CHAPTER XI.
THE ICE BREAKS UP.
In the morning, when Eric and Roland were saying good-by at the greencottage, a message came from Fraeulein Milch to offer herself and theMajor that day, as visitors to the Professorin.
The Professorin praised to aunt Claudine the tact of the housekeeper,who evidently felt that they would be lonely on that day.
It was snowing steadily, and from her closed window the Mother made asign of farewell to her son and to Roland, who drove by in the firstcarriage, and afterwards to Herr Sonnenkamp and Fraeulein Perini, whobowed from their carriage: Frau Ceres lay in the corner, closelywrapped up, and did not move.
The Major and Fraeulein Milch soon arrived. The Major kept himself understrict military discipline, and allowed no slight indisposition tochange his stiff bearing; he was rather hoarse, and could say even lessthan usual, but he offered the congratulations of the New Year to theladies with as much cordiality as formality.
"This year," he said, "will complete the fifty years that we have livedtogether."
He pointed to Fraeulein Milch, and his hand said, Not a better creaturewalks the earth. But his looks said still more, which was not so easilyunderstood.
They had a very cheerful dinner, and Fraeulein Milch told them how manypleasant things she had already heard about the valuable presents, inthe various houses.
The Major forced himself to master his indisposition, to be fit companyfor the three ladies; he praised the Professorin for knowing how tomake such excellent soup, though she was such a learned lady.
"Yes, yes," he laughed, "I've really had to force Herr Sonnenkamp tohave soup at his table. You see, if I had to go a day without soup, Ishould feel as if I were wearing my boots without stockings; the lowerstory of the stomach is cold."
They laughed at this comparison, and the Major thus encouraged,continued:--
"Yes, Frau Professorin, you know everything; can you tell me how it isthat though this day is just like yesterday, we feel that there'ssomething peculiar about it because it's New Year's Day? I feel as ifI'd put on clean clothes for the whole year."
Again there was a general laugh, and the Major chuckled, well pleased;he had done his part, now he could leave the others to themselves.
After dinner, the Professorin insisted that the Major must take hisnap; she had had the library warmed on purpose, and the Major was not alittle proud that he was to sleep in the arm-chair there.
"Ah," he said, "I can sleep as well as the best Professor; but so manybooks, so many books! it's frightful to think that a man can read themall! I don't understand how it's possible."
The Major slept the sleep of the righteous; but he would have had norest if he could have guessed what was passing between the ladies.
Fraeulein Milch sat at the window by the Professorin, who listened inastonishment as the simple housekeeper said how strange it was thatEric should have consented to read the harrowing drama of Othello; theMajor had been driven almost crazy by it, and, besides, there were somany points in it which could not be touched upon in the family.
"Do you know the play?" asked Frau Dournay.
"Indeed I do," replied Fraeulein Milch, her whole face flushing to hervery cap-border. Then, to the Professorin's surprise, she went on toremark upon the poet's wonderful stroke of art in placing the youngmarried pair on the island of Cyprus, where strong wine is produced anddrunk, not always in moderation; for in that solitude, and under thathot sun, wild, burning passions were fostered, too. The greater thehappiness of a fondly loving pair on such an island, the more miserablewould they be if any discord rose between them.
The Professorin listened as if a new person were speaking, whom shehad never known before; but she said nothing of her thoughts, onlyasking:--
"Do you think then that the play was unsuitable to have been read therebecause Herr Sonnenkamp has been a slave-holder?"
"I would rather not say more about it," said Fraeulein Milch evasively."I do not like to talk about the man; it rejoices me,--no, that isn'tthe right word,--it makes me easier that he scarcely notices me, andseems to think me too insignificant to be looked at. I am not angrywith him for it, but rather grateful, because it is not necessary forme to look at him; and friendliness towards him would be hypocrisy."
"But you must not turn me off in that way. Can't you tell me why youthought it unsuitable for being read?"
"I cannot."
Aunt Claudine, thinking she saw that Fraeulein Milch had something totell which was not for her to hear, quietly left the room.
"Now we are quite alone," said the Professorin, "you can tell me everything. Shall I assure you that I can keep a secret?"
"Oh, I am only sorry that I have gone so far," stammered FraeuleinMilch, drawing her cap-strings through her fingers. "It is the firsttime for fifty years that I have paid a visit, or eaten at a stranger'stable; I ought not to have done it; I have not yet gained self-controlenough."
Her face quivered, and her brown eyes glowed.
"I thought that you looked on me as a friend," said the Professorin,holding out her hand.
"Yes, so I do," cried Fraeulein Milch, seizing the hand with both herown, and pressing it with fervor. "You cannot tell how I thank God forhaving granted me this before my death; since I devoted myself to him,I have renounced all the world; you are the first--oh, I think you mustknow all, you need be told nothing."
"I do not know all. What do you know of Herr Sonnenkamp?"
Fraeulein Milch hung her head sadly, then put both hands before herface, crying,--
"Why must I tell you?" Then she rose, put her mouth to theProfessorin's ear, and whispered something. Frau Dournay threw her headback, and grasped the sewing-machine, which stood before her, with bothhands. Not a word was spoken. Outside, all was still, except for thecawing of a flock of crows which were hovering over the Rhine.
"I do not think you would tell me such a thing on a mere rumor," saidthe Professorin at last. "Go on, and tell me plainly how you learnedit."
Fraeulein Milch looked round timidly, and answered:--
"I have it from the most trustworthy of men, whose nephew has sent achild here to be educated; he knows the name which Herr Sonnenkampformerly bore, and all about his past life. But, dear, noble lady, whyshould not a man be able to take up a different life, a new existence,whatever he may have done?"
"Of that another time," interrupted Frau Dournay; "tell me the name ofthe man who has told you this."
"So be it then. It was Herr Weidmann."
The Professorin covered her face with her hands. "What are you sayingof Herr Weidmann?" asked the Major, entering suddenly. "I can tell you,Frau Professorin, that any one who doesn't know that man, doesn't knowone of the best and truest men in the world. He's one of God'smasterpieces, and God himself must have satisfaction in him; every day,when He looks down from heaven, he must say: The world isn't yet sobad, for down yonder I have my Weidmann; he is a man--a genuine man.Everything is included in that, there's nothing more to be said."
Both women felt a sense of relief in the entrance of the Major, who nowprepared to go home with Fraeulein Milch. After they had gone a fewsteps, the Professorin called Fraeulein Milch back, and asked in awhisper,--
"Does the Major know, too?"
"Oh no, he could not bear it. Forgive me for having laid such a burdenon you. Believe me that it is not made lighter to me, but heavier."
The guests departed; and soon after, the postman brought a letter fromthe University-town. Professor Einsiedel, who for twenty years hadbrought his New Year's greeting to Frau Dournay, did not choose to failin it to-day; they were cordial and significant words which he wrote,but they seemed to come from a different world. Twice she read thepostscript, for there was a greeting for Eric, with the message, thatthe Professor would soon send him a book on slavery which was announcedas just published; and he added the exhortation that Eric should finishhis work within the new year.
/> The Professorin looked thoughtfully at the words. What did it mean?Eric had never spoken to her of any such work. She passed her handthrough the air before her brow, as if she would drive away everystrange thought. A recollection rose within her. This very morning shehad been expressing her sorrow to Aunt Claudine that she could nolonger dispense any charity of her own, though it was the duty of everyone to give from his own store. What she did seemed nothing; only thegifts seemed of importance. Almost involuntarily, she opened the box inwhich lay the money that Sonnenkamp had intrusted to her. How could shesay in future to those who received it: You must not thank me, but HerrSonnenkamp.
She collected herself, and went to the library, where she stood gazingout of the window. It seemed as if something were actually gnawing ather heart. In spite of inward reluctance, she had allowed herself to bebrought into these relations, and her power of clear and intelligentperception seemed clouded.
Down the river there was a heavy roar, with a sharp cracking sound, asif a new world were opening; the ice had broken up. Great blocks werefloating down the stream. They were hurled, against each other, turnedover, crushed into fragments, brought together again, and floated on.Every block, large and small, was crowned with a wreath of snow, formedby the icy splinters that were ground to powder and thrown on top bythe breaking up; the fragments floated down the river so swiftly thatone realized, for the first time, how rapid and strong the currentalways is.
The sun set in a glowing sky across the Rhine; half aloud, theProfessorin said to herself:--
"This first day of the year, which is now declining, has brought me aterrible experience; it must be borne, and turned to some good end."
BOOK IX.
Das landhaus am Rhein. English Page 115