house and field, my wife, with her prudent forethought and encouraging cheerfulness, was of the greatest assistance, and no one, seeing us together, would have suspected any change in our admirably sympathetic life. And yet there was a change.
"A sword lay between us, invisible, but not unfelt.
"At first I bore it calmly, when she quietly but firmly resisted any show of tenderness on my part. In other ways she was not cold or distant towards me; in fact, her loving care increased, and she constantly endeavored to fulfill even my unexpressed wishes. But a certain shy reserve never left her. When I finally asked if my presence was distasteful to her, or if she wished to punish me by denying these innocent caresses, she shook her head earnestly and blushed like a girl.
"'I am not sure that you will understand me,' she said. 'But it seems to me as if we were never alone, as if some one else were looking in on our privacy, and even you--it seems as if you saw me and another at the same time. Let us wait awhile. We shall somehow succeed in being alone again.'
"The winter and part of the summer passed by. The letter from Paris did not come. Politics were added to my usual occupations, and my head was full of symbols and party programmes. When, now and then, I had time to observe my inner self, I found only one of the two heart-chambers occupied, and that one filled with the most ardent love. The other was as empty and musty as a room which has not been aired or opened to the sun for a long time. On the wall hung a picture whose frame was dusty and whose colors were faded.
"I was scarcely surprised that this had happened so quickly. In the strange second courtship in which I was living with my wife, my passionate nature was completely engrossed by distress at our estrangement. But I knew that she was not to be won 'with prayers, and with whinings, and with self-exalting pains.' Perhaps another dream will come to your aid, thought I. The transformation occurred in the daytime, however.
"One morning we were sitting at breakfast alone, for the child had a study hour with the pastor. Among the papers which we were looking over was a French one, which a neighbor received and shared with us. I was glancing mechanically down the columns, when my eyes suddenly fastened on a name.
"'Look!' said I; 'at length we have the explanation of the missing Parisian letter. Have you read it?'
"She looked at me searchingly, but did not reply.
"'In court circles they are talking of the betrothal of the Duke of C. to the beautiful Countess Lucile of ----, who, as is well known, enjoys the intimacy of the imperial court, and whose husband met such a sad end three months ago after a great loss in play at Monaco. They say the empress has given the bride a magnificent ornament, and so on. I own,' I added, 'that no news has given me greater pleasure for a long time. Poor Lucile! She certainly deserved imperial reparation for her sorrowful youth.'
"My wife still remained silent. Then, rising, she came and threw her arms around me, and kissed me on both cheeks. 'I have known it since yesterday,' she said. 'Will you believe that I was weak enough to fear how you might receive it?'
"'Oh, child,' I said, 'you have always seen ghosts. Will you now believe that we are alone?'
"From that day there was never a shadow between us. Our happiness, like every other real happiness, was never exhausted. Our motto might have been those beautiful words:
"'The more I give to thee,The more I have, for both are infinite.'
"'The more I give to thee,
The more I have, for both are infinite.'
"And when the end came--after three short years--the effect was immeasurable, as in all true endings. But of that I cannot speak."
He stood up. Just then the clock struck one.
"I have detained you a long time," he said; "Now I shall take you home by the shortest way. You will be wet through."
In fact, a light, warm rain was beginning to fall.
"And do you know nothing more about the Countess?" I asked. "I confess, her hasty marriage touches me strangely. Perhaps she wished to end all hopeless longings."
"You wrong her," he said; "there is something more to be told. I myself thought that, but must humbly apologize for it. You know that when I became a widower I could find no rest anywhere. I leased my estates, and took my daughter to that excellent dame at Vevey, who had been such a true friend to her mother. People often congratulated me upon possessing in the child a perfect likeness of the mother. But this resemblance affected me peculiarly. I was pained that she should resemble her mother physically, without showing a trace of spiritual likeness. She was much like me, and had my love of music. But this did not make me happy; indeed, rather sharpened my pain; and it is only recently that I have been able to recognize and enjoy the many good and lovable traits which she possesses.
"Only by continual movement, by ceaseless journeying from place to place, could I conquer my uneasiness. I had been a homeless and joyless man for nearly two years, and had advanced to the limits of the thirties. I had tried occasionally, from a sense of duty, to interest myself in business. I scarcely need to say that I had replied with a mere shrug of the shoulders whenever solicitous friends, especially women, urged me to a second marriage.
"It happened one autumn day that, much against my will, I was obliged to stop in Switzerland and look after one of my estates which was to have a new tenant. After staying for several weeks in Engelberg, I came down the road to Stansstad on a most beautiful, sunshiny day, to cross the lake to Luzerne.
"About half way down there is a pleasant spot under magnificent walnut-trees, where the wagons coming up from the valley usually stop for a quarter of an hour to breathe their horses. As I reached the first houses I saw a carriage stop in front of the inn, and two ladies presently alight from it. One of them, dressed entirely in black, attracted my attention by her graceful bearing. She had already vanished into the house, when I suddenly remembered who it was that had carried herself so. A slight depression fell upon me. But I at once determined to pass on without attempting to confirm my suspicions.
"As my light open wagon was rolling by the inn, a face only too well known to me looked from an upper window. She recognized me at once; I saw it by the startled way in which she drew back, as if a phantom from some long-buried past had suddenly risen before her. In the next instant she controlled herself sufficiently to bow to me. There was nothing else to do. I stopped and hastened to her.
"She met me perfectly unchanged; her beauty was only heightened by an additional fulness; her cheeks, with their ivory color, were slightly flushed from the excitement of this meeting.
"She took my hand in both of hers and pressed it warmly, as if I were an old friend.
"'I know everything about you,' she said; 'I sorrowed with you, and how deeply! Although you did not know. I tried several times to write--but the words always failed me.'
"At first I could say nothing in reply. I felt with too much consternation that her power over me was as strong as in those first days. The tones of her voice; her dark, often passionately burning eyes; the beautiful lips that seemed to have forgotten to smile; the whole witchery of long ago was again active. We walked up and down the empty room; her companion did not appear. I could hardly preserve a tolerable composure.
"Instead of personal things, I spoke about her journey, and learned that she was to remain a week or two in Engelberg. Her nerves were unstrung; she suffered from insomnia. Then her brother was to come for her, as she had decided to accompany him to his embassy at Madrid.
"'And your husband?' I asked carelessly. She looked at me distantly, almost reproachfully. 'He has not been among the living for some years,' she said in a monotone; 'I thought you knew it. Were not the sad circumstances of his suicide at Monaco in all the papers?'
"'Certainly,' I replied; 'but I read of a new marriage--'
"'It was a foolish rumor,' she said, staring gloomily at the ground; 'I would never have left my brother to play arôlein the farce of the Second Empire. Could you really believe that of me?'
"I was unable to answer. A storm was raging in me which swept away all power of thought. She was free, and I? Was I still bound? How was it that her power over me died in the very moment when I might have yielded without hesitation? I saw the beautiful, once-loved woman near me; it seemed as if I had but to hold out my arms and take her, and--my arms hung heavily at my sides. Did a sword lie between us then, as before between my beloved wife and me? While we were standing silently side by side near the window, gazing down into the glorious valley, my mind became calm and clear. I realized distinctly and sadly that if I now offered her half of my heart I should act immorally. Strangely enough, these words sounded always in my ears, 'She sleeps, that we may be happy;' and even while I felt all the magic of her warm, breathing life, a cold shudder ran through me, as if a corpse were standing near, a past far mightier than the most warm-blooded present.
"Out of sight is indeedinmind.
"She must have perceived my feeling. She too was silent, and I saw her bosom heaving painfully. She asked about my daughter, but evidently did not hear my answer. An intense pity seized me as I looked at her--the beautiful, noble, unhappy woman, with so long a life before her still and so little hope of happiness. Was it a foolish, unreal fear that prevented me from taking her in my arms? Do you believe that I could possibly have been happy with her? Who can know how the years will change one! But at that time it would have been a lie and a crime.
"The companion came with a glass of milk. Lucile drank a little and returned the glass with a gesture of aversion. 'I am no longer thirsty,' she said; 'is the carriage ready?'
"I offered my arm to escort her down. On the stairs she stopped an instant.
"'Do you play much now?' she asked.
"'I have not touched the violin since I became a widower,' I replied. 'Music is a pleasure only when one is cheerful and sociable. In solitude it revives all buried sorrows.'
"'Yes,' she said, 'it does, and one is grateful for it. There are people so poor that their only possessions consist of old griefs, without which they could not live. They remind one that there was once a time when the heart was living, for only a living heart can feel misery. You have the advantage of me in not feeling this truth.'
"I felt her hand trembling on my arm. 'Lucile!' I cried, pressing her arm to me. Who knows what might have happened then if, her pride being suddenly roused, she had not drawn away from me and hastened down the remaining steps alone. Before I could reach her she was seated in the carriage.
"'Farewell! Remember me to your daughter. And--no! I was about to sayAu revoir!But we shall probably never meet again.'
"She extended her hand to me from the carriage with a look that hurt me, for it seemed to ask whether I had either hope or desire to see her again. I bent over the small, white hand, and kissed it. Then the horses started, and I stood alone in the sunny street, until her veil, fluttering in the fresh mountain breeze, vanished from my sight."
It was a few years after the French war. The fall review had incidentally brought together again a number of young officers who had earned their iron crosses in the array of the Loire, and they had invited good comrades from other regiments to join them and celebrate the reunion from an inexhaustible bowl. Midnight was past. The talk, which for some time had concerned personal recollections and experiences, had taken a thoughtful turn and was becoming profound. It was impossible to realize how many were absent without touching on the everlasting riddle of human life. Besides, the horrible death of a popular young hero, who had fallen into the hands of the Franc-tireurs, and been killed in the most revolting manner, and the consequent destruction of a treasure of brilliant gifts and talents, hopes and promises--had brought again to the front the old problem, whether universal destiny and the fate of the individual will be according to our idea of justice; or whether the individual's weal or woe will be quietly subordinated to the vast, mysterious design of the universe. All the well-known reasons for and against a providence ruling morally and judging righteously, as human beings conceive it, were discussed again and again; and at length the oldest and most distinguished of the young soldiers formulated, from the animated argument, this result:--that even the most enthusiastic optimist, in face of the crying horrors to which poor humanity is exposed, cannot prove the existence of a compensating justice on earth; indeed, can only save his belief in a righteous God by hoping for a world to come.
"But will donkeys go to heaven, too?" suddenly asked a calm, rich voice from a quiet corner.
For a moment all were silent. Then followed an outburst of gay laughter, agreeably enlivening to the majority, who were tired of the philosophical talk.
"Hear! hear!" cried some.
"One will not be able to understand his own speech at doomsday if all the resurrected donkeys bray to one another," said a lively young captain. "Although, Eugene, if the sainted Antonius's pig is in heaven--"
"And so many pious sheep!" another broke in.
"You forget that the question is long since decided," said a third; "one has only to read Voltaire's 'Pucelle' in so many cantos!"
"Were you merely joking, Eugene?" then asked the senior president, who had not joined in the laugh, "or was the question seriously meant, because it is certainly not yet decided whether or no an immortal soul lives in animals also?"
The person thus addressed was a young man about thirty years of age, the only one at the banquet who wore civilian's dress. A severe wound had forced him to give up a military career. Since then he had lived on his small estate, more occupied with the study of military science than with the tilling of his fields. He had come to the city on the occasion of the review in order to see his old friends.
"The question," he now said very earnestly, "is really not my own, but is a quotation, whose brusque simplicity embarrassed me myself not long ago. A strange little story, certainly not a cheerful one, depends on it. But since we have again soared into speculations which are beyond jesting, it may perhaps be fitting if I tell where the quotation originated. I can hardly maintain that the story is calculated to throw any light on the dark problem."
"Only tell it," cried one after another.
"Who knows whether the donkey that you will ride before us may not finally open his mouth, like Balaam's prophetic ass, and teach us the system of the world."
Eugene shook his head with a peculiar smile, and began. "You know that I suffered from my wound during the entire winter of '71 and '72, and could only limp around with a cane. When spring came, I surrendered myself to the care of my married sister. My brother-in-law's manor is surrounded by endless pine forests, in which I was to take air baths. Whatever I gained in physical strength, as I wandered about each day in those lonely thickets, or lay lazily buried in cushions of deep, luxuriant moss, I lost again in my moral condition. Even in the hospital I had not seemed to myself such a miserable cripple as here. Everything about me was overflowing with life and strength; every old knot bore countless bright-green shoots; even a rotten stump made itself useful as barracks for a swarming army of ants--and I, condemned to detestable idleness at twenty-four--enough! I moped about half the time, and was on very bad terms with God and the world.
"About this time, too, I lived through a sickness which might have ended my brooding. The neighborhood is thinly populated; the people are very poor; the women frightfully ugly,--Bohemian types degenerated by crossing with the Saxons, pinched and rendered half savage through privation and suffering. But I was perfectly contented that nothing charming crossed my path. It would have made the consciousness of my invalidism still more painful. You know, indeed, how long it takes for the last trace of the typhoid poison, so paralyzing to all energy, to disappear from one's system. The North Sea was to do me this service.
"Well, for several weeks, like mad Roland, though somewhat more mildly, I roamed through pine and fir-covered ravines without making a shot, although a hunting-piece was slung at my back. It was truly, in spite of all world-griefs, a heavenly time; never have I had such intimate acquaintance with nature, never felt so vividly what is meant by 'our mother earth' and 'our father air.' But that does not belong here. I will come to the point.
"One afternoon I allowed myself to be lured farther than usual from the house by a most beautiful path winding among young woods, whose slender trees, scarcely taller than I, allowed the May sunlight to stream through unchecked. When I found myself entirely astray, I decided to strike through to the edge of the forest, in order to regain an open view. A gentle slope, sparsely covered with birches and berry-bushes, led upwards. Beyond, through the tall firs which enclosed the clearing like a fence, I could see blue mountain-tops shimmering in the distance, and knew that I might thence easily find my way. But as I came out of the forest, I realized for the first time how far I had wandered. From the forest edge the land sank by a tolerably steep slope to a plain; and far below lay a small town, well known to me on the map, but so distant from our estate, that in all my reconnoitring I had never seen it till now. I was startled when I realized where I was, for, with my lame leg, I could not possibly undertake to return on foot. But I thought I might obtain a team in the village.
"I seated myself on a newly-fallen trunk to rest a little before descending to the town. The land beneath me lay in the deep calm of afternoon; thin clouds of smoke drifting up from the chimneys of the old houses announced that the good housewives were making their coffee. The broad, level plain, gayly checkered with fields of promising, green crops, stretched beyond; while almost exactly half way between the forest-edge and the first houses, and bordered by a few bushes and elders, lay a great fish-pond, peculiarly dark in color, although the purest spring-heaven was mirrored therein. The ground about it was marshy, and it seemed as though all the water of the neighborhood flowed into the depression as into some monstrous cistern. I do not know why the black basin appeared so uncanny to me, for the birds nesting in the shrubbery on its banks flew over it continually with cheerful twitterings. But my gloomy humor drew nourishment just then from the most innocent sources.
"When I finally raised my eyes to look about for some smooth, gradually-descending path, I noticed at the right, scarcely a stone's throw from my seat, a forlorn, mean little house standing in shadow close by the roots of the foremost trees. The old, tumbled-down fence surrounding a bit of ground; the dove-cot, in which no living thing was stirring; the tiled roof, whose damages had been poorly repaired with shingles and stones from the fields--all looked desolate and dilapidated, but since a path must surely lead thence to the town, I arose and dragged myself slowly towards the hut.
"As soon as I perceived the extreme desolation of the old barracks, I gave up my conjecture that a lumberman dwelt there. All the mortar had fallen away from the wall on the weather side, and the rain must have had free entrance through the holes in the deeply sunken roof. The piece of land behind the crumbling fence, which in times past might have supported a little garden or a few vegetable beds, had become a waste rubbish heap, upon which a single black hen tripped about, excitedly scratching between the weeds and nettles for something eatable. The north side, turned towards the slope, had two small windows with broken panes; and in the middle, a door standing wide open. I glanced into the unattractive entrance. No human being was to be seen or heard. I was about to go back and follow a little foot-path which seemed to wind down into the valley, when I was startled, indeed, truly frightened, by a donkey's bray; for never in my life have I heard that odd cry given so passionately, and with such peculiarly mournful modulation, as at that moment.
"The cry of pain came from the other side of the house. As I turned the corner, I saw in the meadow, close to the wall, an idyllic group crouched in the young grass: an old woman, clothed in a torn jacket of flowered calico and a coarse woollen petticoat, and wearing wound about her head a gray handkerchief, from beneath which her black hair, thickly sprinkled with gray, hung down in disorder; and near her, stretched upon the ground, a young donkey with noticeably slender limbs, dark-edged ears, and a coat of silver-gray, adorned on the back with a black stripe extending to the head. It was a fine animal, an honor to its race, and it would certainly have taken a prize at any show. But I immediately perceived why the poor creature relieved its oppressed heart in so particularly doleful a manner. A hand's-breadth on its left shoulder-blade was disfigured by a foul wound; this the old woman was attempting to cover with wet bandages, although the wounded brute restively tried to prevent her merciful ministrations with kicks and stampings of its forelegs. A shallow bowl by the woman's side held some dark liquid, with which she saturated the rag in order to cool the wound. She quietly continued this operation as I approached her.
"'Good-morning, dame!' said I. She merely nodded her head wearily. Beginning to speak of the wound, I asked how it had been received, and what remedy she was using. No answer. It occurred to me that she did not understand German. But as I turned away, exclaiming half to myself, 'What a pity! Such a beautiful brute!' her gray eyes suddenly flashed so powerfully upon me from under her bushy, black brows, that the whole withered, leather-colored face seemed ten years younger.
"'Yes indeed, sir!' she said in notably pure German, with but a slight Bohemian accent. 'It is truly a pity, and Minka is certainly beautiful. If only you had seen her before she was hurt! She could jump about almost like a young horse, and her coat was like silk and velvet. Now, for seven months she has lain thus miserably on her belly, and if she gets up on her legs, how her knees bend, poor creature! Besides, what use is she? "Betty Lamitz," said the forest warder only yesterday, as he passed and saw the trouble I had with the brute--for now one must bring even its bit of fodder close to its muzzle--"you should have her killed," said he; "the skinner will give you a thaler for the hide." But no! said I; it's only a beast, but it shall have care like any other Christian being, or like an honest servant fallen sick in service! Yes, so I said. Whoa, whoa, Minka! don't roll about so! Look, sir, she lies on her back and rubs her wound all the time, so no plaster holds, and it spreads farther and farther. Whoa! Be still!'
"Then, fairly embracing the beast, she tried to quiet it, and keep it in its bed. Suddenly she released it, ran to a wooden well standing in shadow back of the house, and having filled a low pail from the old stone trough into which the water was trickling down, she thrust it under her charge's pink muzzle. Minka drank in long draughts, and her feverish excitement visibly abated. The old woman sat near her, looking on with great contentment, and seeming once more entirely oblivious to my presence.
"At length I repeated my inquiry as to the origin of the bad wound between the shoulder-blades. But the old woman again remained silent; she merely sighed, and scratched her lean arms with her withered lingers till white streaks stood up on the brown skin.
"'Yes, yes!' she said absently, after a long while--'such a poor female! What matters beauty against bad luck? And how she has worked, always cheerfully and willingly! I could load her as much as I wished, she never once kicked, or even shook her ears at me. To be sure, I have brought her up from her tenth day. She was a twin. The forester at Freithof had a she-ass that presented him one morning with Minka and her sister. "Would you like to have a handsome nursling, Mother Lamitz?" said he, just for a joke. Well, I held him to his word. He owed me a little gold for a piece of linen that I had woven for him. A couple of florins were still lacking, and for them I took the young ass. I had trouble enough, first in getting it home, and then in raising it, for milk was scarce with us. But we have never rued it. A hard worker, sir, this Minka! We have had to drag many things from the woods, berries and mushrooms down to market in summer, then our winter wood, and whatsoever else was needful. I--good heavens! I can trace all my bones, although I am barely fifty, and Hannah--well, she was still too weak. And look you, such a faithful beast, a god-send, our only help--to be so hurt and disgraced in its young years--oh!'
"'Dame,' said I, 'look at me! I too am still young, yet I limp through the world, and my food must be brought to me because I can no longer gain it by my own strength; and whoever gives a thaler formyhide is a fool and a spendthrift. Yet who knows, but that sometime we shall both prance gayly about once more.'
"I chatted in this strain for some time to cheer her, but, without heeding me, she stared fixedly at the wound. She had meanwhile covered it with a firm plaster, since the brute would no longer suffer the bathing.
"'Tell me once for all,' she suddenly commenced, and by the gleam of her eyes I saw that when young she must have been far from homely--'tell me once for all, sir, do you believe that donkeys go to heaven?'
"I laughed.
"Why do you ask that, mother?
"'I once asked our parson about it. He said it was a foolish question; that only Christian people go to heaven; and that animals have no immortal souls. "But, parson," said I, "if the great God is just and merciful, why doesn't He pity the beasts too, as human beings do if they are not scoundrels? For instance, why does Minka's sister live like a princess, have nothing to do but draw a little play-wagon in which the young masters take an occasional pleasure drive, always receive kind words and the best fodder, and even have a love-affair with the valley-miller's donkey? And our Minka, who has just as good a character, who wears herself out with work, and is often on her legs with a load for ten hours together, now has all four struck from under her, and if she should die to-morrow, what pleasure in life has she had? Is that just, parson? And if it is not sometime paid back to her there above--" But then he forbade me to speak, and said such blasphemy led straight to hell. You tell me, sir, do you know anything about it?'
"You can imagine that I did not have the most spirited expression, when the pistol was thus placed against my breast, and the explanation of the world-secret demanded of me. Fortunately, however, just at that moment a woman's clear voice began to sing within the house, and with it one heard a child's feeble crying, which the song was evidently intended to still.
"'Who is singing there, Mother Lamitz?' I asked.
"'Who should it be but Hannah?' she grumbled.
"'Your daughter? May I venture to look in at her?'
"The old woman did not reply; muttering to herself, she took the pail and carried it back to the well; then she rolled forward a wheelbarrow piled high with grass and weeds, and busied herself in giving handfuls to the sick beast, almost shoving the food into its mouth. I did not wait long for an expressed permission, but approached the house, and, after knocking, entered by the door at the left.
"A suffocating steam greeted me, mixed with the smell of some drying clothes, which hung across the room on a tightly stretched rope. I saw immediately that there were only a few miserable swaddling-clothes and baby-frocks, coarse and much patched.
"In one corner stood a great loom, thickly covered with dust; in the other, upon a heap of straw, distinguishable from the bed of an animal only by a woollen covering, sat a fair-haired young woman, holding a half naked babe at her breast. She herself had nothing on her body but a shirt, which had fallen far down on her shoulders, and a red woollen petticoat, which left her white feet visible to the ankles.
"As I entered, she gazed at me searchingly, and for an instant ceased her singing. She seemed to have expected someone else; but, seeing that I was an entire stranger, she at once recommenced her cradle-song, though somewhat more softly, apparently not at all disturbed because I had surprised her in the performance of a mother's most sacred duty, and in such incomplete attire.
"As she sang she occasionally smiled at me, showing the pretty teeth in her large mouth; and I noticed that she clasped the child closer to her bared breast, and tried to draw the shirt up over her shoulders. Therewith a slight redness tinged her round, white face, and her blue eyes assumed a half imploring, half simple and dreamily vacant, expression.
"I excused myself for intruding; her mother had allowed me to come in; I would immediately go out again if she wished. She hummed her song without appearing to notice me; but from time to time she would suddenly lift her eyes, as if to see whether I were still there; then bite her full, red under-lip; rock the child back and forth; and, with her bare feet in the straw, beat time to her song.
"The child, which was but a few months old, had drunk and cried itself to sleep. The cradle-song grew ever softer; at length the young mother, kneeling down, wrapped the little one, which lay before her like some rosy, waxen doll, in a great woollen shawl. In the corner near the pillow I observed a little couch made of old rags and tatters. On this the baby was gently and carefully laid, and, in spite of the heat, covered yet again.
"Then the mother, always as if entirely alone in the room, began to let down and rebraid her tangled, yellow hair. The rest of her toilet seemed to be perfectly satisfactory.
"Indeed, no elegant costume could have displayed the poor young woman's charming figure to more advantage. The face was too like the old woman's to be considered pretty. Yet in the coloring and youthful contour of that round little head lay a charm, which was not lessened even by an evident trace of absent-mindedness, or downright imbecility. I felt intense sympathy for the poor, half-foolish creature, singing her lullaby so contentedly in such pitiable deprivation of all usual nursery comforts.
"She did not answer any of my questions even by a gesture. Since they had plenty of wood and did not grudge it, the oven was heated almost to bursting; although the air without was mild enough, even here on the windy height. So I did not wait until she finished arranging her heavy braids, but laid a shining thaler on the edge of the loom, nodded kindly to the harmless creature, and left the room.
"I found the old woman no longer by her sick darling, but at the well, where she was cleaning a handful of turnips and cutting them into a pot.
"'Mother Lamitz,' said I, 'you have a very pretty daughter. But she would not speak a word to me. Is she always so silent with strangers?'
"The old woman contracted her brows and stared gloomily at the pot which she held between her knees. In this attitude she might have served an artist as model for a witch preparing some noxious potion.
"'Silent?' she asked after a pause. 'No, sir; it is not her tongue that is lacking. When she will, she can chatter like a starling. The lack is above. She was so even as a child. Well, it was not such a great shame. If she had had the best sense, would that have helped a poor, fatherless thing like her? Did it matter to me that I had all my five senses right? I was cheated in spite of them, and therefore I care not a whit whether the brat to which she has given life takes after her, as people say, or after me. Either way, the little Mary will sometime become a mother on the sly, as it came into the world on the sly. It is in the family, sir, it is in the family.'
"And then, after a pause, for I knew not what to say to this frank worldly wisdom--'Besides, the child will hardly grow old. Hannah treats it too foolishly. Indeed, reason has nothing to do with her actions. And when the winter comes, and we all must hunger--it is said, though, that God lets no sparrow fall from a roof without His will--I am curious to see whether He will trouble Himself about us four poor females up here.'
"Therewith she gazed pityingly at the donkey, which was now crouching quietly in its bedding. I could have laughed to see her so unconcernedly consider gray, long-eared Minka as the fourth in the family; but the horrible cold-bloodedness with which she spoke of her child and grandchild was not humorous.
"'You seem to care much more tenderly for the donkey than for your poor, little grandchild,' I said severely.
"She nodded her head calmly.
"'So it is,' she said; 'Minka needs me more. If I die to-day, she must come to a miserable end. Do you think Hannah would throw her even an armful of grass, although the poor beast can no longer seek it herself? No; she has no thought except for her baby, and beyond that, for the rascal who is its father. She waits for him every evening at sunset, although it is already a half year since he last crossed our threshold. And withal she is as happy as any one can wish to be, considers the dear God a good man, and lets her old mother do all the housework without any help. Why should I pity her or her brat? Both are already as if in heaven, and if it goes hard with them, and they must hunger and freeze, can they not make that good hereafter in Paradise? But Minka, look you, sir, has had no lover, and brought no young one into the world, and when she dies she will be thrown in the flaying-place, and on doomsday, when we other poor sinners gather our bones together, of her nothing at all will be left, and it will never be credited to her that she had a harder life than her twin sister. Look you, some other poor Christian mortal must pity the beasts if our Lord Jesus Himself cannot bring Himself to do it.'
"This logic allowed no reply. But I confess that the future of the little human being was more momentous to me, in spite of its immortal soul, than the question whether Minka would lose or not in the final distribution of justice. If to-morrow the only person among these 'four females' who had sound human sense should be struck by lightning, what would then become of the poor fool and her baby?
"'Does the father do nothing at all for the little one?' I asked at last. 'The child is as beautiful as if carved out of ivory, and it is by no means certain that it will become like the mother. Has he never shown himself again?'
"'He!' exclaimed the old woman, thrusting the knife with which she had been cleaning the turnips deep into the wooden well-spout. 'If I should drag him to justice, he would swear himself free, that he would, although he is the town-judge's own son. Do you think I did not see it in him, even the first time when he came into our little house to kindle his pipe at the hearth--so he said, the villain! He is unfortunately as pretty to look at as he is bad within, and the stupid thing, Hannah she was still innocent, and I could let her wander all day long in the woods alone with Minka, filling the two panniers with berries and mushrooms--she thought of no man then, and I--God knows how it came about! Just because she is so foolish and weak in her head, I imagined that no one would trouble about her. But she pleased the judge's son, and was herself instantly carried away with him. After that I had trouble enough with her. She had worked bravely till then in the house and garden, and no work was too hard for her. Now, of a sudden, half the day her hands in her lap, and if I began to scold she would smile at me like a child waking from a lovely dream. If I sent her to the woods, she would bring the baskets back to the house scarcely a quarter full. It was Minka's misfortune too. You cannot believe, sir, how the beast clung to Hannah; it had human sense, anyway more than Hannah, and realized that the smart fellow with the black mustache had nothing good in mind. It always ran after the stupid girl, and gave a loud bray to warn her. I saw everything well enough, but what could I do? Scoldings and warnings were useless; she did not understand. And one cannot shut up a grown woman, who will use force to get out. She would have climbed from the window or even the chimney to rush into the very arms of ruin. Well, and so it happened. But the worst of it was that Minka suffered for it too. One evening she followed the girl into the woods, and soon afterward came limping home alone, with the wound in her neck, groaning and crying like a human being. Hannah came back an hour later. I questioned her closely as to how the brute had received the wound. "Ha!" said she, laughing insolently, "she screamed all the time and crowded between us, although Frank tried to drive her back with blows; so he suddenly became angry, drew his knife, and gave her a thrust." I struck the shameless thing for laughing about it, and put salve on the wound. But Minka rolled on her back as if crazy, and would bear no bandage, and so it has grown worse with her every day, and with Hannah too. Well, at least she has had her way, and nothing much better could have happened to her. Who would take one like her for his honest wife? And if sometime she realizes that it is useless to wait for her lover, and becomes crazy with grief at his wickedness, then she has little wit to lose. Whereas Minka, sir, who is cleverer than many people, believe me, she lies for days pondering why good and bad are so unequally divided on the earth; why she has nothing but a ruined life, while her sister trots about elegant and happy; and why our good Lord did not arrange it so that donkeys might go to heaven, and obtain their reward for all the flaying and toiling, beating and kniving, they have to bear.'
"She uttered these last words with such violence that she was obliged to stop for breath. Then, brushing back the loose hairs at her neck, she tied her head-cloth more firmly, and took the pot of turnips on her arm.
"'I must go in, sir,' she said hoarsely, 'or I shall go to bed hungry. Do you know the town-judge and his fine son? It does not matter. He will not have to pay for what he did to my girl and to Minka until he stands before God's throne. And for the rest, why should his conscience prick him? She wished nothing better; indeed, we all wish nothing better; if we were not silly, you men could not be bad. So it will be as long as the world lasts. At doomsday I shall not complain of that, but I shall ask our Lord whether donkeys go to heaven too, of that you may be sure--of that you may certainly be sure!'
"She nodded her head vigorously, passed by without another look at me, and disappeared in the house.
"You can imagine that, as I descended the slope, passing the black water, and finally reaching the village, all that I had seen and heard continually pursued me. Even when I had secured a carriage at the inn, and was rolling along the highway towards my brother-in-law's house, the figure of the old woman, and especially that of her blonde daughter with the naked babe clasped to her breast, seemed actually before my eyes. It chanced that my driver was an elderly man, who could give trustworthy answers to my questions about the inmates of the little house on the hill. He remembered Betty Lamitz's sudden appearance there twenty years ago very well. Her own home was in a neighboring place, where, her mother having died without leaving any property, the parish refused to receive her. She was a servant in an aristocratic house in Prague, and behaved properly enough until one of the sons of the house, an officer home on a furlough, noticed her. She had been a fine-looking person even at thirty, in spite of her flat nose and broad cheeks, a maid with unusual eyes, and when she laughed--which to be sure she seldom did--she could cut out many younger women even then. But things simply went the usual way, in spite of her cleverness, and although she had always said she would never do as her own mother had done. Of course her master did not keep her in the house. He gave her a suitable sum of money, with which she bought the forsaken hill-house and the bit of garden plot, and since then, as she would not go into service again, perhaps could not, she had lived there and brought Hannah up, in perfect retirement. For the first few years the young count remembered her, and sent her something. After awhile he failed to do this, and she was obliged to struggle along by herself. She had done so; and certainly no one could accuse her of grief at her child's lack of reason.
"Then my driver spoke of the sad affair with the judge's son, against whom he expressed himself in very strong terms. Every one knew about it. But he was the only son of a most respectable family, and no one could expect him to make amends for the foolish mis-step by an honest marriage. A wild, insane thing! Why didn't the old woman watch her better? If he did a little something for the child, no one would blame him much for this youthful sin.
"I listened without entering into any discussion of the moral aspect of the case. In my heart--I know not why--I felt such intense sympathy for the poor creature, that if her betrayer had come in my way, I would have thrashed him with much pleasure.
"My first action, when I saw my people again, was to tell them of my experience, and induce my good sister to take some interest in the neglected young woman. She was true to her sympathetic nature. The next day she sent her 'Mamselle,' an experienced, elderly person, in a carriage to Mother Lamitz's hut, with a basket containing all sorts of good things--provisions for several weeks, baby-clothes, and several uncut dress pieces to provide for the winter. To this I added a trifle in cash, fully intending to go in person very soon, and see if this feeble attempt to make up the deficiencies of the world-system had been at all effectual.
"But I did not go. Our physician ordered me to take sea-baths earlier than I expected. I merely heard that our gifts were received by the old woman with but moderate thanks, and by the young mother with child-like exultation. Then I departed, remaining away the entire summer, and the inmates of that forest hut soon became of as little moment to me as any beggar into whose hat one tosses a groschen.