The sunset was premature, and a sensation of evil portent lay over land and sea. The surf broke more impetuously down below, it was the last echo of a distant storm that beneath the heavy clouds of night winged its flight seawards.
How strange was the chattering of the waves upon the shore, and their varied dance. The one dashes upward like a spring of life in vernal green, while the next, heavy as a blue-black monster of the night, rushes over it, and in the whirling foam the lights of the evening sky are blended in a nosegay of tints, which the one wave offers to the other, and which the recipient scatters ruthlessly in the breakers which expire upon the sand of the shore.
There, see--a boat leaves the strand, and floats over the foam in the surf.
Two girls sit within it; Blanden has recognised Eva.
How can she, who has barely recovered from a fever, venture out on the evening tide?
And how she sits there, pale, deadly pale, her hands folded, staring into the waves.
Then the sun suddenly breaks through the clouds once more, and sheds a bright rosy radiance upon her features.
Ave Maria! She resembles the Virgin in the picture, gliding in a boat over the silent mountain lake, and while the bells are pealing in the churches on the coast, folds her hands.
But here no bells are ringing--here no Ave Maria is sounded--half-witted Kätchen rows them out to sea.
Does she not perceive the stormy clouds on the horizon?
But the voice from the heights above can still reach the women sailors, and with all his might Blanden cries--
"Eva!" and, in a warning tone, he calls it once again.
She has heard it; she turns to the other side of the boat, she stretches her arms out towards that summit, and then presses them firmly upon her heart; her looks hang as if spell-bound upon the tall oaks, and upon the figure of that friend who stands beneath them.
But Kätchen rows on; no sign from Eva bids her turn the skiff; like a rigid marble statue Eva stands erectly in the boat.
What her eyes speak he cannot see at that distance; perhaps fresh tears are wrung from them; but he can see that she remains motionless, that no desire to turn hastily fills her soul. It is not the obstinacy of the idiot sailor girl that guides the skiff ever farther out into the sea; it is the mute, proud will of the other, who rejects all chance of meeting him.
Can he follow her then, as he once followed her, when he conquered the bride with daring corsair courage?
Is that figure, pale as marble, the same as that of the blooming girl, who, once adorned with the wreath of woodland flowers, greeted him with merry smiles?
Between then and now lies an abyss--that campanula had withered in his hands, old love had become new guilt.
He had no longer the right to follow her; only with his eyes, with his spirit he followed the retreating skiff, until the girls' figures, became smaller and smaller, the boat dwindled shapelessly into a speck, to lose itself entirely in the distant atmosphere in the shadow of the clouds.
It is true that lightning quivered on the horizon, but Blanden felt no anxiety about the breaking of a storm. Half-witted Kätchen understood the skies and the earth, and if she ventured fearlessly farther over the waves, no coming terror, no storm, no hurricane could be expected; then one might be sure that the herd of fiery flashes would remain upon the horizon, and the tempest clouds not flood the heavens.
The boat had, despite his spectacles, long since disappeared from Wegen's short sight, when, by straining every nerve, Blanden's eye still clung firmly to the floating speck in the distance.
"We must have patience until they return," said his friend, lighting himself a cigar, "the girl is thoughtless thus to venture out to sea. The evenings are too cool for a convalescent. Frau Regierungsräthin keeps a negligent watch over her."
Louder became the breaking of the waves upon the shore, higher rose the sea. Blanden gazed impatiently into the distance. Will the boat not return? He felt as though he must jump into the skiff that lay below on the strand, and row after the girl.
Oppressive sultriness pervaded nature; through a gap in the broad bank of clouds the glow of the parting sun became visible once more. A shower of golden sparks fell into the ocean, for which the waves seemed to struggle, soon again increasing night spread her wings over it.
Blanden felt oppressed, why he knew not his friend chatted all the more briskly.
"We will live right comfortably together in our Masuren wilderness, for I am seriously inclined to make a home, and then you shall visit me every day. It is true I was always afraid on account of the cooking:--next to love that is the principal thing, and I am convinced that a bad dinner would make me angry with my wife for the whole day, even if I loved her as Romeo does his Juliet. Every one has his own ideal at some time, and a sweetheart or wife must be found in the perihelion of that ideal, else the transfiguring halo is wanting around her; but I should prefer to be buried in the vault of the Capulets to having an unpalatable joint or fish in some impracticable sauce set before me by a Juliet. Well, do you see my friend, it is true that even by the most cunning insinuations I have not been able to find out what my Cäcilie thinks of the culinary art, and if our natures meet in unanimity upon this important point; as yet also I have seen and tasted no practical proofs of her possession of this gift, and the worst is, I am convinced that Frau von Dornau's cuisine offers no opportunity for the development of artistic talents, and that it does not extend beyond the most simple requirements of the needs of the inner man; because, according to General Montecuculi's views, cooking, like war, needs money, money and ever again money, and Frau von Dornau's pension, according to my unprejudiced calculation, suffices at the outside for potatoes, grey peas, and occasionally fish. On the other hand I am firmly convinced that my Cäcilie in the kitchen would always find herself equal to the situation, if her finances permitted her brilliant supplies; to a mind like hers the importance of the culinary art for human life, and especially for mine, cannot remain unknown, and if she does not quite understand the tactics of the roasting-spit, and the strategy of the bill of fare, she has sense enough to select a proper talented kitchen adjutant, and it is quite immaterial whether the field-marshal or his adjutant gain the victory, so long as it be gained. I then crown my wife with the kitchen-laurels, which I do not estimate so lowly as though its leaves were only fitted for the preparation of a boar's head, and in that laurel wreath I entwine the most beautiful myrtle of love, and the olive-branch of domestic peace."
To this complacent communication, which might at the same time claim the merit of being a soliloquy, speaking the deepest thoughts of his mind, Blanden only listened with abstracted understanding; his glance rested inadvertently upon the misty horizon.
A steamboat passed by; its column of smoke disappeared in a heavy, lowering cloud; here and there a white sail became visible that lost itself out at sea, and at last only appeared like a streak of chalk upon a black wall.
Flashes of lightning chased one another like eagles at play, and growling on the horizon announced the awaking of the storm that tossed itself hither and thither in its dense, dark cradle of clouds.
Blanden's anxiety waxed stronger; his confidence in the idiot girl's instinct diminished. Could not the weather-wise determination of that child of Nature fail for once?
There, see! The black speck appeared again on the horizon, and, with the greatest exertion of his ocular powers, Blanden could perceive that it gradually increased and approached the shore.
"God be thanked! Idiot Kätchen has done her duty," said Blanden. "But now, too, it is certain that we shall not have to wait long for the storm."
And with a lightened heart he added, cheerfully--
"Dear friend, I rejoice that the carpenter's work of your domestic happiness stands so firmly already that you can have a housewarming; I wish Fate may deal more kindly with you than it has with me, and that the lightning may not strike the timbers before the masonry of the house is firm and you can make your entry into it. Good luck to you! I dread my meeting with Eva, and I fear--" Blanden suddenly stopped in the middle of his speech; he stood up, stepped to the railing, and gazed out fixedly.
"What is the matter with you, my friend?"
"It may be caused by the light, or my eye be dazzled from having previously looked too long at the evening sun."
"Why?" asked Wegen, wiping his glasses hastily, so as to assist his friend as much as possible.
"It seems to me--I cannot distinguish properly--let us wait until the boat is nearer."
Blanden did not dare to give utterance to his fears; the words would not pass his lips.
"The boat is drawing nearer," said Wegen quietly. "I even recognise it now, although I am convinced that my glasses in future must be one number lower; too often they leave me in the lurch."
After a pause of terrified expectation, Blanden cried suddenly--
"No, no--I am not mistaken--and yet--it is impossible; I only seeonegirl now in the boat. Can idiot Kätchen be making another swimming excursion and Eva be holding the oars?"
"You are right--I only see one living creature in the boat; perhaps Eva has become unwell from the swell of the waves and laid herself down in the bottom of the skiff; the best remedy for sea sickness--I always lie upon deck like a mummy."
"But the boat is not deep; I must in that case see her dress," replied Blanden.
Again an anxious pause ensued; then with a loud cry he shouted out Eva's name and rushed down the mountain path to the landing-place.
Wegen followed, shrugging his shoulders.
Soon both friends stood below on the strand.
The boat approached, with regular strokes of the oars; more quickly rolled the thunder across the western sky.
Blanden's pulses throbbed feverishly.
"Where is Eva?" cried he to the idiot boat-woman across the mighty roar of the surf.
No reply. Kätchen was occupied in bringing the boat safely to the shore. She sprang into the water, drew her skiff nearer, and bound it firmly to the post.
"Where is Eva?" repeated Blanden, now in a supreme state of excitement, while he grasped the girl and held her firmly.
"There," said the idiot girl, with imperturbable composure, and pointed to the sea.
"Dead then, dead!"
Kätchen nodded her head; Blanden sobbed, burying his face in his hands.
Then she flung herself down before him, clung to his knees, kissed his hands.
Like a flash of lightning, a fearful thought passed through Blanden's mind.
"Murderess!" cried he, "you have murdered her; you have hurled her into the sea!"
Kätchen was mute. No change was apparent in her features. It seemed as though she looked up at him with a triumphant smile.
"Misery of miseries!" cried Blanden, wringing his hands; "the victim of an idiot's passion! Yes, Wegen, this creature, this half-human being, this female Caliban loves me; she has pursued me with her passion even into the Forester's house; I found her several times beneath my windows; she cherished a moody, dull hatred for Eva! Heavens! Why did I not warn her! It is horrible--the girl has killed her!"
Wegen seized the girl with all the energy of agens d'arme.
"She must be arrested--she must give information."
Unconcernedly Kätchen allowed all to pass over her; she replied to no questions. Her frog-like eyes only rested upon Blanden with an expression of silent beatitude.
The girl was conducted to the fisherman's cottage.
Miranda, when she heard the news, fell into a swoon. How she had cautioned Eva against spending an evening on the sea; the latter had escaped secretly in order to indulge her unhappy love for the ocean.
The Räthin acknowledged this when she had recovered again, and Blanden and Wegen could hardly protect the idiot girl from the gigantic lady's maltreatment, who felt constrained to let her boundless excitement vent itself upon some victim or other.
A rural policeman chanced to be stopping just before the inn; he was summoned in order to take Kätchen with him to the district town to undergo what certainly promised to be a futile examination, because only seldom did a sudden gleam of light flash through her obscured mind.
Then Miranda, whose anguish indeed needed some outlet for its anger, turned with the most unjust reproaches upon Blanden, who, by his recklessness, had plunged mother and daughter into ruin, and had put both into the pillory before the whole of Neukuhren, before the capital, and before the entire Province; Eva had become ill in consequence of that disgrace, and since her illness had not been able to cast off a state of intense melancholy. Kätchen certainly should be arrested, but who knows if not she, but others, for whom there were no policemen, were perhaps the murderers of her unhappy child?
Blanden left the ignoble woman who, like hundreds of others, had transformed herself into a Megæra, when, in the heat of excitement, the lacquer of the gloss of cultivation melts away from them; yet he left her with a dagger in his heart! Was she right, could Eva have taken her own life? But no word of farewell, not a line indicated such a thing.
Must he be accountable for the victim whom the sea had swallowed up?
Who should solve that mystery?
Blanden stared at the storm that now discharged itself with terrific blows, and ignited an old Perkunos oak upon the height, like a beacon for ships in danger.
In his heart surged a tempestuous, agitated uproar, as great as the conflict of the elements without.
Two hours later the full moon shone from out a cloudless sky; the ocean still gasped in short breaths after the spasm that had shaken it. But it became calmer, and at last displayed a smooth mirror-like surface.
A boat glided over it.
"Farewell my amber nymph," cried Blanden, "I send your jewels after you, that you may remember me in those subterranean halls, and one portion of my life I bury with you in the deep."
With a loud noise the chest and its jewels sank into the sea; but still for a long time the boat of the solitary nocturnal sailor was driven about upon the waves.
Peace dwells in its unfathomable lap, but just as unfathomable is the grief of that human life, the grief which rends the heart of that nocturnal sailor, and which he pours out in plaints to the mysterious planets.
Two years had passed away since lovely Eva Kalzow had met her death in the waves of the amber sea. The obscurity that veiled her end had never been lifted.
Blanden brooded in solitude, retired from the world in his Castle Kulmitten; he absorbed himself completely in the study of Sanscrit and of the Indian philosophical systems; in these he found the original spring from which eastern wisdom has always drawn its supplies, even supposing that the same train of thought has not led the minds in the eastern and western worlds into the same path.
He had little intercourse with his neighbours; only his friend Baron von Wegen and the worthy Landrath of the district remained true to him. Of all others he was suspicious; he did not know who, at the late election, had voted for or against him, and, under his peculiar circumstances at the time of the election, and the similarity of his political views to those of the electors, he felt obliged to look upon the, to him, unfavourable record of votes, as an expression of want of esteem, or at last of decided aversion.
But intensely as he mourned the unhappy occurrences at the sea-side, for the malignity of fate which by means of his past had destroyed all his plans for a beautiful future, and entangled an innocent noble maiden in his own doom and hurled her into destruction, yet he was but little qualified for a hermit's life; amidst the penance to which he had condemned himself, the promptings to activity and love of life stirred ever anew within him; he would work and labour, and if at times he thought more with silent sadness of the charming girlish picture that had entered into his life like a transient dream, full of beautiful promise, yet the recollection of a shattered bliss could not force the relinquishment of every one of the joys of life upon him.
He had much sympathy with the belief and mode of thought of the Buddhists, but not the inclination to bury himself in nonentity. He seemed to hear in distant reverberation the stream of the great world pass by, and it drove him forth out of his solitude into the temptations of life. He often imagined himself to be like Saint Augustine, who was visited in his desert by the seductive spirits of brighter days; often the pictures of Lago Maggiore rose before his mind, the recollection of a southern night, and while wandering through the apartments of his castle, he believed still to perceive the shining traces of that mysterious visit which had never been explained to him.
He had been neither to the chief town nor to the sea-side during those two years; then an event occurred which drew him forth out of his brooding quiet life, the Jubilee at the University.
He would not be missing when all the scattered intellectual life in the Province suddenly concentrated round one focus, and the companions of his youth, the veterans of former days at the University, the later rising generation of studious youths, bound in one common bond, met one another in equal enthusiasm for works of science.
Blanden's first walk in Königsberg was to the little house in thePrinzessinstrassein which the great Thinker lived. If any one spirit descended to preside at this festival, it could only be that of Emmanuel Kant, who had imprinted his noble impression for ever upon this High School. Like the silver Albertus upon the cap, all citizens ofAlma Materbore the Thinker's picture in their heart.
And Blanden heard the inflammatory words of the spirited King who laid the foundation stone of the new University in theKönigsgarten.
He declared that it should be a home of light, and should scare the bird of night back into its darkness. What a noble flight did that Prince's enthusiasm take! He sounded the trumpet in the conflict of intellect, but by his call he never failed to awake that which was opposed to his own ideas.
The stirring life of this festival made a feverishly exciting impression upon Blanden after his long retirement; his pulses throbbed, his heart beat, the undecided need for mental occupation as for a life transfigured by soul and beauty, became so overpowering within him, that he felt physically oppressed and often gasped for breath. All others here possessed some certain object in life, and rejoiced in the pleasures of communion of labour; only he in the midst of these thousand jubilant beings was a solitary man, yes, he even fancied that his college friends avoided him, that the friendliness of their greetings was somewhat constrained.
Towards evening he went across the bridge of the castle lake. There a varied scene prevailed: gondolas filled with men singing, passed up and down and frightened the proud swans as they sailed along; rockets and balls of light ascended from the more distant gardens, while those nearest began to gleam in a fairy-like manner, so that not only the shade of the tree tops, but also the reflection of their radiance floated in the water.
Blanden entered theBörsengarten; here too a dense, gay crowd prevailed. Hardly had he forced his way past several well-filled tables, before he encountered Dr. Kuhl, in the cheeriest, most excited mood.
"Welcome, welcome--I should never have expected you to be here; this alone converts the festivity into a thorough jubilee!"
"You have not allowed me to see anything of you for a long time," said Blanden, reproachfully, "if even our friends forget us, we must become perfect savages yonder in our Masuren desert."
"I have too much to do, new chemical discoveries and divers other elective affinities! But the main thing is that you are here! To-day it is delightful! Walpurgis for all authorities, and there is no lack of charming witches. It is true that little red mice do not leap out of their mouths as they did from that of the blessed Lilith, but to-day most unguarded declarations escape the custody of their lips. All the world is infatuated; the closest men of learning permit a glance into their empty waistcoat pockets, and even the most prudish girls expand a little to-day."
"But where shall we sit?"
"I am to sit by Dr. Reising, and shall be able to obtain a seat for you."
"Dr. Reising is here?"
"How could he fail at the University Jubilee? besides, he is now a special professor; his father-in-law has provided for him."
"And which daughter did he marry?"
"Like a sensible, order-loving man, the eldest naturally, Euphrasia! But really he has to provide for all; old Baute is dead, they say in consequence of a stroke of paralysis, which he brought upon himself by his constant discussions with his son-in-law. Fortunately Dr. Reising's uncle, whose heir he was, is also dead, and left him several hundred thousand dollars. But Euphrasia is very economical with the money, and as the sisters do not obtain what they wish from her, they have struck into a better path and seek to win him over to themselves by the development of their united amiability!"
"But of course he would provide for them?"
"Yes, what was needful, but they have plans which he shall further. Lori has passed her examination as governess, and would like to begin a boarding school here; but thrifty Emma, on the contrary, wishes to set up a boarding-house, the sisters should help partly here partly there. Then the question is how to get hold of the Doctor's capital for these mild institutions; but Euphrasia guards the Nibelungen treasure like the dragon Fafner in the legend."
The friends meanwhile had drawn near to the table, at which the Professor with his wife and her three sisters Lori, Emma and Albertine were sitting; the others had stayed behind in their new home. Reising's appearance betrayed unwonted fashion; he even wore a gay coloured neckerchief. That was Lori's taste, and at the same time a trophy of her victory, because although Euphrasia had objected and maintained that her husband must avoid everything remarkable, as it did not suit him, Lori had conquered, and he had taken a grass green and ocean blue tie from his drawer.
Reising greeted Blanden very pleasantly, as did his wife and sisters-in-law. Of all those merry and sad events at the sea-side, the ball beneath the pear-tree alone lived in their recollection.
"A glorious festival!" said the Professor, while pushing his hand through his rebellious hair, which hitherto had opposed invincible resistance to the combined attempts at beautifying it on the part of his six sisters-in-law. "By it East Prussia makes progress in the consciousness of liberty."
"You will take cold, dear brother," said Emma, "there is a cold air from the lake."
Lori, with superior decision, took up a shawl that lay upon the table, and wrapped the Professor in it. Unanimous as the two sisters were that their brother-in-law's large heritage should be diminished in their favour, yet a constant small internecine war of jealousy as to the privilege of such favours, raged between them: Lori struggled for intellectual cultivation, Emma for food and attendance. Euphrasia looked upon her sisters' loving coquetry with proud indifference; she knew that the key of the cash box lay in her hands.
"My brother is right," said Lori. "Such festivals contribute considerably to the people's education, and the people must be educated; one feels this necessity most keenly on such occasions as the present. Not only the lower orders, even the higher require education; people may say that men's student life for a time unsettles them; scorn of citizen-like customs is implanted in them; late hours, beer-drinking, smoking are acquired as noble habits of life, and to be intoxicated is considered manly and correct, perhaps because the ancient Germans, even upon their bearskins, sometimes lost their sense of sobriety with drinking mead. Thus it is with men; but the daughters of the higher classes are not much better off; more or less, they are all badly brought up. Yes, people may even maintain the same of us, although we are the daughters of a professor."
"You go too far," said Albertine, angrily, and thus broke the silence, deep as an abyss, with which until now she had celebrated the day of jubilee.
"Too far? What, have we then really learned, according to any system, any principle? Nothing, absolutely nothing! Yes, any one who gave herself the trouble, who followed her own inclinations, might attain splendid results. But that is the case even with the Bœotians! Method is everything; I shall introduce a method into my educational institution that will satisfy the most temperate minds."
Reising looked timidly at Euphrasia, who always resisted the mention of this future boarding-school most decidedly, to-day she contented herself with carelessly humming a few bars of music.
"That is very grand," said Emma; "but I believe that physical well-being has its rights also. Living in hotels is as uncomfortable as possible; a stranger runs about like a numbered prisoner whose whole rights of humanity depend upon the numeral of his rooms. How totally different is a furnished house upon the English model; everything in common, breakfast-table, dinner, tea in the evening, all flavoured with conversation; an hotel transformed into a drawing-room--I could arrange it capitally, like that intellectual society of which papa always talked."
"What, intellectual society!" said Dr. Reising, while he coughed slightly, as though this Herbartian allusion had stuck in his throat, "all you have to do is to provide for the system of wants, for good food and drink, that soul of every hotel, and even of anhotel garni."
"What is the use of these castles in the air?" said Euphrasia, shrugging her shoulders.
"What do you say to it, Herr von Blanden," began Lori, who wished to draw the silent guest into the conversation.
"I have become estranged from all society in my forest solitude," replied he.
"And you live solitarily and alone?" asked Lori, with peculiar emphasis.
"Alone with my thoughts and with the remembrance of the grief that has befallen me."
Lori's eyes shone. Here was a chance, and the daughters of the upper classes might wait. With rapid change of front, she turned away from her brother-in-law and looked on without jealousy while Emma buttoned up his overcoat. She herself began to pour out a cornucopia of sweetness which was only destined for Herr von Blanden. She possessedespritand aspirations, did that little Lori, and under pedagogic education theenfant terriblewould have developed into a more reserved lady of mental acuteness.
"I imagine life to be so beautiful in those primeval forests, where elks and bison rove as in the days of the blessed Pikullus! How delightful to be able thus to live upon one's recollections. You have seen the world, Herr von Blanden; what a miserable part we must play compared with you. You have seen the snowy peaks of the Himalaya, the calm lakes of Thibet, the cloisters and pagodas, the tea-gardens of Japan and the tea-plantations of the Celestial Empire. Lions, tigers and apes are as familiar to you as generals, counsellors and dancing partners of thehaute voléeare to us; how insignificant to you must the society appear that revolves in a circle upon this tiny spot of earth! And yet you should not live in such retirement; a man of intellect such as you is guilty of robbing us all, of robbing society even when he buries himself in quietude."
Blanden listened with polite attention, when his glance suddenly fell upon two ladies who passed by, accompanied by an officer and several gentlemen, and who were greeted on all sides. His glance had only swept slightly over the features of the one; but there was no doubt she was hisprincipessaof the Lago Maggiore.
He would have liked to spring up and follow her; but how could he treat the gifted speaker so cavalierly who turned to him with such ardour and held him enthralled in the spell of her eyes and words. From that moment, however, his distraction was unmistakable; his glances wandered into space, but Lori would not release the victim of her eloquence.
"You must spend the winter season in the town here; oh, you have more female admirers than you imagine; you will befêtedas you deserve, for in truth the world is not so well supplied with intellectual men as it appears to be, when one sees so many wildly luxuriant whiskers and menacing eyebrows and the superior smile, which after all means so little, of so many lords of creation. No, no, Herr von Blanden, you must not withdraw yourself from society, you cannot condemn yourself to everlasting solitude; too many wistful glances, that would be glad to share it, follow you."
"Lori's distaff buzzes incessantly to-day," said Albertina, casting a glance ready for conquest upon the gentleman sitting beside her.
Emma, who found the bird in the hand worth two in the bush, meanwhile redoubled her attentions to her brother-in-law, whose hand she pressed cordially, so as to console him for the few wounding sparks that flew towards him from the anvil of Lori's loquaciousness.
"Yes," said she, "so long as there are gentlemen like Herr von Blanden, and our good brother-in-law, the social circle cannot become oppressed with tedium."
"I feel," said Dr. Kuhl, "that I amde trophere; no one thinks it worth while to transplant me amongst the stars. Therefore I must come to the miserable end of a falling one."
Blanden meanwhile had risen, and after a polite bow had hastened through the leafy garden paths after that form which wholly occupied his attention; it had surely been no vision, but nowhere fluttered the green veil, that like a greeting of hope flowed from the hat of hisprincipessa.
Here at a turn of the road, close to the lake, he believed he had recognised it. It was the veil, but another, a strange face looked at him from beneath the hat, a face fearfully hideous, that seemed to laugh and grin at his disappointment.
He hastened back once more; with slow scrutiny he went from table to table; here and there sat officers, but with unknown companions, the one who had accompanied those ladies was remarkably tall and stout, he was unmistakable.
All in vain; she must have already left the garden, but who was this stranger who appeared to be so well known here, was universally greeted with respect, with friendliness? Feeling annoyed, Blanden went up and down the garden walks, he looked at every lady, found all ugly as though the one had borne away with her all the radiance of beauty.
The Professor now made a move, followed by his female retinue. Lori walked triumphantly in front of her sisters, but Blanden hastened to evade a fresh experience of her loquacity. He deemed it safest to take refuge by the castle lake; he entered a boat that lay by the water's edge, and gave himself up to the guidance of the waves.
The moonlight made the lake; the jewel of that town on the Pregel, sparkle in most splendid effulgence; although the evening was cold, a southern shimmer, a dreamlike illumination swept around the lofty trees in the garden, and the festive lights and gay lanterns in the verdant shade, the ascending rockets and balls of light increased the emotional impression of the small inland lake, lovely even in its everyday life. A regatta of gondolas glided on wings through the waves, a race between the sons of the muses of the oldest and most recent terms. The gondolas of the former were left behind, for only few still had strength to guide their oars. The others sat on board with redly glowing faces; a few stared into the water in that silent despair which was the fruit of enthusiastic hours, and powerful drinks, which the brewers of Löbnichten understood how to prepare.
Thegaudeamussung by powerful voices, echoed from afar, and as the skiff drew nearer, Blanden perceived that the singers were gentlemen with grey and silvery white hair, but their faces were as if suffused with the reflection of youthful enthusiasm; it was no Charon's boat with candidates for Orkus, enjoyment of life was written in their features upon which at the same moment rested tokens of a glorious emotion.
"Immortal youth of German student life," thought Blanden to himself, "you are the guarantee for the youth of our nation, for the intellectual freshness even of its older years, for the enthusiasm which worships the highest gods, the freedom of the spirit and the friendship of all hearts.
"But I myself--am I not become old? Do I not glide like a shadow amongst these joyous beings? Does my heart still possess a youth? Must I not guard myself against the funeral song of the land of the lotos flowers, against the Indian barcarolle ofNirvana? Softly as the moon sinks into the waters, sinks the soul into dreamlessness, after having exhausted one dream after another! No! no! My pulses still throb, my life has still an object, even although it only be the rapturous magic of the moment!Diva, I seek my star!"
And with a powerful stroke of the oars, he clove the waves, he guided his boat towards the town, away beneath the bridge! There busy life was moving on the water; even the windows of the backs of the houses, the balconies and seats were peopled with a gay human throng, and despite the hoarse confused noise of many hundred voices, the chime of the clock in the reformed church, whose tower cast a long shadow in the waves, was heard above all.
There in the fitful light of the moon, and lamps with which the barks were ornamented, he saw as in a vision the marble-like beautiful features which lived so vividly in his recollection.
The lady sat in a boat with two others; the colossal lieutenant and several young gentlemen rowed: at first the beautiful woman looked up and appeared to contemplate the play of the rockets in the moonlight night, or did she gaze upwards at the stars, which here stood paler in the heavens, which seemed to be wanting in the fire of the south?
Blanden saw the profile of those finely cut features, the harmonious lines of the face; they were the same as those which had enchanted him upon the terrace of Lago Maggiore, when she stood there beneath the unicorn of the Boromei, her gaze directed side-ways upon the peaceful Isola Madre, and again as at that time he felt all the sensation of artistic contentment which such euphonious beauty sheds. Quickly her skiff glided past; now she cast a side glance at him, she too had recognised him; she smiled, she bowed, but then flung the bouquet of flowers which she held in her hand, into the water.
The lieutenant who bent over the gunwale to find the flowery sacrifice, one probably little flattering for him, the donor of the nosegay, suddenly concealed thePrincipessa'spicture. His effort was futile, and with reproaches in which, as it appeared, the other gentlemen also took part, he pulled the boat once more with irate impetuosity towards the garden side of the lake.
Blanden followed in eager haste, but he found himself amid a confusion of barks that formed an inextricably entangled clew. Intoxicated sons of the muses increased the confusion, they took pleasure in the cries of terror of the girls whose boats began to rock dreadfully, and would have liked to enact the rape of the Sabines upon the water. Blanden cursed the interruption; at last he succeeded in freeing his boat; thePrincipessa'sbark had gained a great advantage, but he might hope to encounter it again on its return journey.
This hope disappointed him! When he had rowed along the extent of the last gardens beside the castle lake, he met the empty boat guided by a boatman.
The party must have landed at some private garden, several of which enframed the lake at this part; the surly old man on being hailed, replied "that he knew nothing." The traces of the mysterious beauty were lost to him again.
"But not for ever," he vowed to himself!
She had thrown the nosegay into the water; should all memory of the happiness of love be buried with it?
But, no! He was filled with a new hope in life; the castle lake had suddenly been transformed, as if by fairy's art, into the enchanted Italian one. Vine clad hill terraces rose on its level shores, distant lofty ice peaks cast avalanches upon the Alpine passes, and in the shade of the pines lay the villa upon whose windows the moonlight played, telling of happiness to come.
The theatre bills, announced "Norma;" the character bearing that name was to be performed by an Italian singer. What was more probable than that on this evening thePrincipessaof Lago Maggiore should visit the theatre?
At the hour of opening the doors, Blanden appeared in the vestibule of the playhouse, which turns its melancholy monotonous-looking side to theKönigsgarten, and resembles a military store building or laboratory for a Chief of the Ordnance, rather than a temple of art. Blanden watched all comers with painful anxiety; he greeted Professor Reising with his sisters-in-law, who appeared in most striking toilets, in ball costume, which was useless extravagance in the dark apartments of this temple of the muses, grudgingly illuminated by the chandelier.
The gigantic lieutenant appeared also; behind him was borne a not less colossal bouquet.
Both Fräulein von Dornau entered, without an escort. Cäcilie looked paler than she had done at the sea-side; but Olga was as blooming as though she had just risen from the sacred ocean tide.
There, Regierungsrath Kalzow with his wife! How old and decrepit he had become! How his face, with its worn features, was lost in the stiff white neckcloth! But Miranda walked sturdily, although she seemed to be still thinner, more skeleton-like; she towed her husband behind her, as does a tug-steamer an unwieldy sailing ship.
"Why, there you are, also!" said Dr. Kuhl, greeting Blanden with a powerful shake of the hand. "Signora Bollini must exercise a marvellous power of attraction, indeed! Only look how the crowds pour in."
"So far as I am concerned," replied Blanden, "I am indifferent to theatres, which formerly I never visited. Our dramatic art has outlived itself! Signora Bollini, too, is totally innocent of my becoming faithless to my principles to-day."
"But she deserves that you should do so," said Dr. Schöner, who had come with Kuhl. "She is worthy of a sacrifice: she is not merely an admired singer who in Barcelona and Florence, as well as in St. Petersburg and Moscow, has celebrated great triumphs; she is above all a beauty, and her movements in acting are marvellously plastic. I do not share your views of the decadence of the drama, but whatever you may think upon the subject, you will not be able to release yourself from the influence of that beauty which is intensified by the stage-setting."
"And what did, then, really lead you into this temple of art, if it is not 'Norma' nor Signora Bollini?"
"A personal meeting that I wish for! Today I only came to the theatre for the sake of its spectators, like hundreds of others, who are not candid enough to confess it."
"Indeed, you are very absent-minded; you have the air of a policeman who, with a warrant of apprehension in his head, musters the throng. We will not disturb you, but wish you every success!"
Blanden remained behind alone, but only when a few late members of the audience arrived, and the overture had already commenced, did he enter one of the stage boxes, where he had engaged a seat, so as to be able to overlook the whole house. He took up his opera-glasses to commence a survey, which extended over boxes, stalls and balcony; he hurried from head to head as one turns over the pages of an album. Even the prettiest little faces did not attract his interest, and, just as little as the buds did the full-blown roses of which there are such an abundance in East Prussia. Every fresh face was a fresh disappointment for him. Meanwhile the curtain had been drawn up; Blanden had not yet completed his survey, and cared little for the Druids upon the stage, who peered at the moonlight through the dark branches, or vowed vengeance upon the Roman legions. Even the two singing Romans inspired him with no interest. Only when suddenly thunders of applause reverberated through the house did he turn his glances towards the stage.
There stood Norma, the vervain's jagged leaves and red shimmering flowers in her hair, the sickle in her hand, the symbol of the changeful moon. There she foretold the decline of Rome, and with elevated sickle she cut the mistletoe off the oak tree; then her arms extended, her countenance turned to the full moon, she greeted that silvery chaste goddess in melting fervent notes, which were followed by tempestuous applause.
Blanden took no part in these expressions of approbation. Since the appearance of the priestess he stood motionless, the incredible robbed him of his self-possession; only yesterday he had seen that harmonious profile when the beautiful woman in the boat looked up at the stars, as Norma did now at the chaste goddess; he had seen it last in the shades of the cedars of the Isola Bella. Signora Bollini was the fairy of those Italian days, the mysterious beauty of the enchanted lake.
He had found that which he had sought, and yet his first sensation was one of disappointment. Hisprincipessawas a singer, only a singer! How he had flattered himself in his dreams that a Signora from the upper circles of the Italian nobility had loved him, even though with evanescent, carefully concealed love, and had she been a Lucrezia Borgia, a Bianca Capelli, it was an adventure such as Boccaccio loved to describe. It was a fairy-tale out of the thousand and one nights, into which now the sober illumination of the footlights fell.
A singer who is practised in the art of deception, perhaps accustomed to get up an adventure! All the down seemed to be suddenly swept from the richly coloured wings of these recollections, which had so often fluttered through his dreams! With the charm and enchantment of the mystery the silent food for his vanity had also vanished away. He felt himself to be like Sancho Panza, who, after having been Governor of the island for a long time, found himself transformed into the sentry once more.
"Life," said he, "consists of one course of delusions, but as each delusion is unfolded, life becomes poorer in happiness. But was it only a deplorable deception?"
Blanden did not require much time before he condemned his first feeling to be a hasty emotion. Whetherprincipessaorcantatrice, this Italian woman still remained the splendid creature of his dreams. And she had not deceived him, only he himself!
What feeling, what passion in her singing! What grandiose tragic style in that Norma! How his inmost soul vibrated at that imploring entreaty of love which he believed to be directed to himself--