Das landhaus am Rhein. English

by Berthold Auerbach

  CHAPTER V.

  A STRONG HAND IS POWERLESS.

  The Frau Professorin was sitting at the window of the warm andcomfortable sitting-room. Carpets and cushions within, and mosswithout, shut out every draught. The sewing-machine at which she satmoved so easily, that scarce a sound was heard from it. From the rivercame the noise of the grating and crashing of the great masses of ice,as they struck against one another, changed their shapes, and floatedon again.

  She often looked out across the river and into the country, and saw thesmoke rising from the houses in the different hamlets; she was familiarwith the life there now.

  Accompanied sometimes by Fraeulein Milch, sometimes by the huntsman, butgenerally by Sevenpiper, whose cheerfulness she took great delight in,she had made her way everywhere, ordering and helping with word anddeed. There was a constant passing of visitors back and forth, somecoming with thanks, and some with new petitions. She thought herselfhighly favored in being allowed an activity so abundant, and soimmediately fruitful in results.

  But the Frau Professorin was not without higher pursuits, for she readover again her husband's favorite books, and studied his commentswritten on almost every page, drawing thence a strength which enabledher to live in silent communion with the departed. Her husband's wordsshe generally read aloud; it did her good to move her lips, and hear avoice speaking his opinions. Often also she had to read aloud, in orderto drive away the thoughts which crowded upon her at all times,thoughts about Sonnenkamp, his life and character, and what he had beenin the past, but especially about Manna, and the feelings that wereworking in her. She thought she understood now the meaning of Manna'swords to Roland when she was leaving her parents' home: "I too am anIphigenia." She repeated to herself, as she sat at work, the song ofthe Fates, in Goethe's drama, and her heart was burdened by thismystery of the children's having to suffer for the sins of the parents.

  In the midst of these sonorous and powerful lines, she heard the soundof wheels stopping before the house. Perhaps it was the Doctor comingto sit an hour with her, as he often did; she knew he liked to have herstay quietly in her place. But it was another step that approached,another knock at the door, and Herr Sonnenkamp entered.

  "Are you quite alone?"

  "Quite alone."

  The Frau Professorin was greatly embarrassed; this was the first timeshe had seen Sonnenkamp since hearing that about him which she couldnever tell him; it required all her self-control to enable her to offerhim her hand. He drew off his fur glove and grasped her hand in his.For the first time she felt the steel ring on his thumb like a coldsnake. With terror she saw her hand in his. This hand of Sonnenkamp's,so thick and hard, with the fingers bent back and the flesh growingover the nails, was the hand of the Pharisee in Titian's picture of thetribute money. So between the thumb and forefinger does the Phariseehold the piece of money, and there is an evil, violent, andhypocritical look, if we may so express ourselves, about the hand. Sheremembered standing one day, during her wedding journey, in the picturegallery at Dresden, when her husband covered for a moment the face ofChrist and that of the Pharisee, and drew her attention to thewonderful drawing of the two hands, which in themselves revealed theopposite characters of the men. With the speed of lightning did thosethoughts and images pass through the lady's mind.

  Sonnenkamp observed this emotion, so unlike her usual calmself-possession, but naturally attributing it to surprise, said withready tact:--

  "I have often noticed that intellectual persons who live much inthemselves, and especially noble women of superior cultivation, are notfond of surprises; I must therefore beg your forgiveness for this one."

  The Frau Professorin looked at him in amazement. How was it possiblethat a man, whose life in the past had been what this man's had, couldunderstand such subtle emotions and express them so delicately? Sheconfessed that he had rightly interpreted her emotion, and askedwhether his visit was to herself, or one of inspection to hisestablishment. The question was an awkward one, she knew, but she couldthink of no other at the moment.

  "My visit concerns no one but yourself," said Sonnenkamp; "and I almostregret my purpose of disturbing this beautiful repose. I come from alife of such confusion as makes it hard to believe that repose likeyours can exist upon the same planet. We live in a perpetual whirl; theonly comfort is that we have still the power of sleeping."

  "I am familiar with this excitement of carnival time," said the ladysmiling. "How we long for quiet, and yet are ever pursued by the musicand laughter of the evening before."

  Sonnenkamp now openly declared the object of his visit; and with greathumility begged the Frau Professorin to confer upon his house the graceand dignity which she only could give it.

  The lady regretted she must decline; she was no longer fitted forgaiety.

  "I should not have thought your views of life would be gloomy, butrather free and cheerful."

  "I believe they are. I do not consider our life as a dismal charitableinstitution, from which all cheerfulness is banished. It is right thatyouth should dance, and not think of the people who are shivering withthe cold, and of the grief and misery everywhere, at the very momentthey are moving so gaily. I love cheerfulness; we have no strengthwithout it."

  "Give us your help then; all the more will we devote ourselvesafterward to our poor brothers and sisters of the great human family."

  The Professorin had to struggle against a feeling of indignation, thatwould rise within her, at the idea of the man trifling thus with wordslike these. She looked at his hands as if there was blood upon them,and these blood-stained hands were offering her festive wine.

  She could say no more, she only shook her head, repeating,--

  "I cannot; believe me, I cannot."

  "Then," began Sonnenkamp, "I shall proceed at once to tell you thesecret of my life."

  The Professorin had to put both hands on her table to steady herself.What was the man going to say! She silently inclined her head, andSonnenkamp told how it was his unwavering desire, and a matter ofnecessity for his wife, Roland and Manna, that he should be raised tothe ranks of the nobility.

  The Professorin shuddered. What? Did this man dare to propose such athing? The von Burgholz spirit was roused within her. How could a manwith such a past as his have such presumption?

  Sonnenkamp watched her eagerly. Something was going on in the mind ofthis woman which he could not fathom. She kept silence, making noresponse to the confidence he had honored her with.

  "Why do you not answer?" he asked at last.

  The lady controlled herself and said, as she inclined her head somewhatbackwards:

  "Shall you not find it hard to bear another name?"

  Sonnenkamp looked keenly at her.

  "I found it hard as a wife," she continued, "to bear another name."

  "Excuse me, my dear lady," replied Sonnenkamp courteously; "you had totake a citizen's name; it is much easier to assume a noble one."

  He exhorted her, urged his request upon her more earnestly, enforcingit by the warmly expressed wish of the countess Bella.

  The Professorin insisted that no one, even though admitted to theclosest friendship, could decide upon the life she should lead; she wasresolved never to return to society.

  Sonnenkamp was driven to extremity. He believed that the Professorin'sonly objection was to appearing as a dependant, and that she would nolonger refuse, if a free and independent position were assured her. Ina manner, therefore, at once unassuming and emphatic, he told her thathe should here, and now, put into her hands a sum of money sufficientto maintain her in an establishment of her own for the rest of herlife. He put his hand in his breast-pocket as he spoke, and drew outhis pocketbook.

  "No, sir, I beg of you," answered the Professorin, coloring deeply andfixing her eyes upon his fingers,--just so did the Pharisee hold thepiece of money. "It's not that, I assure you. I am ashamed of noposition, since I have the true honor within myself; neither do
I fear,as you possibly imagine, being too deeply moved by contact with any ofthe relations of society. I have voluntarily resigned all connectionwith it. I have made no outward vow, but I beg you to respect mydecision as the vow of a nun, as you would if it were the decision ofyour daughter. I regret that I must beg you to urge me no further, asno inducements could have any influence upon me."

  It was hard for Sonnenkamp to control his anger, and restore thepocket-book to its place.

  He rose and went to the window.

  For some time he gazed fixedly out, then turning round with a smile, hesaid,--

  "There in the river are floating the blocks of ice; a soft breathbursts the icy covering; why might not also, my honored friend--youwill allow me so to call you--every one has in his life a something--Iknow not how to call it, an action, a purpose--you understand what Imean--that ought not to fetter all our future."

  "Allow me to say," returned the Professorin, "that in my case thiswould be a breach of faith. I have nothing left in the world butfidelity to myself."

  "You fill me with admiration," said Sonnenkamp, hoping to gain hispoint by expressions of admiring respect.

  He was obliged to assume a gracious and smiling exterior while inwardlychafing, for the Professorin was immovable. There was an imploringmanner about him; as if he would say: I know no way of help but throughyou; yet he found himself unable to put it into words.

  The Professorin felt that she must do something kind to the poor richman, must give him something to restore his cheerfulness and courage,and with hearty sincerity she said,--

  "Let me express to you the thanks of the hundreds whom you have fed andcomforted. You have made me very happy by employing me as the medium ofyour benefactions, and I desire that you should feel yourself thesource of happiness to others."

  With great animation she described the excellent order into which theneighborhood had been brought, and how her help had not waited forsickness, either physical or moral, but had helped forward those whowere sound. She told so many beautiful and touching incidents, thatSonnenkamp could only stammer out as he gazed at her:

  "It is all well--very well--I thank you."

  He once more gave her his hand and left the room. At the front door heencountered Fraeulein Milch, but hurried by almost without looking ather.

  Fraeulein Milch found the Professorin washing her hands with all hermight, as if she feared she should never wash them clean from the man'stouch.

  "Did he tell you he was to be raised to the ranks of the nobility?"asked the Fraeulein.

  The Professorin looked at her in amazement. How came this simplehousekeeper in her seclusion to know everything?

  The butcher from the capital, Fraeulein Milch said, who had been buyinga pair of fat oxen from her neighbor, had spread the report.

  Secrets creep out through strange channels.