THE NIGHTLY ROUNDFrom the Painting by Karl SpitzwegPERMISSION FRANZ HANFSTAENGL, N.Y.
THE NIGHTLY ROUNDFrom the Painting by Karl SpitzwegPERMISSION FRANZ HANFSTAENGL, N.Y.
By means of a newspaper advertisement Hans found a new position in the house of a well-to-do manufacturer who made some kind of evil-smelling stuff in Kohlenau near Magdeburg. When Hans arrived he found the region flat, the house, which stood near the factory, bleak and inartistic, its inhabitants industrious and matter-of-fact. The three boys who were entrusted to his care were destined to become good business men. Under these conditions life weighed heavily on the young man of God and, as once before in the government official's house, he longed for a freer, broader, more beautiful world which he believed he might be able to find in the metropolis. But his contract with his employer bound him for three long years and Hans would probably not have got away before the time was up if, in the autumn, an epidemic, resembling hunger-typhus, had not broken out among the workmen, and with it a strike. Hans expressed opinions in regard to this matterwhich his employer considered preposterous and disgraceful; in fact, he even openly took the part of the workmen and, in consequence, received notice to leave at Easter. Meanwhile his position in the house became more and more unbearable, his efforts to find a new situation were unsuccessful and one February afternoon our hero, sad and depressed, sat on a stone beside the road that led through a little clump of evergreens near the factory. He had no idea how near the turn in his fate was, which, at that very moment, was approaching at a trot in the shape of an elderly, somewhat red-nosed rider with a military moustache.
It was Lieutenant Götz, who greeted Hans characteristically and sought to explain his unexpected appearance by taking out of his pocket the newspaper in which Hans had advertised for a position. Then he asked Hans to tell him about his life since their meeting in the "Post-horn" in Windheim, and finally declared that he was delighted to find things going so abominably with the candidate. This made it possible for him to prove himself a rescuer in case of need. His brother, Privy Councillor Götz, was looking for a tutor and the lieutenant, after seeing Hans' advertisement while reading the paper in a restaurant, had immediately made his way to Kohlenau with the aid of the railway, his feet, and a horse. He now gave Hans his brother's address and asked him to write to the latter that he, the lieutenant, recommended Hans. He advised him moreover to write "official business" on the envelope so that it should not fall into the hands of his brother's wife. Then the old soldier bade him a short goodby.
Hans went home busy with his thoughts, wondering at the way the past had joined itself to the present and at the prospects that opened in the future. The same evening he wrote till two o'clock composing a letter to the Privy Councillor which the postman carried away the next morning. Two weeks of torturing waiting now passed. But on the twenty-eighth of February the postman handed himthe longed-for registered letter as he was on his way home in the pouring rain from the church which lay an hour's walk away. The tutor was requested to present himself personally and punctually to the Privy Councillor at fifteen minutes to twelve on the eighth of March.
At the prospect of Hans' departure the attitude of the manufacturer and his family became more conciliatory and the parting did not take place without emotion. Hans left his trunk behind him, as the bookkeeper had promised to send it to him wherever he might be, and, armed only with a light traveling bag, he set forth to meet his new fate. Once more to his astonishment he found the lieutenant sitting on the same stone in the clump of evergreens on which he himself had been sitting when the lieutenant surprised him before, and together they continued their way on foot. Behind the wood, in the village of Plankenhausen, they stopped for breakfast, after which the lieutenant thought it advisable to take a carriage which brought them to the town of ——. From there they took the train for some distance but got out again at the last station before they reached the great metropolis, for the lieutenant maintained that it was better for Hans to enter his new life on foot because his mind would thus have the opportunity to calm itself and because he, the lieutenant, had another story which he could tell best on the march.
This story was the family history of the Götzes. Their father had been an officer of justice in the service of a count in the Harz Mountains—a conscientious, delicate man, and inhumanly learned. He would have liked to make of his sons just such gloomy reservoirs of knowledge but succeeded only in the case of his second son, Theodor. He studied law and with untiring industry and ever ready submission to the government finally became Privy Councillor after having married his pious wife, Aurelie,néevon Lichtenhahn. There were two children of the marriage; a daughter Kleophea, a girl who would fit into any description of the temptation of St. Anthony, and a sonAimé, born seven years later. The eldest of the three Götz brothers was Lieutenant Rudolf, who was then over sixty. His father had sent him to a school of forestry and he had finally received an appointment in that branch in the count's service. In the unhappy year 1806 he had entered the Prussian army and later took part in the campaigns in Russia and France. The youngest of the three had been Felix who had died five years before, but who in his youth had been a hot-headed, splendid fellow unable to stand any discipline. When the volunteer corps against Napoleon was formed he fled in the night and joined the cavalry. During the war the two brothers met in 1813 on the Elbe, in 1814 in Paris; after the war Rudolf Götz continued to serve in a small garrison but Felix filled and killed his time with sins. Then he tried his luck in America. For years nothing was heard of him, but in 1830 when things began to grow lively in Europe again he turned up once more as a Peruvian or Colombian captain and sought out Rudolf. He had seen much and had come back from America with a wife and a daughter. He had left them in Paris while he himself was on his way to Poland, where he meant to take part in the revolution. He remained till the defeat of the Poles at Ostrolenka. Ill, tattered and bleeding, in 1832, he knocked again at Rudolf's door, thus compromising the Prussian officer—and that was the reason that Rudolf had retired himself so that he might not be retired. Felix went back to his wife and child in Paris, Rudolf made his way through the world as well as he could as a half-beggar and whole vagabond. In 1836 he too went to Paris, arriving just in time for his sister-in-law's funeral. The younger brother had gone even more to the dogs than the elder and the two now combined and gave fencing lessons. Rudolf left Paris as soon as he thought that he had again set his brother on his feet, but soon after his departure the same old story began again. Felix died in misery and Rudolf fetched his niece and brought her to his brother Theodor's house.
During this tale night had come on and, from a hill, the travelers suddenly saw the great city lying at their feet. Hans could not take it in in a moment. It seemed to him as if he were standing at the edge of the sea into which he was to plunge and learn to swim; an irresistible power impelled him and yet he was afraid. The lieutenant encouraged him and steered him, inexperienced, awkward, and often surprised as he was, through the bustle and crowd of the big city, without any mishap, to the "Green Tree" Inn. The landlord, Lämmert, reported in military fashion that the "slayers of nine" were all assembled and at the lieutenant's command Hans had room 13, beside that of the old soldier, assigned to him.
After they had washed, the lieutenant introduced Hans to the company of the "slayers of nine." It was made up of men who had all at one time been connected with the military service and Colonel von Bullau, owner of the estate of Grunzenow and formerly the commander of Rudolf Götz's regiment, presided over it. Its purpose was first of all the promotion of sociability and good-fellowship and it took its name from the rule that, in his real or imaginary tales of war, no member might, in one evening, boast of more than nine victims of his valor. In the society of these good-humored, bluff, thoroughly seasoned old warriors Hans spent his first evening in the metropolis. The next day the lieutenant showed Hans somewhat more of it, that is, he dragged him not only through taverns and pastry cook's shops but also through collections of weapons and art museums. In the evening, after they had again supped in the "Green Tree," they went to the opera and heard "Don Giovanni." The theatre alone with its richly colored life intoxicated the theologian, who at certain moments was all but overcome by the painful feeling of having missed untold experience. But when the real play on the stage went forward he was so spellbound that he himself became the "stone guest" of that evening.
After the performance the two went to a popular wine tavern frequented especially by actors, singers and writers. Among them there also appeared a certain Dr. Stein, who was making a considerable stir just then. In him Hans recognized—the lieutenant was just greeting an acquaintance in the next room—Moses Freudenstein and, much affected, went to his table to greet him. The dapper, bearded gentleman, however, seemed most embarrassed, explained to Hans that he was now Dr. Théophile Stein and begged him not to attract attention to them. He promised to explain everything to him the next day. Hans complied with his boyhood friend's request and later did not respond to the lieutenant's remark that this literary fellow and journalist, Dr. Stein, did not please him particularly and that it seemed to him as if he had already seen his face somewhere. Moses took no further notice of the two men till they were about to leave when he succeeded, after the lieutenant was already outside, in slipping his visiting card, with his address, into Hans' hand. In his room in the "Green Tree" his friend gazed at this card long and thoughtfully before he could make up his mind to go to bed.]
Almost all night long Hans Unwirrsch had to listen to all the tower clocks the strokes of which reached his pillow. He heard voices of all kinds as he lay awake. The big city sounded every passing quarter of an hour in his ear with a twelve-fold stroke. The tones came from nearby and from far away;—first came the dull bell from quite close by, then the light, clear tone that rang in the distance and sounded much like the bell in a railway station. This fine, distant little voice was followed by the sonorous rumblingof the clock on St. Nicholas' tower; and so it went on and on, one clock and bell following close on another's heels.
It was a curious thing to lie thus in a strange house, in a strange town, in a strange world, counting the hours of night and recalling his past life in an effort in some way to connect it with the mad events of the present.
What was the relation of Dr. Théophile Stein to the Moses of Kröppel Street, the Moses of theGymnasiumand of the university? Hans Unwirrsch gave up bothering his head about that. Inexplicable as this figure might be that had suddenly risen out of the ground, its outlines were yet too distinct and sharp to admit of any doubt as to its reality.
It is possible to think of many people while counting the hours in the night. We can think of living people and of dead, particularly of the latter, for the night is the time for spirits.
Hans thought of his dead,—of his mother, of her old black box where she kept her savings, of her kind, faithful eyes and of the morning on which he, returning from his sermon, had found those eyes closed. Hans thought of his father, of the shining glass globe, of his beautiful book of songs. Now, gradually all his narrow, hemmed-in childhood rose before him in the dark, and once the restless dreamer raised himself in bed believing that he heard the voices of Auntie Schlotterbeck and Uncle Grünebaum on the stairs outside. It was a closely circumscribed world, to be sure, that surrounded the candidate that night, but when morning dawned it had made him able to meet with assurance the wider world which now opened before him. Lieutenant Götz did not need to haul "his preceptor" out of bed that morning. He found him fully clothed and ready—as the lieutenant expressed it—"to offer a broad back for everything that might be laid upon it."
Thrice Lieutenant Götz walked round Unwirrsch, candidate for the ministry, and regarded him with favor.
"You look just as they do on the stage," he said as hefinished his third circle. "What is theology without black trousers? What is a preceptor without a dress coat? My word!—You're capital! A little out of fashion, but very decent! My friend, if those two beautiful black coat-tails don't please my brother Theodor, it can only be the fault of the blue handkerchief which peeps out from between them perhaps a little too impertinently to suit my fastidious sister-in-law."
Hastily Hans stuffed the handkerchief as far down into the depths of the pocket as he could, but the lieutenant cried:
"Let it hang, let it hang out boldly! That's not why I remarked upon it, upon my word. What do you care for Theodor and Kleophea; if only——"
The old man broke off; Hans did not learn at that time what was to have followed the words "if only." At a quarter past eleven he was on his way with the lieutenant to the house of the Privy Councillor Götz.
Hans had firmly declined the old soldier's advice to strengthen himself for the expedition with a glass of cognac and the lieutenant had said:
"On the whole perhaps you are right; my brother has a pretty keen nose and it might engender unjustified suspicions. Forward!"
Hans had buttoned his clerical coat awry above his beating heart. With joking irony Colonel von Bullau had waved a white handkerchief from the window of the "Green Tree;" the sun looked down from the sky at the preceptor, smiling, but not ironically. The weather left less to be desired that day than the lieutenant's humor. He talked or growled to himself the whole way; he had pulled his cap well down over his forehead and seemed to have clenched his fists in his overcoat pockets. His shortness of temper was far from being delightful and the preceptor gave a positive start when his ill-humored guide suddenly exclaimed: "Confound it, here we are already!"
First they had left the busy, noisy business quarter of thetown behind them, had wandered through a quieter, better quarter and now, by passing through a part of the park, they had reached the last row of houses in a still more elegant section which lay along the side of the park and was separated from it by driveways and riding paths. The houses in that street were approached through small gardens, well-kept even at that early season, and the lieutenant stopped before a fine iron garden gate and pointed grimly to the fine building beyond the round lawn and the empty fountain.
Grimly he pulled the bell of the garden gate, Sesame opened, and the two men walked round the lawn and the fountain. Three steps—an elaborately carved door which also seemed to open of itself—a dim, elegant hall—colored panes of glass—the sound of a grand piano—a screeching parrot somewhere in a room—a servant in green and gold on whose foot Hans Unwirrsch stepped in his confusion and who scorned to take any notice of the stammered apology—an opened door—a young lady in violet—a melodious ejaculation of pleased surprise and the young lady's clear laugh—a quarter to twelve!
"It's Uncle! Terrible Uncle! Uncle Petz! Oh what a joy! Uncle Grimbeard, above all things a kiss,mon vieux!"
The young lady in violet fell on the bearish old man's neck so suddenly that he had to endure the kiss and returned it, as it appeared, in a somewhat better humor. Then, however, he freed himself quickly from the beautiful arms, pushed the young lady in violet back and turned to his black-gowned Hans.
"This is my niece Kleophea; my niece with the pious name and the wicked heart. Beware of her, Candidate."
The candidate did not step on the beautiful young lady's foot; he bowed to her at a respectful distance and she returned his greeting not at all coldly. The changing, charming light in her eyes made a great impression on Hans in spite of his faithful Eckart's warning.
"Won't you also introduce the gentleman to me, UncleRudolf?" asked Kleophea, smiling. "You have given due publicity to my name and character; you know that you occupy the lightest and most comfortable corner in my wicked heart. Now be fair and——"
"Mr. Johannes Unwirrsch of Neustadt, candidate in theology—a young man well fitted to make spoilt young scamps of both sexes see reason,—a youth who possesses my entire approval."
"That bodes ill for you, Sir," said the young lady. "What my uncle approves of—Jean, please, for goodness sake, don't stare at us with such extraordinary intelligence, go; perhaps after all there may be some useful occupation for you somewhere or other!—is in this house often, exceedingly often, not recognized at its true worth. But you please me and I will take you under my most frivolous protection, Mr. Umquirl."
"Unwirrsch! Theological candidate Unwirrsch!" snapped the lieutenant.
"I beg your pardon. And so you are the patient gentleman whom we have so long sought in vain for our lovely, angelic Aimé? How very interesting, Mr. Rumwisch!"
"Unwirrsch!! Confound it!" shouted the lieutenant. "Is your father at home, girl?"
Kleophea nodded. "March!" commanded the old man; as Kleophea, Hans and the lieutenant ascended the stairs, Jean's wide-open rabbit-like eyes and imposing whiskers appeared again in the hall where their indignant possessor was waiting impatiently for the carriage containing his mistress who would certainly be also much interested in the news that the tutor, accompanied by Lieutenant Götz, had arrived.
Kleophea mounted the stairs at Hans' side; her uncle followed them growling.
Twelve steps! At the thirteenth the stairs turned to the right and when, in the corridor above, Hans looked round for the lieutenant the latter had disappeared. The candidate stood alone with Kleophea and she was much amused at the confused tutor.
"Why, where is he? Where can he be?" she said laughing. "Don't you know that side of him yet? He has delivered you here and has disappeared like an old bearded magician. The magic coach has turned into an empty nut-shell, the horses are mice now and have run to their holes; you might as well give up looking about you, Mr. Unwirrsch. It is highly probable that my uncle has gone to find my cousin Franziska. So now you are left entirely to yourself and to me;—here is my Papa's room; I shall take much pleasure in introducing you. Without flattery, I am very well pleased with you and I hope that we shall not embitter each other's lives in this house."
As she looked at him while she spoke the last words Hans was quite unable to beware of her as the lieutenant had so emphatically advised him. Her brown eyes possessed a magic power of the first rank and if Circe's glance was at all like this it was no wonder that Gryllus would rather be a pig in her service than be a cook in the service of Odysseus.
But the door opened. Kleophea led the tutor through a sumptuous drawing room into another room full of books and cabinets for documents. Hans bowed three times toward an extensive table covered with green cloth on which lay still more books and documents. A gentleman sat behind the table and on being greeted rose from his chair, grew taller, taller, ever taller—thin, black, shadowy—and finally stood there behind his papers, long, thin and black, buttoned up to his white tie like a sign-post bearing the warning: no laughter here.
But Kleophea laughed nevertheless.
"Candidate Unwirrsch, Papa," said she; Hans bowed again and the Privy Councillor Götz cleared his throat, seemed to regret very much that he had risen, yet remained standing, now that he had once got up, and put his right arm rapidly behind his back, an action which in everyone except Hans would have aroused the suspicion that he was pressing a spring, or turning a screw, or pulling a string.
Whatever he was trying to do with the two buttons on the back of his coat, the result was a poor imitation of one of the six theological bows.
"Candidate Unwirrsch," said Kleophea repeating her introduction, while her father seemed to deliberate in privy council how he should receive the tutor. At last he made up his mind and said:
"I see the gentleman, have expected him indeed for the last ten minutes and now extend my welcome to him. Is my wife, your mother, at home, dear Kleophea?"
"No, Papa."
"Most regrettable! Mr. Unwirrsch, I hope that a longer and nearer acquaintance will bring us closer together. Kleophea, when will my wife, your mother, return?"
"I can't say, Papa. You know that it is seldom possible to say definitely as to that."
There was a sound of whirring in the Privy Councillor and he cleared his throat ponderously. Hans Unwirrsch thought the time appropriate to announce his firm desire to make himself as useful as possible and to perform his difficult, but at the same time grateful, duties to the best of his ability. He thanked the Councillor for the confidence which he placed in a stranger and voluntarily promised in no way to prove unworthy of it.
While he was speaking the Privy Councillor had again reached behind him, set his mechanism in motion and had sunk slowly down into his chair behind his heap of papers. It is doubtful whether he was meditating deeply on the new tutor's words or whether he had not heard them at all; but truly magical was the way in which he jumped up again when the golden green lackey suddenly appeared in the room and announced that his mistress had just returned and wished to see and speak to the new tutor at once.
"Go, Jean, and tell my wife that I will bring Mr. Unwirrsch to her immediately. My dear Kleophea, will you not precede us?"
Jean bowed and went; Kleophea shrugged her shoulders, smiled as she did so and also went. When they had both gone a miracle took place—the Privy Councillor took hold of the tutor by a coat button, drew him close to him and whispered:
"It is my wish that you should remain in this house; as far as I can judge after this preliminary acquaintance with your person and status, you please me very well. I wish that you might also please my wife. Do your part to that end, and now come."
The Privy Councillor now led the tutor across the drawing room through which he had entered to the room on the opposite side, at the door of which another noticeable change came over the man. The springs inside him seemed suddenly to lose their elasticity, the wheels and wires refused to work, his whole figure seemed to grow smaller,—the Privy Councillor knocked at his wife's door and seemed to feel a desire to peep through the keyhole first, or at least to listen at it. A moment later Hans Unwirrsch stood before the—Mistress of the House.
He saw a stately lady in black with an aquiline nose and a double chin—as solemn as a starless night; she sat on a dark divan behind a table covered with dark drapery! The whole apartment made a solemn impression—every chair and seat an altar of dignity. Serious, chaste, solemn and dignified were walls, ceiling and rugs, pictures and curtains—everything in stately order and regularity except the seven-year-old, coffee-colored, puffy little brat who at sight of the tutor raised a horrible, detestable, furious howl and attacked Hans Unwirrsch's legs with a toy whip.
"Oh, Aimé, what a way to behave!" said the lady in black. "Come to me, my darling, don't excite yourself so. Kleophea, won't you take the little whip away from the child?"
Again Kleophea shrugged her shoulders.
"No thank you, Mama. Aimé and I——"
"Be silent, now;" the Councillor's wife cried with a gesture. "I know very well what you want to say. Look here, my little lamb, see what I will give you for your whip."
The charming child could not resist the box of sweets; he put his instrument of torture into his mother's hands and she thus received the last touch that completed her imposing appearance.
With the whip in her hand the lady of the house now devoted herself entirely to the new tutor. She subjected him to a severe examination and asked for the most detailed information about the "conduct" of his life. The morals and dogmas of the young man to whom such a precious jewel was to be entrusted were very important to her and not all her questions could be answered without causing her to wrinkle her brow. On the whole, however, the examination ended favorably for the candidate and the conclusion was even very satisfactory.
"I am glad to be able to hope that your work in this house will be blessed. You will find that the Lord has led you under a strictly Christian roof. You will find that the seeds of faith have already been sown in the heart of this sensitive little angel. Under my special, maternal supervision you will be able to aid all the beautiful blossoms in this young heart to unfold and the Lord will bless your work. With a humble and simple heart you will work among us here and will not allow yourself to be led astray by any worldly laughter and mockery (at this point a glance and an imaginary blow with the whip struck her beautiful daughter Kleophea). Aimé, my little rosebud, you may give your hand to Mr. Unwirrsch now and say 'how do you do?'"
The little rosebud must have misunderstood this permission. Instead of giving his tutor his hand he showed him something else and began again to howl and scream in the terrible manner we have described. When Hans dared to approach him he kicked him on the shins, so that withpainful feelings he withdrew and at a safe distance expressed the hope that he and Aimé might soon become more intimate with each other.
"I hope so too," said Mrs. Götz. "I hope that you will try your best to gain my boy's love and affection. It is easy to win a child's love by a simple and humble manner. Oh, what a treasure I am laying in your hands, Mr. Unwirrsch! Oh, my sensitive little lamb, my Aimé!"
The Privy Councillor had not spoken a word throughout the proceedings. He stood there and apparently approved, at least externally, of everything. No sign betrayed what he may have felt within; in the presence of his wife the good man had learnt silently to possess his soul in patience.
Kleophea had disappeared altogether. What she was doing behind the window curtain where she had hidden herself remained as great a secret as her father's feelings. The tutor's feelings were not of the pleasantest. He looked into the future with apprehension and confessed to himself sighingly that even Kohlenau had had its charms. He felt himself surrounded by an atmosphere which furthered perspiration and at the same time checked it. With no immoderate sense of gratitude he thought of Lieutenant Rudolf Götz, who had procured for him the honor and pleasure of entering this house as an educator. The puzzling disappearance of the man at the most important moment and on the stairs also admitted of no favorable interpretation; Hans Unwirrsch began to think of him as a crafty character; the faithful Eckart was transformed into a deceptive will-o'-the-wisp which suddenly went out in the middle of the swamp. Beneath the gaze of the mistress of the house, Aurelia Götz,néevon Lichtenhahn, Hans Unwirrsch sank slowly but surely into the depths and neither from behind the window curtain nor from behind the Privy Councillor's back did a helping hand appear.
It was from another direction that a hand brought aid.
"Where is Franziska?" asked Mrs. Götz. Kleophea behind the curtain did not know; the Privy Councillor did not know either.
"Please, Mr. Unwirrsch, will you be kind enough to ring the bell?" asked Mrs. Götz and Hans' eyes sought it. But just at the moment when he had found it the door opened which led from the drawing room into Mrs. Götz's apartment and a small, insignificant figure in a gray, insignificant gown stepped into the room with downcast eyes;—Hans Unwirrsch did not ring. During the last half hour he had not thought of Franziska Götz.
"Oh, here you are, Franziska," cried Mrs. Götz. "My niece, Miss Götz, Mr. Unwirrsch!" she added briefly, at the same time looking, if possible, more stately and more like a glacier than before. "Have Mr. Unwirrsch shown to his room, my child; we have received him into our household."
Franziska Götz bowed in silence and, as she passed Hans inaudibly, she raised her eyes to him only to drop them again instantly.
"Won't you follow my niece, Mr. Unwirrsch," said Mrs. Götz laying down the whip. Hans made another bow of which this time no notice was taken; he also bowed to the Privy Councillor, whose mechanism moved at least a little bit and, as the window curtain now moved slightly, Hans bowed to it as well; then he followed Lieutenant Rudolf's Fränzchen and, once in the corridor, allowed himself to draw a deep, yet cautious, breath of relief.
There stood the majestic servant again, whose whiskers seemed to swell the longer you looked at him. He looked over his liveried shoulder at the "new tutor" with legitimate contempt and manifested only a doubtful inclination to show the ungenteel starveling his way.
But Fräulein Franziska Götz too looked doubtfully at the man in green and gold, then turned to Hans and said softly:
"If you will be good enough to go with me I will show you your room."
Her voice was soft, gentle and low, "an excellent thingin woman" as old King Lear said, and at its sound Jean turned on his heels and walked away with unbent knees, quite superior and quite convinced that he knew how to maintain the dignity of his position.
"Oh, Miss Götz, how strangely fate has brought us together again and how thankful I am for that!" cried Hans; but the girl laid her finger on her lips and whispered:
"I have seen my Uncle Rudolf—have talked to him—he has told me about you. Oh, my poor, faithful, dear Uncle Rudolf!"
She stopped speaking but Hans Unwirrsch saw a tear on her lashes; he did not dare to address her again but followed her silently up to the second floor of the house. At the bottom of his soul he said: "God be praised!" He must have had some reason to say so.
"Here is your room," said Franziska, unlocking a door. "May you pass glad and happy hours in it. That is my sincere wish and my Uncle Rudolf's too, who seems to be very fond of you."
"How much I thank you, and how much I thank your uncle. All this that he has done for me is so undeserved. It is like a dream the way he has taken my fortunes into his hand and led me into this house."
"He has often spoken of you since the evening when we met at that inn. I was so troubled at that time, so unhappy. Oh, good Uncle Rudolf, he has guided my poor life too. Oh, if you only knew him through and through, Mr. Unwirrsch!"
"I hope to learn to know him and appreciate his full worth!" cried Hans. "If I stay long enough in this house——"
Franziska again laid her fingers on her lips as if frightened.
"You must not talk so much about Uncle Rudolf in this house," she said. "My Aunt does not like him. It is very sad."
"Oh!" sighed Hans Unwirrsch and a moment later theLieutenant's Fränzchen had left him alone in his new quarters. He could look at them more closely and gaze out the window after he had examined the four walls and the furniture. There was nothing extraordinary about the blue-papered walls, the four chairs, the table, the hat-tree, the little sofa and the little round cast-iron stove; but the view from the window was not so easily forgotten.
In the middle of the lawn the fountain was now playing merrily with a shining brass ball. There was the ornamental iron fence which separated the Privy Councillor's property from the public street of the big city. There was something wonderful to Hans Unwirrsch in the view of this promenade with its throng of carriages, riders and pedestrians and he waited in vain for the variegated stream to come to an end. And there, beyond the driveway, riding and foot paths, was the wood-like park with its long straight avenues into which one looked as into a peep-show. And how beautiful that must all be when the trees were green! Truly, the hope of this green to come was in itself some consolation for the grayness of the present.
The porter from the "Green Tree" now came with a greeting from Lieutenant Götz and brought the tutor his traveling bag, thus tearing him away from his observations at the window. He would have to write to the manager in Kohlenau for the things he had left behind there. As Hans laid a Greek pocket edition of the New Testament on the table a card fell out of it on which could be read in fine steel engraving:
Dr. Théophile Stein,25 Hedwig Street.
Hans Unwirrsch had no more time to dream; he had to think and deliberate as well as he could with his mind baffled by an entanglement of persons and mutual relationships. Moses Freudenstein and Franziska Götz, Franziska andthe mistress of the house, the mistress of the house and Kleophea, the Privy Councillor, Jean in green and gold;—bellum omnium contra omnes, and Hans Unwirrsch,Candidatus theologiæand tutor in the midst of them all! That was a state of affairs in which a man was certainly justified in putting his hand to his forehead like some one who has been turned round many times in a circle blindfolded and after the bandage has been removed feels by no means steady on his feet and knows still less what to think of his surroundings.
Hans Unwirrsch, too, felt irresistibly the need of winding up some of the springs in his being and tightening some of the screws. He read a chapter in the New Testament and followed that with a page in a pocket edition of Epictetus. He was then able to meet the stately Jean's eyes with greater composure when the latter came to call him to dinner and let fall the remark that it was customary to wear white gloves to that function.
For the first time Hans partook of bread and salt with his new associates in life. Again he had to answer many questions in regard to his preëxistence and it appeared that in that preëxistence many of the things that came onto the table were unknown. Mrs. Götz still remained a born von Lichtenhahn, the Privy Councillor remained what he was; Kleophea smiled and shrugged her shoulders, Aimé was very unamiable, and Fränzchen sat at the lower end of the table next to the candidate Hans Unwirrsch.
[Hans soon learned how things went on in the Privy Councillor's house. The sovereign power lay in the hands of the mistress of the house. Aurelia Götz,néevon Lichtenhahn, swayed the sceptre with a strong hand. She ruledarbitrarily up to the boundaries of Kleophea's realm. To the tutor Kleophea herself appeared to be a wonder. Unusually beautiful and talented she drew and painted, played the piano, sang and read several languages, with preference French and whatever she should not have read. At five o'clock teas she loved to speak to pious ladies of Boccaccio and theDecameron, to the vexation of her Mamma. Kleophea hated her Mamma because of the name she had received from the latter at her baptism and against which she had always protested. Much in the development of her character was due to this name and her opposition to it. She declared her brother to be a "horrid toad" and he scarcely dared show himself in her presence. This did not improve her relations with her mother. She had hoped to find an ally in her cousin but soon pronounced her to be a "lamb." Still, she could not make an absolute slave of her. She treated her now as a confidant, now as the opposite, caressed her one day and pushed her brusquely aside the next. Franziska was not well treated by her aunt. The latter had not been friends either with "the despised, godless freebooter and Jacobite" Felix, or with "the careless beggar and ill-mannered vagabond" Rudolf. She had been glad, however, to take the orphan into her house; the town talked of it, and she, too, was able to make it the subject of conversation. The tutor was allowed to instruct the "sweet Aimé" only under the eyes of his mother and this caused the teacher to sweat more than the pupil.
One day, when Aimé was ill from overstudy, that is, from over-eating, Hans sought out Dr. Théophile Stein. In answer to his knock a pretty, laughing young lady with very black hair and a rather uptilted nose opened the door. Behind this merry girl Théophile appeared, somewhat annoyed and embarrassed, though he smiled when he recognized Hans and said: "Oh, it's you, come in." The lady put on her dainty, rosy little hat in front of the glass, threw the candidate a kiss and the words: "Bon jour, monsieur lecuré" and slipped out as gracefully as a bird. Dr. Stein followed her into the passage and for some time after Hans heard her joyful laughter. Then her clear voice cried: "Traître, va!" and Moses came back into the room. He explained that this little full-blooded Parisian was a poor orphan, a little maker of trimmings to whom he had shown many kindnesses in Paris and who had now come to town to try her luck in working for the ladies there. He questioned Hans about his life and listened attentively when he heard that he was tutor in the house of Privy Councillor Götz. He called Hans an enviable fellow to be able to live under the same roof as the beautiful Kleophea Götz and asked if he might come to see him there. He told of how he had had fencing lessons from Franziska Götz's father, a drunkard and rather acanaille, and that he had often protected the girl from hunger and perhaps other misfortune. After the old freebooter had died of delirium tremens he had taken care of the unhappy girl until the arrival of her uncle from Germany. Of course he was a Jew and received the usual reward. The young lady thought that he had exceeded his bounds. When he had tried to defend himself he had been insulted and scorned. It was the old story of the gratitude of the world. Thus in Hans' eyes he cleared himself of the lieutenant's accusations. He objected strongly to being called Moses, said that his name was now Théophile Stein, that he had forsworn the faith of his fathers and had become a Christian, a Roman Catholic, and that he might soon become a lecturer on the Semitic languages at the university. All these revelations gave Hans plenty to think about on his way home.
For some time after that everything remained as it was. The tutor did his duty as well as he could; Mrs. Götz became more and more convinced that unfortunately he too possessed a most obstinate and deceitful character. Kleophea discovered a new name for Franziska, called herl'eau dormanteand drew caricatures of Hans. Franziska'sstep remained as inaudible as before and her kindly care-filled face seldom brightened into a smile; nothing whatever was heard of the lieutenant; he had disappeared and gave no sign of life. The person least spoken of in the Privy Councillor's house was the Privy Councillor.
During this time the soul of the theological candidate, Johannes Unwirrsch of Kröppel Street, was in an extraordinary state. He stood in the centre of the life for which he had longed so much; he had stepped down and the great roar had dissolved into single voices and tones and the voices that he heard around him were more harsh and evil than loving. He felt less satisfied than ever and was obliged to confess to himself that he had not as yet acquired an understanding of this world. Once for all he belonged to those happily unhappy natures who have to solve every contradiction that meets them. It was simply that he had that hunger for the symmetry and harmony of all things which so few people understand, which is so hard to satisfy and is never completely satisfied except in death.
In addition to all his other troubles Hans had much ado to defend himself against the charm that Kleophea exercised over him.
Franziska was quieter than ever. In the meantime the signs of returning spring multiplied. Dr. Théophile Stein paid his first visit to the Privy Councillor's tutor and was very winning and very amiable. He listened to every noise in the house, asked all sorts of questions about the tutor's life there, asked about the architecture of the house; the position and furnishings of the rooms on the first floor, about the pictures on the walls and the service in the kitchen. He was not uninterested in the sympathies of the Privy Councillor's wife and still less so in her antipathies. He asked for detailed information about Aimé as well as about the master of the house. At last he had finished, inwardly shut up his note-book and succeeded by a clever winding-up in convincing poor Hans that he had only asked all these questions out of interest in the fate and present life of the companion of his youth.
Mrs. Götz had of course heard of the visit and, at the dinner table, asked about this Dr. Stein, who was much talked of in town at the moment, and who was said to be very gifted and much traveled. At that Hans began to speak out of the fullness of his heart and told everything about Moses Freudenstein that he could tell. He praised his kind heart, clever head and scholarliness and unfortunately did not notice what a start the lieutenant's Fränzchen gave when she learnt who had that day been in the house in which she had sought protection.
Hans said nothing of the merry French orphan as, when he was on the point of leaving, Dr. Stein had modestly and laughingly begged him not to mention her. The following day Franziska did not appear at the table; she was not well. She was obliged to keep her bed for a whole week and, for the first time Hans had the opportunity of noticing what a gap her absence made. Suddenly the idea came into his mind that his speech at the table about Moses Freudenstein might be the cause of the poor child's illness and this thought sent all the blood rushing to his heart so violently that he was scarcely able to breathe. The same morning the mistress of the house sent for him to come to her room where he found his friend Théophile Stein,aliasMoses Freudenstein, sitting beside Mrs. Götz, opposite Kleophea, with little Aimé on his knee. Another older man was sitting there too.
"Oh, here he is—the hunger pastor!" exclaimed Dr. Stein, thus giving our Hans his title officially. "Wake up, Johannes, it is I in the flesh."
Dr. Stein spoke easily and with polish and Dr. Blüthemüller, lecturer on esthetics, made very fine, but quite academic speeches, about the art of living beautifully.
After he had emptied his horn of plenty the lady of the house opened hers. With sighing pathos she gave her views on the way to find Christian, esthetic peace in God. She raved about the way of the saints of God, and about old Italian pictures of virgins looking up to heaven, of martyrs and donors.
Full of perfidy Dr. Stein asked the friend of his youth whether he had seen the pictures of which Mrs. Götz spoke. Hans had seen them, but unfortunately he said what he thought about them, thereby incurring the displeasure of the lady of the house. Dr. Stein then entertained the little circle with an excellent discussion of the Pre-Raphaelites and showed his erudition, experience in art, and knowledge of the world to the most brilliant advantage. He illumined all sides of life with clever remarks; and in the great art of polishing up the mediocre, or even silly remarks of those from whom he wanted to obtain something and then giving them back their property with a bow, he was past-master. He knew how all kinds of fish were caught and began by catching Mrs. Privy Councillor Götz,néevon Lichtenhahn, but while he was pulling his catch ashore he did not lose sight of the golden scales and purple fins that still flashed about free in the water.
As Dr. Théophile Stein had expected, Hans knocked at his door several times, to call him to account, but received no answer or else was told that Dr. Stein was not at home.
When the lieutenant's Fränzchen came out of her little room again she had become even quieter than before and although her behavior to the rest of the household was as usual it made Hans feel the more deeply and painfully that she was not the same to him as she had been. He knew the reason well and yet was unable to ask whether what Moses Freudenstein had said about her father was true. He watched her with strained anxiety and never failed to hear her softest footstep nor a single tone of her sweet voice.
To the same degree that the brilliant Kleophea lost her influence over him Franziska won hers.
Dr. Théophile Stein repeated his visit without Professor Blüthemüller, and Hans was not invited again to be present in the drawing room. Dr. Stein did not blush when Franziska came into the room and, at the sight of him, suddenly started and turned pale. He retained his composure when he was introduced to her and merely spoke coolly of already having had the pleasure of meeting Fräulein Götz in Paris. This declaration caused Mrs. Götz and her husband much surprise and astonishment.
After Franziska had left the room Mrs. Götz asked for an explanation of this curious circumstance and Dr. Stein expatiated on how sorry he was to have recalled to Fräulein Götz such painful memories. He went on to tell his tale, and he was a good story-teller; and his sonorous voice was well-fitted tenderly to emphasize all tragic nuances. It was the same tale that Hans had heard but adapted to another audience. This time he took a most sympathetic interest in this family misfortune and was able thoroughly to understand what Mrs. Götz must have suffered on account of her brother-in-law's wretched life and death.
After a time Kleophea came skipping into the room. She brought sunshine with her and youthful spirits; her eyes shone, her red lips laughed, she scarcely touched the floor with her feet. She greeted Dr. Stein with enchanting irony; she was just in the mood to hurt the feelings of her fellowmen with small, perfidious insinuations and expressed a great thirst for knowledge in regard to certain Mosaic customs and laws. Dr. Théophile was more than equal to her. He talked about the Jews with dramatic pathos, he knew how to make the best use of the heroes and martyrs his race had produced. He even succeeded in making of Kleophea a close and attentive listener.
He was able to leave with a humbly proud bow and to be satisfied with the success of his visit. He was now what hewanted to be—a friend of the family. From now on, without suffering any detriment to his bodily or spiritual welfare, he could receive the visits of Candidate Hans Unwirrsch.
Spring had come in all its beauty, but it did not bring Hans Unwirrsch the consolation he had hoped. The lower he sank in the favor and esteem of the Privy Councillor's wife the less she left him to himself. And Fränzchen, Fränzchen Götz? What had she to do with his great hunger for knowledge, for the world and life? What had she to do with his disappointments? In everything she penetrated into the innermost recesses of his heart. It was impossible to think of Auntie Schlotterbeck, or even of Uncle Grünebaum without Franziska, Lieutenant Rudolf Götz's niece. She sat in the low, dark room in Neustadt and in the magically shining glass globe, she sat in the sunshine in the Neustadt cemetery beside his mother's and father's grave.
The great sea of the world had tried to roll between them but it did not separate them; they greeted each other in silence, in silence they took their places beside each other; the poisonous shade of the son of Samuel Freudenstein, the second-hand dealer of Kröppel Street, lay between them.
Hans again sought out Dr. Théophile and for the second time he met the French orphan who owed so much to Théophile. This time she passed him with lowered head. She no longer skipped and laughed but leant heavily on the banister and her head was sunk very low. She looked very pale and had lost much of her former elegance.
Théophile answered all the questions that Hans put to him and allowed himself to be catechized but the manner in which he justified himself left much for an honest and pious nature to desire. Finally he confessed quite openly that it was his intention to become a councillor in the cabinet of his Majesty, the King, and to try to win the affection and later the little hand of Kleophea Götz.
From now on Dr. Stein came to the house of the Privy Councillor's wife daily, and daily she received him with a more cordial smile. He read with the ladies of the house, he drove with them, and there were many people in the city who envied Mrs. Götz this interesting acquaintance, for the doctor was a man whose reputation was growing mightily. It could be heard growing. He gave lectures before a select audience of both sexes on "The Rights and Duties of Human Society" and the exclusive, elegant fraction of humanity for whom these lectures were prepared was much pleased with them. They delighted Mrs. Götz, but the objections that Kleophea raised gave the doctor the desired opportunity to throw a hundred shining nooses about her rebellious self. He talked to her in a very different way from what he did to her mother. He spoke of things which might give him a claim to a "world of sighs." He used his descent and gloomy youth to good advantage and was elegiac. He was wisely silent as to how easy his father had made his way in the world; he had overcome all obstacles through the strength of his own manhood and courage. He wore his shirt collarà laByron and insinuated that he—"lord of himself; that heritage of woe!"—had not always trodden the straight path, that there were depths, dark, unfathomable depths in his bosom into which he could not look without becoming giddy. It was night within him but he had not yet lost his hunger for the light and that was the only reason that he was still able to mix with the living without being crippled by the burden of existence.
Never in all her life had Kleophea been as silent as she became at this time.
No change had taken place in Fränzchen's relations with Hans. Lieutenant Rudolf still did not appear.
In order not to worry the old people at home Hans had always written them that he was well off, very well off.But he was not well off! He could not get out of the magic circle that fate had drawn around him. He felt that the time was not far distant when he would hate Moses Freudenstein, when he would love Franziska Götz and he was constantly fleeing from his own thoughts. Poor Hans Unwirrsch was far from being well off. Gradually he began to feel physically ill, suffered from dizziness and headache and became more melancholy from day to day. He no longer had any hunger for anything except to open his whole heart to Fränzchen.
One Saturday afternoon Candidate Unwirrsch received a package from Neustadt containing two presents and letters from Auntie Schlotterbeck and Uncle Grünebaum. His uncle complained that things were going miserably with him, that he was growing older every day, that his digestion refused to work, that his eyes had gone back on him and that he had sat down on his spectacles the day before yesterday. The "Red Ram" had changed hands and had lost its attractiveness and even politics were no longer what they used to be.
Auntie Schlotterbeck wrote full of solicitude for Hans' welfare and warned him again and again against Moses Freudenstein, who was a bad man, as old Esther and Professor Fackler too declared. When Hans had done reading these letters he had to hold his head with both hands; it seemed to him to be bursting. He wanted to open the window but could not;——he was ill, so ill that all his painful feelings dissolved into the nothingness of unconsciousness and then passed over into delirium.
Hans Unwirrsch had inflammation of the brain and for several days was near death; but he saw visions during this illness which were not bought too dear by all the pain that he suffered. Dr. Théophile Stein was among them.
It was on the second day after the fever had broken out. Théophile was alone with the sick man and believed himself unobserved. At Mrs. Götz's desire he had come to see "what the young man was doing." Hans' mind was allconfusion but his delirious fantasies were interrupted by strange moments of clearness. Théophile was very curious, as we know, and liked to poke about in other people's things and affairs, nor did he think it indiscreet to look into drawers that stood open and at unsealed letters that lay there. He took Auntie Schlotterbeck's letter during the perusal of which the illness had overtaken Hans and read, first with pleasure and then with his teeth on his lower lip, what she had written about him. "Absurdly original!" he said, "but still the duffer might become an inconvenience; it will be best to get him out of the house. Look out for yourself, my dear Hans!" He went over to the sick man's bed. So utterly out of his mind did he believe poor Hans to be that he thought it quite unnecessary to lay any restraint upon himself. But he was mistaken: Hans saw clearly, quite clearly, horribly clearly. Between life and death, consciousness and unconsciousness, knowledge came to him in a flash. He saw Théophile's eyes shining like those of an evil spirit rejoicing in his misfortune. All the heartlessness of him whom he had once called his friend was revealed in those eyes, in that smile. For the first time in his life Hans felt what hatred is. He wanted to shriek aloud and jump up but he could only reach the other with his eyes. Théophile Stein started; he smiled no more; Hans sank again into the delirium of fever but he took with him the certainty that he had gained an irreconcilable enemy.
When he again came to himself many a day had passed. He saw two other figures beside his bed of pain. At the foot sat Privy Councillor Götz, tired and careworn, and beside him stood Franziska—Fränzchen, sympathetic and gentle and with tears in her eyes. And Fränzchen had no idea how distinctly the sick man saw at that moment. She took no pains whatever to control her features. And she started very much, did Fränzchen, and blushed hotly when she suddenly noticed that Hans was awake and could see. Hans closed his eyes and when he opened them again—hecould not tell just how long after that was—these two figures also were no longer there.
But the sun had risen in Hans Unwirrsch's soul; he knew that he should not die, and knew something much more important than that. There was great rejoicing in his hungry soul and it did not matter a bit that his senses left him once more; everything was now right.
Eventually the day came when the tutor, very lean and somewhat dizzy, went downstairs into the drawing room to thank Mrs. Götz and Kleophea for all their kindness. On the following day the mistress of the house had a second interview with the candidate and expressed the desire that the arrangement between them should come to an end by Christmas Day. She gave it as her opinion that Mr. Unwirrsch's influence on her son could not be regarded as entirely beneficial.
Utterly confused and benumbed Hans staggered back to his room only able to murmur the name "Franziska."]
Much had changed for the worse during the illness of Candidate Unwirrsch. It was only slowly that he came to realize how the conditions in the house of the Privy Councillor Götz had shifted and become more complicated; but at the first glance he saw with a start that autumn had come. The lawn and the paths under the trees of the park were already covered with fallen leaves; the park itself began to look like a ragged rug with many moths in it; it might almost have been regarded as fortunate that Hans had no time to think about this.
Dr. Théophile Stein had won a complete victory over the beautiful and spirited girl, Kleophea. She loved this man with all the passion of which a nature like hers was capable. It required very delicate perception to discern the fire that glowed beneath a soil so gay with flowers, but it was thereand for the moment it made the garden bloom with even greater brilliance;—it was very sad, it was a matter for tears!
Since Hans had been on his feet again the Privy Councillor had become as unapproachable to him as he had formerly been; his wife had spoken and he—submitted to this higher power. Hans realized that this man could not avert the danger that threatened his house and that no warning could help, perhaps might even do harm and make the matter worse. So cleverly had Théophile prepared his way with the Privy Councillor's wife that not the slightest assistance was to be looked for in that direction; and Kleophea, proud, magnificent Kleophea would have repulsed with the deepest scorn any attempt to interfere in these, her most private, intimate affairs. She had laughed too often with Théophile at the "Hunger Pastor" to allow herself to be warned by the latter. Duplicity and impudent egoism, lamentable weakness, obstinate stupidity and pharisaical arrogance, frivolity, conceit, exuberant wantonness, scorn and mockery on all sides;—it was indeed a world to make one hunger, hunger for innocence, for loyalty, for gentleness, for love.
Oh, Fränzchen, Fränzchen Götz, what a sweet, gentle light surrounded your chaste figure in the midst of this grimacing throng! Where else could peace, refuge and rest be found but with you? Oh, Fränzchen, Fränzchen, how could it be that you caused poor Hans such strange pain? How could it be that you had to bear such strange pain on his account? How could you both torment each other so and moreover entirely against the will and the good intentions of Lieutenant Rudolf Götz?
Alas, Lieutenant Rudolf had no place in the council of Providence either, he was often hard pressed enough himself; destiny takes its own course and every time of trial must come to an end in its own way in this hungry turmoil of life.