"'Then leave him to his punishment,Vengeance for ev'ry earthly sin is sent.'
"'Then leave him to his punishment,Vengeance for ev'ry earthly sin is sent.'
"You remember the reading? 'the sins of the parents upon the children unto the third and fourth generations'?"
He stood still. "I don't understand a single word you're saying, my dear friend. What? You sent by Balder--but do you not know that the conversation he had with you, or rather with the count, was the last that he ever held? And you told him--what? What, for God's sake?"
He had seized her hand and pressed it violently. "Toinette, speak, tell me all. What is done and cannot be undone will at least be more endurable if it is purged of all which the rude hand of malicious chance may have mingled with it. You've misunderstood me; I now learn this for the first time, and I have also misunderstood you. Speak, speak--what thread did death sever, that would have guided us out of the labyrinth into the right path?"
She shook her head. "Who knows? even if my message had reached you, you would not have solved the problem! Of what use would it be? Can a heart incapable of love become more lovable if you learn that it has very natural reasons for being contrary to nature? A whim, a fit of obstinacy, a childish caprice--a refractory character like Katharine the shrew is not hopeless, since we need not once for all make a cross against it and go our way. But the child of a forced love, the fruit of a girl's bartered life--what can be hoped for, what aid can avail in such a case?"
"And this--this is what I should have learned if my poor Balder had survived that day. Oh! eternal Gods!"
"Yes indeed," she nodded with a bitter smile. "I thought you would have taken pity on the poor monster and have borne with her for a time. I hoped so for three days. Then, as I said, I thought: 'he's right'--and came here with the old countess."
"Horrible!" he exclaimed, wiping his brow, on which drops of cold perspiration were standing. "And so I--none other than myself--blind and unsuspecting as I was--and your letter, which I did not understand--the three days respite--"
"Calm yourself, my friend. It's not your fault; the threads of fate were too delicately spun. Even if you had come, who knows whether I might not still be here? True, if I had known then, what I know now--"
"What, Toinette, what!"
She hesitated a moment, then with closed eyes and her delicate brows contracted in an expression almost threatening in its sternness, said slowly and softly: "That my womanly nature would some day awake, that the hour would come when, like every other lonely creature I should long for a happy love--and that I then should belong to a man, of whom my soul knows nothing, and who would force me to drain to the dregs the sorrowful cup that broke my mother's heart!" She sank down upon a moss covered stone beside the road, and buried her face in her hands.
Edwin stood before her; he did not feel the rain, which now began to fall in heavy drops, did not pick up her gloves, which had slipped from her lap and lay on the wet ground; he made no reply to little Jean's question whether he should close the carriage, except to wave the intruder away with his hand. All his thoughts were absorbed in the one emotion of pity he felt for the woman once so deeply loved, who across the gulf of years had suddenly once more approached so near him, as if naught had even come between them.
"My poor dear friend," he faltered at last, "be calm, compose yourself, you're no longer alone. I am here, I--" His voice died away. How false and powerless was everything he could say. Toinette suddenly rose, shook back her hair, as we do when reminded that we must hold up our heads, and said with a forced smile:
"I believe we're getting wet. The little discomforts of life have their use; they cause annoyance and compel a division even in the midst of great sorrow. Give me your arm again, and open the umbrella. Ten paces farther on is a beech wood, where the foliage is so thick that we might quietly await a deluge. To be sure, my velvet dress is ruined, and I'm not yet 'duchess' enough not to regret it. However, it can be replaced. If there were nothing else--but come, come, you're standing as still as a statue."
He mechanically obeyed, surprised at the sudden change in her expression, and they walked on a short distance farther. "Yes, indeed," she said as if to herself, "in other things too, I might take my present equals in rank for a pattern. It's very bad style to have any feelings at all, especially to speak of them, and to trouble old friends with them. But you must be lenient. I exhausted these aristocratic expedients long ago; pride is a weapon, but a two edged sword, as it were, a shield that pierces the arm with its sharp edges. Now my heart, which is not thoroughly aristocratic, has run away with me again. And for what do we have friends, except to abuse them? But we'll be sensible and talk of more cheerful things. Your friend Marquard, for instance, what do you really think of him? He has such contradictory traits of character, that he resembles people with one blue and one black eye, we never know which is of the right color. So he too in the same moment is grave and frivolous, honest and not to be trusted. A singular combination."
Edwin made no reply, he did not seem to have heard what she said. After a long pause, during which he had gazed intently into vacancy, he suddenly exclaimed: "And the child--your child? If your womanly nature awoke too late, were you not a mother soon enough to at least find consolation in that?"
"Oh! my friend," she replied, relapsing into her former tone, "these are strange, sad mysteries. This child--I might perhaps have been able to reconcile myself to the way in which I became its mother, but unfortunately it looked so much like its father that it reminded me with a thrill of horror, at what a price I had obtained it. Pray spare me the memory of the time when, each day, I asked myself whether I could endure to remain longer in this world! There are mothers who care little for their children and would rather dance or flirt, than be troubled with the charge of them. I--with my freshly aroused need of loving, of pressing something close to my heart--rose every day with the resolve to live only for the child; but when I approached its cradle and saw its delicate, cold, aristocratic little face, with the eyelids often half closed like its father's--I could not overcome my repugnance, could not hug and kiss it, rejoice in its innocent voice and baby ways. I sat beside it as if petrified, and it seemed as if I could read my doom in its features, as if the silent little mouth said: 'Mother; why have you done this, why have you sold yourself, profaned yourself without love? Now I shall atone for your sin, as you did for that of your mother, who at least did not commit it of her own free will.' And then, when it died, and I saw it lying before me in the coffin, with the haughty pale little lips distorted, the eyes so pitifully sunken--oh! my friend, it was strange that I did not fall lifeless beside it. Do you know how terrible it is, when a dead body seems to say: 'I've died to make room for you, we two cannot exist and breathe the same air?' No more! Oh! it drives me mad--even now, when I think of it for a single moment."
He felt how wearily she tottered on by his side, leaning heavily on his arm; for a moment it seemed as if she were unable to stand erect; her eyes closed, and her lips parted like one fainting. But the emotion soon passed away. She drew a long breath, paused and looked at him with a calm but sorrowful face.
"No doubt you remember," she began, "how on our excursion to Charlottenburg we were engaged in a similar grave conversation, and how I, in my inexperience, said it would not be difficult for a person to give up the business of life, if he could not pay his expenses or became totally bankrupt? You almost agreed, but adopted a different phraseology and replied: 'that when we could neither be useful nor give pleasure to ourselves or others, we might be permitted to leave our post.' Well, I've advanced successfully so far that, without boasting, I may be permitted to include myself among these chosen few. I could leave a legacy to the village children, the only persons to whom I can sometimes give pleasure, and the others who would perhaps miss me for three days after the last honors were paid to my remains, must become accustomed to it. But you see, dear friend, the most annoying part of misfortune is, that it makes even a brave soul weak and womanish. Day follows day, each adds its own contribution to the burden we bear, our shoulders grow hard, and the heart becomes callous. How often I've thought of Hamlet's soliloquy. But though he studied philosophy at Wittenberg, and I've only received a few lessons from you--I know better than he how the 'native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought.' It's 'just the fear of something after death;' what makes us cowardly, is the fear that the most delightful portion of the feast of life will come after we have left the hall to sleep away all weariness and sorrow. Perhaps it is childish, but I never rise in the morning without hoping for some unexpected event that might deliver me. There are countless pleasures on earth--am I the only person to whom none are allotted? Must I alone never say--now I can die in peace, for I know why I have lived?' Well to-day I'm glad that I didn't lose patience, but lived on, though every evening found the hope of the morning withered and dead. To-day I rose with a heavier heart than ever, and only determined to join the hunting party because I said to myself: 'sometime your horse will have more sense than you have courage, and will throw you off and break your neck.' And then I saw you--or your ghost, as I at first thought--standing among the people who have acted as mutes in the farce of my life; then I at last felt that for which I have always longed, a joy, a great, strong, real joy--only at first it was too strong and overcame me. I'm entirely out of practice in being happy."
"My poor friend," paid Edwin deeply agitated, "you will, you must get into practice again. How happy I should be, if I could only succeed in reconciling you to your life? True, I'm still too much of a stranger here to fully understand the circumstances in which you are placed; but my short acquaintance with your husband has disclosed nothing which should make your estrangement irreconcilable. You know, and even the greatest stranger must see, what a deep grief it is to him that he has lost you, though you are his wife. He seems--whatever else he may lack--to be a gentleman, whom only the false and shallow education of his class has prevented from making something more of himself. I should think, if you only desired it that for a fond glance, a kind word from you he would do the most unprecedented things. Can you blame him for surrounding himself with such society, if you deny him yours? Perhaps the very bitterness that has come between you, has served to sink him into a still lower depth. Now you've only to give him your little finger, and I think you could lead him a long distance up the heights, so high that these 'mutes' could not climb after you."
"Are you in earnest?" she asked looking quietly at him. "But why shouldn't you believe all this. You've not lived with this man. Did I know, myself, four years ago, that nothing is more hopeless than what you call a gentleman? To be sure, in your sense, as you and your friends are--where the inability to do anything unworthy arises from your nature and the honest desire not to mar humanity--! But where the point in question is only not to offend his consciousness of rank--oh! my dear friend, I could tell you something that would arouse your indignation, and yet to do it was not derogatory to the honor of a certain 'gentleman.' No, no, it's very noble in you to persuade me to do what is kind, but I'm very sorry I can make no use of your good advice. When the hand has been cut off, you can't heal the stump with a blister. That cut has severed the joint. Such a mutilated relation--"
At this moment they heard the beat of a horse's hoofs on the forest road behind them, and, looked back to distinguish the rider, who was approaching at a rapid trot. "Who's that!" said Toinette, "the doctor? I'll wager he's following us, because he'll have no rest till he discovers on what terms we stand toward each other. He's no gentleman, and has never made any pretensions to being one. His highest idea, his ambition, and his god, is prudence, which, of course, turns around no other point than his own miserable advantage. He instantly sees the weakest side of every man just as in his capacity of doctor, he searches for the seat of disease, and treats him accordingly. Of course he hates me; for physically I'm in such perfect health, that his skill is lost upon me, and whatever else I lack, is inaccessible to his diagnosis, while he knows I see through him. Beware of him. Even his frankness is only cunning calculation. Well, Doctor," she called to the approaching horseman, "have you decided to join the hunt after all? You'll just be in at the death."
The rider, with a powerful hand, checked his steaming horse directly before the countess and respectfully raising his oddly shaped broad-brimmed hat, answered: "Her Excellency is fond of joking. I'm known to have an aversion to the shedding of blood, except in my trade. My motive for riding my brown horse out of breath is a diplomatic mission, on which no one but myself sent me, but which, as a loyal servant to my employers, I must discharge."
"To the point. Doctor, to the point! You're interrupting a very interesting conversation. So--?"
"Then I almost regret having undertaken the mission," replied the little man with an imperceptible expression of sarcastic mischief hovering around his withered lips. "Their Highnesses the Prince and Princess, with a train of followers of high and low degree, arrived an hour ago on their way to Italy, whither His Highness Prince Batároff accompanies them. They greatly regretted not finding the family at home but as they intend to spend the night at the castle, strictly forbade that any messenger should be sent to the ranger's house to announce their arrival. The princess instantly retired to the room she occupied on her previous visits, and the distinguished gentlemen will amuse themselves by shooting at a target, as they're too tired to follow the hunt. I thought therefore the countess might perhaps desire to receive the news at once. If I was mistaken, it's the same as if I'd said nothing. No one at the castle knows what road I took."
A slight shadow had darkened Toinette's beautiful face. "Why to-day!" she murmured to herself, then with a slight bend of her head to the officious messenger, she added aloud: "Very well, Doctor, I thank you. Ride on to the ranger's house, but let your horse have time to breathe. It's not at all necessary for you to overtake the hunting party, until the gentlemen have had time to breakfast quietly; do you understand? With me, of course, it's rather a different matter. I shall return immediately. Adieu, Doctor. You've again shown what a diplomat is lost in you; perhaps Prince Batároff can help you to a career in Russia. I'll recommend you to him."
The little gentleman bowed with a constrained smile, evidently not feeling exactly flattered, as he probably detected an under current of meaning in the words, then for the first time greeted Edwin with a wave of the hand, and, as his horse was already moving forward, drew his hat again over his high forehead, which despite the rain, he had bared.
The countess stood a moment lost in thought. Not until the doctor, whose horse had proceeded on a walk, had ridden a long distance into the forest, did she suddenly look up. "Yes," she said, "we're still here!" Then turning to Edwin with a bitter smile: "do you see how difficult it is for me to get into practice in the art of being happy? I'm not even allowed half a day with an old friend. Perhaps it's best not to accustom myself again to a kindly voice. My aristocratic sister-in-law--but you are not yet aware that the prince is my brother; I mean my father's son, though of course that is a profound family secret, which however everybody knows. I'm very fond of this brother, and on closer acquaintance confess I felt ashamed of the by no means flattering description I gave you of my princely admirer. You'll see that he's a thoroughly manly gentleman; dear me, he might become still more, but the cares of government his little wife imposes upon him, give him no time. I ought to say nothing about this phœnix, but put you to the test at once, though to be sure if she only stays one day, she'll bewitch you and give no time for the disenchantment which would surely ensue in the following twenty-four hours. Her character consists in having none at all and in knowing the fact; therefore every day she tries, with great expenditure of theatrical talent, to support a totally differentrôle; to-day the artless, to-morrow the sentimental, the day after the heroic, always in every character a lovely little princess, spoiled by happiness and the world. My poor brother, who has some of my taste for the genuine, not only in luxury but in his intercourse with society, of course doesn't like these continual changes and deceptive appearances, and would even be unhappy if the charming fair-haired little juggler hadn't made him madly in love with her. Besides, there's yet another bond between them: in their leisure hours, between dinner and the theatre, both study theology. Nothing is more comical than to hear this child, amid the usual prattle of the drawing room, uttering long perorations about Calvinism and the guardianship of the Lord. You must broach the subject, it's worth the trouble. She's given me up, after long efforts at conversion. I made no secret of my godlessness and afterwards regretted it. How is she to understand why I repel with loathing and horror the thought that all I suffer is the work of an omniscient, omnipotent, and yet all merciful Father? If the elements of my nature, which debar me from happiness, have been found and united by a great blind dispensation of the course of the world, and I must go to ruin under this evil combination--it's a disagreeable, but not an unendurable thought. But a God-father, who,de coeur leger, or out of pedagogical wisdom, makes an unhappy creature like me wander about so sadly between heaven and earth, that he may afterwards, to make up for lost time, allow me some gratification in eternity--no, dear friend, all the aristocratic and plebeian theology in the world can't make this theory plausible to me. But come, we'll get into the carriage; I mustn't keep my guests waiting. The prohibition to inform us, was of course only a pretense. If we didn't come, they'd be very much vexed, as they would not believe any well trained servants would heed such a command."
With these words, she walked rapidly toward the carriage, which Jean had already turned, and without waiting for Edwin's assistance, sprang lightly in. The latter remained standing beside the door.
"Don't be angry with me, dearest friend," he said in a voice trembling with emotion, "but I feel utterly unable to return with you now, to see strangers and unite in the light conversation of general society. Allow me to take leave of you for a few hours. It's an old uncivil habit, that only in complete solitude can I hear what my poor soul says to me on some occasions. The forest is so beautiful, and the rain has ceased; I'll wander hap-hazard through the thickets. This evening at any rate I'll be with you, in case you need me."
"I'll impose no restrictions upon your liberty," replied the beautiful woman, without turning her eyes from her horses' heads. "You're right to avoid what's contrary to your nature and happy in being able to do so! But you'll compensate me for these lost hours to-morrow--day after to-morrow--the whole week. No; no objections! You want to restore me to the old habit of being happy, and it will not be done so very quickly. I've forgotten too much. Adieu, dear friend,--until this evening!"
She cracked the whip Jean had handed to her, the tall lad in the green and silver livery sprang into the back seat, and away dashed the light carriage, as if the horses wished to doubly indemnify themselves for the unwelcome rest.
Edwin stood still a long time watching the flutter of Toinette's grey veil, then with a heavy sigh, turned away and plunged into the network of paths leading from the high road.
So deep a silence reigned here, that when he paused, he fancied he could hear the sap rising through the trunks of the trees. The wind, which had brought the rain, had changed, the brightest summer sky arched over the cool forest. From the thicket of pines, a narrow path wound through large tracts of hilly beech woods, past which the hunt had rushed at so great a distance that the deer and hares had not been startled from their repose, and let the lonely pedestrian pass by with more curiosity than fear. But he scarcely disturbed them by a glance; his gaze was turned inward; he was questioning his own heart, yesterday so peaceful, and now agitated by a wild horde of painful thoughts.
He understood this impetuous heart well enough not to deceive himself a moment as regarded the nature of the storm within. So fixed was his habit of taking seriously everything he felt, and his honest endeavor never to spare or palliate anything pernicious in his nature, that even midst the indescribable confusion into which the last hour had plunged him, he said steadfastly to himself as soon as he was alone: "You're lost, if you remain." He felt, with deep horror, how all that four years of the deepest, purest happiness had done to stifle the memory of his old struggles, was baffled in a single moment. He did not deceive himself about the matter, it was not commiseration for his friend's cheerless fate that burned so passionately in his soul. If he had found her radiant in happiness, pride and love, he would have felt no differently.
But to know she was unhappy and that in suffering this misery she had become a true woman, loving and needing love, that she clung to him and to his firm soul--as she thought it--as to a last stronghold, fanned the flames within him, and broke his resolute will.
What he owed himself, himself and his pure, faithful, noble wife, rose so clearly in his mind amid all the confusion, that without shame, and in the firm conviction that nothing could avail against his final victory over these dark powers, he repeated Leah's name. He spoke to her as if she were walking beside him, as if he were telling her about his condition. "No, child," said he, "fear nothing for either of us. We shall never part, never, never! Only have patience with me; the elements are let loose and playing foot-ball with my heart. But such a heart, child, which you have taken in your keeping and drawn to you--no, it will not be thus played with long. If it is painful, dearest, this storm, this rending and tearing within--it will pass away, I hope, without your perceiving it. It's not true that we are helpless drops of water in the sea of passions. We can recollect ourselves, cling fast to what is right and good, like a mussel to the cliff from which no surge can tear it. To be sure, the cliff might totter, but the happiness we have found together is imperishable and I will cling to it. And yet--can it be the same as of old, if we are forced to remember how unhappy this poor woman will always be?"--
He lost himself in a dull reverie over the thought of what might be, if he had no duties, and need not consider any one except the woman who had clutched his hand like a person sinking in a bottomless gulf. If he had only found her so four years ago!
Leah's image grew dim, he saw at this moment only the form of his first, lost love, as he had now found her again--a shudder ran through his frame, as he still felt the pressure of her hand on his arm, and thought of the dark lustre of her eyes and those lips which he had only once kissed on that drive through the moonlight. He smiled in the midst of his horror, and yet he could scarcely breathe, so heavily did the sultry atmosphere weigh upon his breast; without knowing what he did, he repeated two lines of one of Rückert's poems:
The taper's dim and flickering lightShe has re-kindled with her smile--
The taper's dim and flickering lightShe has re-kindled with her smile--
So in happy wretchedness, forgetting where he was, he staggered through the dense forest. He felt as if he were wandering through a region far away from the world, where every thing that binds and separates human beings, all strictly drawn lines of duty, were abolished and overgrown by the wild luxuriance of the powers of nature, where a poor mortal wanders aimlessly about, and so long as he remains in the enchanted wilderness must give himself up to the sweet torture of hidden fires.
Several shots, which echoed in the distance, and the strange whining yelp of the hounds suddenly roused him from this bewilderment. He perceived that he was in danger of approaching within range of the hunt. For one moment he thought how little was needed to reduce the conflict in his mind to peace; a stray bullet--and all would be over. But he felt no temptation to provoke this solution, far less could he resolve to follow the track of human beings. He hastily bent his steps in the opposite direction and then once more allowed his movements to be directed by chance.
He had probably wandered to and fro for about an hour, when he entered one of the numerous paths only wide enough to permit the passage of the wood cutters' carts which intersected the forest in straight lines. He was about to cross it, and to plunge into the thicket on the opposite side, when a strange procession, approaching at a measured pace scarcely a gun shot from the spot, made him pause, in spite of his desire to shun the presence of man. First rode the little high shouldered doctor, holding an eager conversation with a huntsman who walked beside him. Behind them four peasants, who seemed to have been acting as beaters, carried a litter, on which, lying upon coverlets hastily rolled up into cushions, a stout figure was stretched, the upper part of the body, despite the uncomfortable position, in constant motion, the head turning first to the right and then to the left, and the arms employed in eager gesticulation. The rear of the train was closed by two horsemen, dressed exactly alike and mounted on horses of the same color, in whom Edwin already recognized the brothers Thaddäus and Matthäus von der Wende. They seemed, as usual, to be perfectly silent, but hung their heads sorrowfully, and in their wonderful resemblance to each other looked still more comical on horseback than on foot.
When the caravan had approached still nearer, Edwin saw that the shapeless struggling mass, under which the bearers gasped, was his neighbor of the preceding night, the fat landed-proprietor. The jovial gentleman who, in spite of a wide bandage around his left foot, was in excellent spirits and from time to time broke the deep silence of the forest with his roars of laughter, now turned on his couch, recognized the pedestrian and calling him by name, nodded kindly and beckoned him to approach. The bearers were very glad to set down the litter while Edwin listened to the story of the accident, which the stout gentleman related with much humor. He had taken his position under a large beech on the edge of an opening in the forest. The twin brothers, who even in hunting were inseparables, had posted themselves on the opposite side. As the wounded stag, with a sudden turn dashed through the glade, two shots suddenly echoed from that other side; the brothers, who in their zeal for the chase had failed to remember the position of their fellow huntsman, hit him instead of the stag. Whether he owed the bullet in his leg to Matthäus or Thaddäus would remain undecided till the day of judgment. As faithful twins, they had both taken deeply to heart the Christian blood that had been spilled, and he was now vainly endeavoring to console them for an accident which was really not worth mentioning. "The only person who's a gainer by the affair is yourself, Herr Doctor," he concluded with a pleasant laugh. "You'll be shown to another room in the castle, where you'll be no farther molested by my nightly snores, for the physician-in-ordinary will need to watch lest fever should set in, and will meantime take up his quarters in your room. But such a tough old skin as mine is not so sensitive, that one need make any special fuss about a little hole in the leg. If it should grow worse, I'll call you to my assistance, honored sir. You deal, I hear, in philosophy; that must be good medicine for a man when he's obliged to lie still, and is fairly beside himself for weariness two weeks before the rye harvest. Ha! ha! ha! And tally-ho!"
He shook Edwin cordially by the hand, and the procession again moved on.
The little doctor now allowed the litter and the melancholy couple that brought up the rear to preceed him, and pausing watched the procession for a time; then with a cunning twinkle in his eyes dismounted. "I'll overtake them," he said joining Edwin, and allowing his docile animal to crop the fresh grasses along the edge of the path. "I'm very glad to have met you here, Herr Doctor; I've something to communicate which it's unnecessary for other ears to hear, and here we're quite alone. I see by the direction you were taking, that you're not in a hurry. If it suits your pleasure, we'll stroll comfortably along the road; I'll not detain you long from pursuing your fancy for untrodden paths."
"As you please," replied Edwin dryly, making no attempt to conceal how little he desired the companionship forced upon him.
But the little doctor pretended not to notice his reluctance. He was silent for a time and seemed to be considering how most skillfully to begin his disclosures.
"Honored Herr Doctor," he said at last, "or perhaps in memory of your father, I may be permitted to say my dear friend; pardon me if I speak to you of a perhaps extremely uninteresting person--my own insignificant self. You should know--and in spite of our recent acquaintance, have doubtless already noticed--that the foundation of my character is frankness and honesty. Clever men soon learn that it's not worth their while to play a part;le jeu ne vaut pas la chandelle. But unfortunately in the universal masquerade people perform together, it's difficult for the very persons who go unmasked to make others believe that they show their own countenances. 'Take off your nose, Herr Doctor!'--'But, Madame, I assure you it grows on my face'--'Who will believe that? You're much too cunning a fox, when your profession compels you to thrust your nose into everything, to use your own for the purpose.' This is what we're told, my honored friend, and no matter how much it nettles the real nose to be taken forpapier maché, nobody pities it. People compassionate only the simple, and God knows they don't need it for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."
He sighed and took from a small gold box, which looked as if it might be a present from the late countess, a pinch of snuff, as if he wanted to console his nose for its sad destiny of being misunderstood.
"You now perceive," he continued, as Edwin obstinately remained silent, "that nothing can be more offensive to a man whose principal maxim is frankness and honesty, than to have those whose opinions he values believe him an intriguer. They thereby imply either that they don't think it worth while to understand his character, or consider him too pitiful a wight to venture to show himself as God created him. This mortification, I must confess, is not a new experience to me, but old as I am I can't yet summon up sufficient philosophy to endure it with composure. So long as my patroness, the count's mother, lived, I was now and then compelled to submit to humiliations, and forced to see that I was considered an insignificant though useful man, a harmless domestic animal, fed at the general crib. Since the young countess came into the house--you, my friend, as I know, have long been attached to her, of course in a very beautiful, intellectual relation, far beyond all suspicion. But for that very reason, I think you'll be just the person to do me a real service with the noble lady, whom no one can more sincerely respect than I."
Edwin looked keenly at the little man. He really could not decide, whether his quiet respectful demeanor was a mask or the outward expression of his "frankness and honesty." "I'm curious to learn in what this service can consist," said he.
"It's a very simple matter, my dear fellow, merely to aid the countess in forming a somewhat better opinion of her most obedient servant; nothing exaggerated, only mere fairness and justice. The countess, as you've perceived, treats me with an aversion which, in the presence of a third person, is concealed behind the veil of sarcastic courtesy. If she meets me alone, even under the most favorable circumstances, I'm an object on which to vent her displeasure, or I see her charming little foot make a movement as if it longed to crush some worm or reptile, and only refrained in order that the sole of the dainty shoe might not be soiled. You'll admit, that for a man of my years this is not exactly pleasant."
"But have you understood her aright? Why should she feel such a passionate dislike to--"
"To a harmless domestic animal? Ha! ha! Because even the most innocent creatures are made responsible for--hm! You understand me--I won't say too much; but that the flower of mutual happiness,felicitas pratensis, does not flourish on the soil of this marriage, but is robbed of air and light by all sorts of weeds, can scarcely--as I've seen you engaged in the most confidential conversation with Her Excellency--have escaped your notice."
A deep flush crimsoned Edwin's face, and he was on the point of sending the insolent spy about his business with a sharp answer, when the thought of how unwise it would be to give the wily diplomat a direct refusal, restrained him. "Perhaps you're mistaken in regard to the degree of confidence the countess bestows upon me," he answered dryly.
"Well, well, let that pass," laughed the little doctor, pausing a moment beside his horse, which was quietly grazing. "I'll do no violence to your discretion, heaven forbid! But I--you may think what you please of it--must unbosom myself entirely, that my old friend's son may see my hands are clean. I know why the countess hates me; she has not left me in doubt. You see, my worthy friend, ever since the child was born--you understand me--since that time the marriage has been practically the same as cancelled. Why so? Perhaps you know more about it than I. And between ourselves, what concern is it of mine? I didn't make the match; if it doesn't turn out happily, why should I concern myself about it? But it's not to be expected that my former pupil and present lord and master, the count, would take the matter so phlegmatically. He asked me to discover the reason of his wife's sudden dislike, which increased till she retired into convent-like seclusion. He askedme, why I had never even had the honor of feeling my beautiful mistress' pulse; at the utmost she might consult me if one of her waiting maids had a sore finger; for she seemed to have formed an unfavorable opinion of me at our first meeting. So nothing could be done by me. Besides, I was convinced that no physical cause lay at the bottom of her strange antipathy to her husband. What could it be? You've seen him. He may not be quite so irresistible as he considers himself; but as she didn't always dislike him--in short, the matter seemed to belong to some other province than medicine. But we advanced no farther than this. I counseled patience. But at thirty years of age, when a man is madly in love, and moreover accustomed to have his orders obeyed on his own domain, from his mother down to the youngest groom--you understand that patience could not last long. There were scenes, touching and brutal; for several months, every day brought different weather, as sunshine or storm was tried to dispel the unapproachable virtue in which this singular being enwrapped herself. At last--this I have partly from the count himself, partly from the maid, a person who would allow herself to be hacked into kindling wood for her mistress--he seized upon a perfectly desperate expedient, from which any sensible person who had any knowledge of this lady's character would have dissuaded him; he attempted to give her, in a cup of tea, a sort of love potion, whose principal ingredient was morphine, in order--you understand--that old heathen Morpheus, has already performed a great many just such services--but this time it seems he conducted the matter awkwardly--and in short the plan failed and everything was spoiled."
"Horrible!" exclaimed Edwin. "This--this is certainly--"
"Had you no suspicion of it?"
"What woman would relate such an affair, even to a mother or sister? My God! what a man."
"Hm!" said the little doctor, looking him sharply in the face, "they're human, and human actions are after their style. However, I think you judge the count too harshly. You, as a platonic admirer, and the countess' friend and adviser, can probably not imagine how a man feels, who calls such a treasure his own, and yet knows it to be secluded in a tower with seven gates, to which he has not the key. If, armed with a rude club, he tries to burst the bolts--but we won't argue about it. It's certain that, when he once suggested the idea, I firmly advised him not to adopt it, merely on account of its doubtfulness and the small probability of success. But you see, my friend, that's just what she will not believe, though the count himself bore witness in my behalf. She says such a disgraceful idea could never have originated in the brain of a gentleman, with some sense of honor, who did not wish to degrade his own wife to the level of a common wench. The plan and its execution must have been suggested by some officious subordinate fiend, and this shameful, and, with all his diabolical cunning, very stupid devil, could be no one else than poor Doctor Basler, who in his over-wisdom and in obedience to his master's commands, was quite capable of playing a trick as simple as it was disgraceful."
He sighed, and as if in a fit of moral indignation, struck at the blackberry bushes that grew on the edge of the forest. Suddenly he paused, drew the bridle tight so that his horse was checked and stood still, and said in his frankest tone: "There now, I've unburdened my heart. The rest will follow as a matter of course. I'm an old man, and it's not a consoling prospect, that on the next equally innocent occasion, the noble lady's aversion will develop into open hatred and revenge and she may insist upon sending me out of the house. I've become accustomed to living here and should cut a poor figure out in the world. For although I can't be driven from the door like a dog--certain old obligations will not permit that--the gods know how I should fare. And this lady, strange as it sounds, still has unlimited power over my former pupil. I believe, if she made it the price of reconciliation, that I should be drowned in a cask of Burgundy, I should hardly escape with my life, in spite of the fact that we live in the nineteenth century. So it would be kind and friendly in you, my dear sir, if you would reason the countess out of this insane prejudice against me. Good Heavens, I don't ask much; I've seen my best days; but in return for the frankness and honesty with which I've always treated her, to be taken for a venal scoundrel, a miserable wretch capable of being hired for every secret deed of villainy, like a foreign bravo, you must confess, is rather too much, and may well make the blood seethe in the veins of an honorable man."
The last words were spoken from the saddle into which he had again mounted. He seemed to take Edwin's silence for the assent which, in such cases, is a matter of course among "men of honor." "I rely upon you entirely," he cried, putting spurs to his little horse, "and am of course ready to perform any service in return. Who knows whether the harmless domestic animal, who signs himself Doctor Basler, may not yet be useful;homo sum, nihil humani--that's always the refrain."
He waved his hat with a familiar twinkle in his eyes, spurred on his horse, and trotted rapidly after the procession, which was already considerably in advance.
Edwin was glad that they had parted so quickly. He could not have much longer refrained from repaying his new friend's "frankness and honesty" in the same coin, informing him that he felt entirely unable to play the expectedrôleof mediator. His heart burned, his tongue was bitter with loathing and suppressed indignation. He now clearly perceived that there was no longer anything to hope for, the breech could not be healed. But then what remained forhimto do, what had he to accomplish here? And yet--how could he tear himself away, leave her to herself, after he had learned how entirely she was right in believing her life by this man's side a lost existence?
He again plunged into the forest and wandered about a long time through the loneliest portions of the woods, a slave to the greatest mental torture he had ever experienced, until at last he could think no longer, because of exhaustion and over excitement. Toward noon he found himself near a handsome farm-house, which stood in a secluded spot beside a foundry. Here he obtained some food and asked for a quiet spot to rest. He was shown into a large barn, where he threw himself down on the freshly threshed straw. Ere long nature asserted its right to a recompense for the previous wakeful night. He fell asleep, and the sun had already sunk behind the hills, when the farm laborers returning from their work roused the wearied man from his dreamless slumber.
Edwin's first thought was that his long nap had fortunately debarred him from dining at the castle with the aristocratic visitors. He hoped also to evade them in the evening, and was therefore unpleasantly surprised when he learned that all his wanderings had only led him around the castle in a circle, and that he merely needed to cross a hill to find himself at the gate in the rear of the park. He submitted to his fate, allowed a day laborer's barefooted child to show him the way, and reached the entrance just in time to see the last rays of sunset reflected from the copper roof of the little corner tower.
He tried to slip unobserved into his room by the staircase that led from the courtyard into the wing, but a footman, who seemed to have been waiting for him, reminded him of the accident which had befallen his neighbor in the adjoining apartment, and apologized for having removed his luggage during his absence to a room in the upper story of the main building--a beautiful front room, which Her Excellency the countess said would undoubtedly please the Herr Doctor. But Edwin was perfectly indifferent as to where he was lodged, when, on entering his apartment he approached the high bay-window and saw outspread before him in the calm twilight, the peaceful forest, the broad fields, and tender hued sky arching over them, he felt for the first time that day, lighthearted and at ease, and the heavy atmosphere of anxious thought melted away. The servant lighted the candles on the pier table, asked if he had any orders to give and then left the room with the remark that dinner would be served in half an hour. Their Highnesses had wished to wait till the Herr Count returned from hunting.
Edwin nodded absently. He was still undecided as to what he ought to do. Instead of the oppressive fear of his own weakness which had driven him all day through the forest, an eager desire had arisen to see Toinette again, to hear the voice that made the inmost chords of his being tremble, and to feel her glance once more rest upon him. It seemed to him as if he should now be strong enough to play with the fire, but the presence of strangers, of whom he must take cognizance, annoyed him.
On the dainty table with gilded rococo feet, he had found his traveling satchel, and mechanically began to unpack the contents. His portfolio fell into his hand. He remembered the letter he had written to Leah twenty-four hours before, and in what an unsuspecting mood! Then he considered whether it would not be well to inform her immediately of the events that had occurred, that the hardest part of the story might have been told when he saw her again. He felt that he possessed at least sufficient courage to attempt it, and had already taken out his writing materials, when some one knocked at the door and Count Gaston, attired in a very elegant black dress suit, entered with his usual cordial impetuosity.
"Writing, Doctor?" he exclaimed laughing. "What? great thoughts came to you in the forest to-day, that must be put on paper at once? You men of science are enviable mortals. One of us, in order to methodically exercise his vocation of enjoying life, requires such a complicated apparatus; carriages for conveying kitchen utensils, baskets of wine, a piano, Havana cigars, fair women, and various other necessaries. You, on the contrary, wander through a wilderness, in which nothing grows except beech acorns, oaks, and fir cones, and return home, fully satisfied 'with your load of immortal thoughts,' as Lenau says. I deeply regret that I must disturb you in this intellectual revelry, to take you away to much more material enjoyment. Dinner will be served in fifteen minutes, the beautiful princess is very anxious to make your acquaintance, and if you want to dress--"
"I am already attired in the dress of a philosopher," interrupted Edwin smiling, "who as you say must manage to do without complicated apparatus;omnia sua secum portans. If the beautiful princess will be satisfied--"
"Of course, my dear fellow. The point in question is only whether it may not be a little embarrassing foryou. To be sure, everybody wears the uniform of his profession, and besides in traveling--for the rest, my whole wardrobe and valet are at your disposal, in case you prefer--"
"Thank you, my dear count. You really remind me just at the right time, of the duty which, on occasions of ceremony we owe the house whose hospitality we enjoy. A queer fellow and cynic is in his proper place in his tun, but the contrast between a vagrant's dress and these magnificent apartments would make even Father Diogenes, if he possessed any sense of harmony--"
"Why, my honored friend, you entirely misunderstand me. I'd not the most distant intention--no, you must--you can in no case--"
"Yet allow me, my dear count, to pursue what I think the most sensible course, especially as I've not the slightest appetite, for I took my dinner at a farm house. Besides, if these noble guests intend to remain so short a time, the presence of a total stranger--"
"You'll expose me to the anger of my adored cousin!" cried Gaston with comical pathos. "Do me the favor not to be proud or obstinate. You must know our party has already dwindled considerably. The twin murderers, Thaddäus and Matthäus, have locked themselves up and are atoning for their attempt on our fat neighbor's life, with Rhine wine and truffle pâtés. Oginsky, on hearing that Prince Batároff was to make one of our party, was suddenly seized with such a violent headache that he went to bed at once. Between ourselves, he probably fears that this Russian knows his antecedents better than my dear cousin, whose eyes I hope may be opened by this sudden headache. Therefore no one is left to pay court to the charming princess, except the chevalier, who is usually as silent in the society of ladies belonging to the great world as he's talkative in the presence of thedemi monde, and I, who with the best intentions, whenever the object of my hopeless love is present, have no other goddess beside her. Take into consideration the singular mood of the master of the house, and that the young prince is no brilliant talker, and you'll see the party will be a very dull one, and all the blame will fall on my unfortunate self. Dear Doctor, be noble, be sublime, come down with me just as you are. Otherwise I'll conjure up all the powers of heaven and hell, and induce the mistress of the castle to come in person to coax you away from your inkstand. Can that alone satisfy your pride, or will you say even to this divine vision: 'Be kind enough not to stand in my light, Countess.'"
Edwin could not help laughing.
"You laugh!" exclaimed the gay young fellow. "That is, you'll yield. That's the secret of all victories over the obdurate of both sexes; it's only necessary to make them laugh. Oh! my proud, grave cousin! If the brightest fire of my wit had ever allured anything more than a gracious smile to her lips! But now come down to where you're eagerly awaited. Only take care that you're not converted by the blue eyes of the innocent high-born missionary. There's more joy in heaven over one philosopher that repenteth, than over ninety and nine frivolous children of the world of my stamp."
Still talking in the same strain, he seized Edwin by the arm, scarcely gave him time to wash his hands, and then dragged him along the brilliantly lighted corridors and down the broad carpeted steps of the marble staircase.
When they entered the littlesalonadjoining the dining hall, the master of the house hastened toward them, greeted Edwin with his stereotyped cordiality, and apologized for not having been able to see his guest all day. The hunting party, from which he had unfortunately missed him at the rendezvous, and his duties toward his new visitors, had occupied all his time. Edwin bowed absently. His eyes were wandering toward the new faces which he saw by the flickering light of the wax candles. The tall, broad shouldered gentleman with the bald head and long blond beard, who had been talking to the chevalier by the window, and now cast a cold glance from his narrow grey eyes at the new comer, was undoubtedly the Russian prince. On the blue silk sofa, beside the countess, who had exchanged her velvet riding habit for a heavy black satin dress, sat a little, dainty, fair-haired creature in a most tasteful fanciful toilette, who, seen from behind, looked like a half grown girl. When, as the count introduced Edwin to her, she turned and raised a pair of laughing blue eyes to his, he could easily understand that this fairy-like vision must exercise no little power in converting unbelievers. Now, to be sure, beside the far nobler beauty of the mistress of the house, the danger even to such a butterfly heart as that of the young count, was not irresistible. Only her own husband, a handsome young man with a delicate, thoughtful face, whose family resemblance to the countess could not escape notice, seemed to be perpetually under the spell of those childish blue eyes. At least his own constantly turned toward them, and in the midst of his conversation with others, he often paused to address some trivial question to his wife. He held out his hand to Edwin in the most cordial manner, saying that he had already heard a great deal about him and rejoiced in the fortunate accident, which had at last procured him the pleasure of his acquaintance. Toinette nodded to him with a strange smile, whose meaning a third person would scarcely have guessed, but the young princess received him with special graciousness, instantly proffered him the empty seat beside her, and with all the coquetry of a spoiled child made no concealment of the fact that she intended to fascinate him as speedily as possible.
"You must stay with me a little while, Herr Doctor," she said stroking the smooth head of one of the slender, tawny hounds, with her delicate white hand, on which sparkled several beautiful rings. "Do you know that I've scarcely ever, in all my life, been so curious about a new acquaintance? You're the first live philosopher I ever saw. I've always wanted--and perhaps dreaded a little--to know one, and now--"
"Now you see a very commonplace mortal, without cloven feet, even without gloves, in which he could conceal his satanic claws, and who only differs from other people in venturing, under the pressure of necessity, to enter this noble society in the modest garb of a traveler on a pedestrian tour."
"Whether you seem so commonplace to me," replied the beautiful blonde, shaking back her curls and casting a laughing glance at her husband, "is a doubtful question, which we'll not discuss here. Enough, you have completely undeceived me."
"And what idea had you formed of a philosopher, Princess?"
"I had always imagined an elderly, yellow, thin man, with piercing black eyes and scornfully compressed lips--something after the style of Voltaire--a man in whose presence a cold shudder runs through one's frame, and who rubs his hands with a gloomy laugh, partly from malicious pleasure that he has deprived so many good, simple people of the salvation of their souls, and partly because he himself is freezing."
"I can assure you, Your Highness, that I find both the temperature of this drawing room and the world outside perfectly comfortable."
"That's just what I perceived at once, and what greatly surprised me. Perhaps, however, you're only a good actor, or don't you really shiver?"
"So far as I'm aware," replied Edwin smiling, "philosophers have just as warm red blood as other mammiferous animals. What made you suppose, Madame, that we belonged to the amphibious?
"Your relationship to the serpent, whose evil business you continue. Or do you do something besides persuading the poor children of God, that they may eat of the tree of knowledge, although you know the punishment that will follow--the loss of Paradise."
"And are you so certain, that our first parents felt warmer and happier and more comfortable in the perpetual sunlight, than when they ate their bread in the sweat of their brow? However this question is difficult to decide and fortunately no longer comes under consideration. We're not in Eden now, we must seek some compensation for the sunny ignorance we've lost, and so far as my experience goes, Your Highness, among the various means of keeping warm, the possession of a genuine, honest philosophy is not the worst."
"What? You assert that reason can warm? A wisdom in which the heart has no share--"
"And who told you that we conduct our business in such a divided manner? The head having nothing to do with the affairs of the heart, and the heart never venturing to suggest anything to the head? But, to be sure, I forgot that Your Highness is engaged in deep theological studies. For two thousand years we've been exposed to calumnies from that quarter, which is not always easy to accept patiently, at least from a beautiful mouth. However, didn't the Christian martyrs quietly accept taunts and misrepresentation, without having the warmth of their blood called in question?"
"You wrong me, Herr Doctor," she answered; casting down her eyes with a bewitching blush; "I'm a simple, unlearned woman, who's only glad that, 'when clever men talk she can understand what they mean.' Ask my dear friend, the countess. She'll bear witness that I am very unskillful in making converts. One who thinks only with the heart, must at least have so full a heart, that it will overflow of its own accord, as a vessel of mercy, which cannot contain its wealth and must impart a portion to other thirsty souls. But I'm more and more convinced that words are no keys to heaven, that true theology doesn't consist in arguments about dogmas. Even the profound revelations of the mystic--"
"Have you ventured into these abysses?" exclaimed Edwin.
"With a competent guide," smiled the beautiful woman, gracefully waving her fan to and fro, "with a carefully tested safety lamp as a protection--why not? It is so interesting, the secret terror which seizes us when we see in the dim light of these deep ravines and caves, as in an artificial mine, strange stalactites and the glimmer of metal and have a suspicion of the treasures that may yet be concealed. One returns to the bright daylight so willingly. You must not think me a hypocrite. On the contrary, since I've gazed into the depths, I look at all worldly pleasures with more grateful eyes as a gift of our Creator, and rejoice that I can still be so childish, much more childish and even more thoughtless than my dear friend here, who is ten weeks younger than I, and has confessed that she neither prays nor holds any intercourse with her God. Isn't it true, Toinette, am I unfit to be a Moravian?"
"Who knows, dear Alexine?" replied Toinette, who during all this time seemed to have only half listened to Gaston's eager whispers. "By way of a change, in order to experience this emotion also, and if the right spiritual guide should appear with adifferentlyconstructed safety lamp--"
"Horrible!" exclaimed the little blonde beauty, giving her neighbor a light tap with her fan. "Don't believe a word of it, Herr Doctor. The countess only slanders me so maliciously, because she has taken a perfectly causeless prejudice against the vicar who accompanies me, and who certainly has had a great deal to do with the present direction of my mind. You'll make his acquaintance, and shall then decide whether he deserves this aversion."
"To be made umpire on such a critical subject, whereby I must in any case forfeit the favor of one of two noble ladies--"
"Is a martyrdom in the service of truth, which a philosopher cannot escape. The vicar has a few letters to write; he is, even in worldly things, my--our trusted counsellor. But I hope, in the course of the evening--"
At this moment the folding doors of the dining hall were thrown open, the butler in full gala dress appeared on the threshold with a silent bow, the master of the house offered his arm to the princess, the prince to his sister, and the remainder of the party followed the two couples without any formality.
Edwin was seated at table next to the chevalier, who eat and drank with the appetite of a ship-wrecked mariner, and at intervals carried on a monosyllabic conversation in French with the young count, taking not the slightest notice of his other neighbor. The place on Edwin's left was apparently reserved for the chaplain of the princely household. Our friend was therefore entirely alone and heartily glad to be so. He saw behind the large silver epergne, filled with a superb bouquet of red and yellow roses, Toinette's beautiful face, mysterious dark eyes, and snowy neck, over which clustered her soft brown curls; her stately, yet pliant figure leaned quietly back in her chair, as she allowed dish after dish to pass untouched. Beside her sat the fair-haired princess, who talked continually in her sprightly fashion, laughed, ate and drank in the most coquettish manner, and more and more resembled a waiting maid who has put on fine clothes and is skillfully imitating the manners of a great lady.
She was eagerly endeavoring to persuade the count and countess, that they could do nothing wiser than to make up their minds to accompany her to Italy, and described so drolly the pleasures of a journey with hundreds of adventures, attacks bybanditti, miserable inns in which there would be no accommodations for so large a company, and finally a solemn audience with the Holy Father, in which she would assert that among Protestants, kissing the slipper[9]was the husband's business, that even Toinette joined in the laugh she excited, though she remained firm in her refusal. Traveling did not agree with her nerves, she said quietly. Her husband had eagerly agreed with the princess and spoken more enthusiastically than was his habit, of former journeys through the countries of the South. When he heard his wife decline so positively a deep shadow darkened his brow; he turned suddenly pale, twisted his moustache, and became perfectly silent.
"You ought not to give your final answer yet, Countess," said the Russian guest, as he passed the fat fingers of his well kept hand through his long beard. A certain nervous twitching of the brow was perceptible as he spoke, while his little eyes completely disappeared in the broad face, and the huge bald head bore an unpleasant resemblance to a skull. "Princess Sascha has shown you the romantic side of the plan. Now look at it also from the classical, artistic point. It would be a ridiculous affectation for me not to confess with frankness that you couldn't have a better cicerone in the museums and churches, villas and ruins, than my humble self, or, as the Italians say,il povero Signor me. This is my sixth visit to Italy. To be sure, I can't show you many things that delighted me on my first five journeys, for the simple reason that I've taken them to my own home.Que voulez-vous?We're considered Northern barbarians, always in search of booty. A man must not be better than his reputation. But some things still remain which are worth seeing, and as for your nerves, Countess--perhaps there's but one effectual remedy for sufferings such as yours: the magnetic fluid of art. I offer myself as your artistic physician-in ordinary, and will guarantee a cure."
"And who tells you. Prince Batároff, that I've not already tried this remedy in Germany, and without success?"
"In Germany? Art in Germany? Unless you're speaking of music, which is one domain of the German nature, or gymnastics--"
"I always supposed the Dresden gallery, which we studied for a fortnight on our wedding tour, possessed some works of art for which Italy might envy us, and the museums of Berlin, Vienna, Munich--"
"Don't mention those wretched forcing houses, in which I always feel suffocated by the artificial heat with which, with scientific zeal, the worthy Germans endeavor to correct their natural want of artistic perception! My nerves, thank God, are as strong as I wish yours were, but I really believe they would fail till I should be attacked by hysteria, if I were compelled to spend two hours a day for a fortnight in one of your national museums. Once, when on the cost of Finland, I entered a hut--it was during one of those storms when the meanest roof is welcome--and found the fisherman's family gathered round a box they had just saved from a stranded ship. It contained some great lady's jewels and dresses, which had suffered little damage, and now, seen in the hands and by the light of the dim oil lamp of these worthy half-idiots, were about as much out of place as are the Titians, Rubens, Correggios, and Raphaels in your dear German cities, watched by pedants, gaped at by snobs, and only separated by a thin roof from the grey dull sky, which they suit as well as the Brussels laces in that stranded chest suited the smoky atmosphere of a Finnish fisherman's hut."
"You're mounted on your hobby again," said Toinette's brother, with a subtle smile. "And you'll right; he who wishes to understand artists, must go to the land of artists. But you forget one thing; if art is not indigenous in our colder zone--ought we to abandon the hope that by long and affectionate care it will at last become acclimated? Who knows what we lack? That we do not, in our need, tamely submit with folded arms, is no reproach to us, and when I look at German artists--"
"German artists? I implore you, my dear Prince, in the names of the great masters, not to give these wretched bunglers so proud a name! But no, I wrong them. They're no bunglers, but rather very skillful mechanics or artisans, who have learned all the rules of their trade, and feel a pride in their guild. German artists! I know them. There was one, the most ridiculous bungler in the world, a certain König, whom his colleagues called the zaunkönig, because he exhibited old hedges or fences adorned with a few weeds, as landscapes. I made a wager with a connoisseur and enthusiast, our worthy Baron L., that this poor devil, who, in the wrath of God, was condemned to daub in colors, would joyfully renounce 'art,' if any one would buy his poor talent, I mean give him enough to live upon, on condition that he would no longer paint."
"And did you win?"
"No, I lost, my dear fellow, and it served me right; I ought to have known these German dreamers and idealists better. Just think, Countess, the man discovered that an experiment was being tried upon him, his 'artist' pride awoke, and he acted as if life would not be worth the having if he could not daily daub at his wooden landscapes; he wrote me an impertinent note, throwing my favors at my feet--the title of court painter, salary, future support, and even the whole sum he had already received. I lost my bet, but Germany regained an artist, and with him one fool the more."
Gaston laughed loudly and began to interpret the story to the chevalier, who had not understood a word. The beautiful princess, who had joined in the laugh, was just turning to Toinette to continue the conversation about the journey to Italy, when Edwin's voice interrupted her.
"I must beg you, Prince," he said with quiet emphasis, "to speak somewhat more respectfully of the artist whom you choose to call a fool. I have the happiness of being a son-in-law of that worthy gentleman, and am therefore in a position to be able to form a more correct opinion of his character and the motives of his conduct. It was not wounded vanity that induced him to give up the pension which condemned him to idleness. No one can have a more modest opinion of him, perceive his deficiencies more clearly, than he himself. But as he's in nobody's way when he paints his unassuming little pictures, he has probably no reason to be ashamed of this innocent passion, which is certainly as worthy of honor as many a so-called 'noble passion,' and it was only a foolish mistake on the good man's part that your offer was taken seriously. Yet why should not a great man amuse himself by taking an affectionate interest in a little man? My dear father-in-law thinks far too well of humankind to suspect that he was the object of a contemptuous jest, made the subject of an experiment, such as Your Highness might perhaps venture to try with your serfs. That he did not decline this honor too courteously, is scarcely reprehensible in a man, who is no fool. I, myself, was the person, who as soon as I entered into the relation of a son, opened the old man's eyes and thereby contributed to make you lose your bet."
A death-like silence followed these words, and for several seconds nothing was heard but the chevalier's low whisper to Gaston: "Qu'est ce qu'il a dit, que le prince fronce si furieusement les sourcils?" But he received no answer.
While Edwin, with his eyes fixed steadily upon the prince, was awaiting his reply, a new guest had entered the hall with noiseless steps and had reached the empty chair beside Edwin. The latter now turned toward him, and suddenly started up as if a thunder bolt had fallen.
Lorinser stood before him.
Not a feature of his face had altered since Edwin had seen him last, only the carriage of the head had become a little bolder, and the glance, which still as of old sought the ground or scanned the ceiling in preference, now sometimes rested upon the person who confronted him. Such was the case at this moment, when he would have had good reason to cast down his eyes. He regarded his neighbor with a perfectly calm, courteous smile, as if inviting him to keep his seat and not trouble himself to make room for him. He was attired in faultless evening dress, and only his noiseless entrance recalled the poor candidat, who years ago had glided along such manifold crooked paths.
None of the guests, not even the mistress of the house, who during the last scene had not turned her eyes from the speaker, noticed anything unusual in Edwin's hasty movement.
"Allow me to introduce the gentlemen to each other," said the princess, glad of an interruption to the embarrassing scene; "Herr Vicar Lorenzen--"
"No introduction is necessary, Princess," interrupted Edwin with a trembling voice. "This gentleman, although he seems about to deny it, is only too well known to me; so well known in fact, that I'll give up my place in this circle to him, without farther ceremony, and take leave of the company for to-day."
"But Doctor!" cried Gaston, who had no idea of the cause of this strange scene, "the philosophy which, without striking a single blow, leaves the field to theology--"
"If my innocent remarks about German artists in general and your father-in-law in particular, which were not intended to give offence, are driving you away, I'm perfectly ready to make theamende honorable," said Prince Batároff, as he quietly stroked his beard and glanced at the countess. "You have a tongue like a sword, Herr Doctor, and I should think, after you've so bravely parried my assault, we might conclude an honorable peace."
"I thank you for your friendly words, Prince," replied Edwin, "and accept the peace unreservedly. If, nevertheless, I leave the table, it is because it goes against my nature to sit beside a person whom I believe--about whom I have my own opinion. Pray do not take this little weakness amiss. It will only serve to show the princess how unfounded was her supposition that a man must always possess cool blood to be a philosopher." He cast a glance of icy scorn at Lorinser, and bowed to the remainder of the party, carefully avoiding the countess' eyes.
"C'est drôle!" said Batároff, and he whispered something in the ear of the princess. She did not seem to hear it. Her laughing face had suddenly grown rigid with terror and was suffused with a crimson flush. The master of the house rose.
"Herr Doctor," said he in an irritated tone.
"Will the Herr Count permitmeto ask this gentleman to explain why he insults a peaceful guest of this noble house?" interrupted Lorinser without the slightest token of agitation; "unless a sudden attack of madness--"
"Unfortunately, I have still perfect control of my senses," replied Edwin cuttingly, "and no one can more deeply regret that in return for the hospitality which I have enjoyed in this house, I am placed in a situation which compels me to cause such an unpleasant scene. But no obligations of courtesy or etiquette can induce me to sit quietly beside a person, whom I have good reasons for thinking anything but a man of honor. Again I beg the master of the house and his noble guests to pardon me; but there are instincts of the blood stronger than any training. One who has a natural aversion to a toad or a snake must leave the spot that such a reptile makes unendurable; in doing this, however, I have no desire to offend any one who rejoices in stronger nerves. Look me in the face, Herr--Vicar. Your brazen front was well known to me in the days, when as Candidat Lorinser--"
"You wish to reproach me for having restored my name to the original form used in my family before they left Denmark--"
"I don't grudge you any name and title you wish to adopt. If you could efface the rest of your past as quickly--"
"Judge not, that ye be not judged," interrupted Lorinser, with immovable calmness and unction. With the exception of a slight quivering of the nostrils, not a feature of the pale but singularly imposing countenance betrayed any special agitation.
"I appeal," he continued, "to my honored mistress the princess--that I have never pretended to be a sinless man; the earth has never contained but one such, and his disciples should remember that they are all sinners and lack the renown which before God--"
"This is the introduction to a sermon, Herr Vicar," said Edwin; "I will not interrupt and prevent you from edifying your congregation. But as I am not a member I shall have the honor of taking leave of the company, and bidding them all good night."
He bowed to the countess and left the hall, before any of the party recovered from their surprise.