CHAPTER VII.
THE SCHOOLMASTER AND NIOBE'S SON.
Every day, whenever Frau Ceres saw Roland, she would say:--
"Why, Roland, how pale you look! Does he not look very pale?" Here sheinvariably appealed to Eric, and upon his answering in the negativeseemed reassured.
But one day when the Mother exclaimed in terror:--
"Why, Roland, you do look so pale!" Eric could not deny it.
"I don't know what is the matter with me," he complained as Eric tookhim to his chamber.
"Everything seems to be turning round me," he said as he looked aboutthe room.
"What does it mean? Oh! Oh!"
He sank down on a chair and burst into a sudden fit of weeping.
Eric stood amazed.
The boy seemed to lose consciousness, and, with his eyes wide open,stared at Eric as if he did not see him.
"Roland, what is the matter?" asked Eric.
Roland did not answer; his head was like ice.
Eric gave a pull at the bell, and then bent over the boy again.
Sonnenkamp entered, to know why they did not come to dinner. Ericpointed to Roland.
The father threw himself upon the lifeless form, and a piercing cry waswrung from his breast.
Joseph was sent in haste for a physician, and by the use of strongsalts Roland was restored to consciousness. His father and Ericundressed him and put him to bed, the poor boy moaning all the while,and his teeth chattering with the chill that followed the first attackof fever.
Sonnenkamp looked in terror at the anxiety depicted on the physician'sface when he saw his patient.
"It is a very violent attack; I don't know what the result may be. Hashe often such?" asked the doctor.
"Never before! never before!" cried Sonnenkamp.
After the application of various restoratives Roland was able again tospeak, and his first words were:--
"I thank you, Eric."
The doctor left, after giving strict orders that the patient should bekept quiet, so that if possible he might sleep. After an hour ofanxiety, during which Eric and Sonnenkamp scarcely ventured to speak toone another, he returned; and having examined Roland again, hepronounced that the nervous system had been overstrained, and that hewas threatened with nervous fever.
"Misfortunes never come singly," said Sonnenkamp. They were the onlywords he spoke that night, during the whole of which he watched in theadjoining room, occasionally stealing on tip-toe to the sick boy's bedto listen to his breathing.
When Frau Ceres sent to know why they did not return to thedrawing-room, they sent an evasive answer and begged her to go to bed.Having understood, however, that Roland was slightly unwell, she camesoftly to his bedside during the night, and seeing him quietly sleepingreturned to her own room.
"Misfortunes never come singly," Sonnenkamp repeated when the nextmorning at dawn the physician pronounced the fever to have declareditself. He ordered the most careful nursing, and wanted to send for asister of charity, but Eric said that his mother would be the bestnurse Roland could have.
"Do you think she will come?"
"Certainly."
A telegram was at once despatched to the green house, and in an hourthe answer came that mother and aunt were on their way.
The news of the beautiful boy's severe illness spread rapidly throughthe city. Servants in all manner of liveries, and even the first ladiesand gentlemen, came to inquire after him.
The noisy music of the noon parade startled Roland as it passed thehouse, and he screamed:--
"The savages are coming! the savages are coming! the red skins, thesavages are coming! Hiawatha! Laughing-water!--The money belongs to theboy; he didn't steal it.--Hats off before the baron, do you hear?fly!--The blacks!--Ah! Franklin!"
Eric offered to request the Commandant for an order to have the bandpass through another street, or at least stop playing when passing thehotel.
A sudden thaw having carried away the snow, it was found necessary tospread straw before the whole front of the Hotel Victoria, to deadenthe sound of the wheels.
Eric's mother received a most cordial greeting from Sonnenkamp, and didher best to soothe Frau Ceres, who complained that it was horrible tohave Roland ill, and that she had to suffer for it, as she was illherself. At the Mother's suggestion, which Sonnenkamp at once adopted,being only too happy to have anything to do, any new means to try, Dr.Richard, who was familiar with Roland's constitution, was alsotelegraphed for. He arrived at a late hour of the night, and approvedof all that had been done for Roland. He laid his chief injunctionsupon Eric and his mother, impressing on them the necessity of guardingthemselves as much as possible from the nervous excitement attendant ona life in a sickroom, of taking plenty of rest and amusement, going outoften and refreshing their minds with new images. He would not leavethem till both had given a promise to this effect.
After a consultation with the attending physician he prepared todepart, but when shaking hands at parting stopped to say:--
"I must warn you against the Countess von Wolfsgarten."
Eric was startled.
"She has remedies for every possible disease; and you must politely butresolutely decline whatever she, in her dictatorial way, may press uponyou."
"He is not going to die, is he?" asked Sonnenkamp of the physician, ashe stood upon the steps.
The physician replied, that in extreme cases the powers of nature wereall we could rely upon.
Sonnenkamp fairly shook with rage, rage against the whole world. Withall his wealth he could do nothing, command nothing; but must fall backupon the powers of nature, in which Roland had no advantage over theson of a beggar!
Frau Ceres lay upon the sofa in the balcony room among the flowers andbirds, staring vacantly at them, scarcely speaking, and eating anddrinking almost nothing. She did not venture to go to Roland's bed, butrequired to be informed every hour how he was.
The entire want of union among the members of the household became nowapparent. Each one lived for himself, and thought every one else wasthere only for the purpose of adding to his or her comfort.
At noon a great event occurred, nothing less than the reigning Princesssending her own court physician. Sonnenkamp was full of gratitude forthis distinction, which unhappily he had to receive under suchmelancholy circumstances.
Day and night, Eric, his mother, and aunt sat, now by turns, and nowtogether, by the sick boy's bed. He knew no one, but lay the greaterpart of the time in a half sleep; sometimes, however, in an access offever, he would start up with a glowing face and cry:--
"Papa is dancing upon the black people's heads! Give me back my blueribbon! Ah, ah!" Then as if in an ecstacy he would exclaim, "Ah! thatis the German forest! quiet, Devil! There, take the may-flowers--blueribbon--the boy has stolen the ring--the laughing sprite--respect tothe young baron--back, Griffin!"
The touch of Eric's hand upon his forehead always soothed him. Oncewhen his father was present, Roland sang a negro song, but sounintelligibly that they could hardly make out the words. Suddenly,however, he cried out:--
"Away with those great books! take away the great books! they arewritten with blood!"
Sonnenkamp inquired if Roland had ever sung the song when he was well;and if Eric knew from whom he had learned it. Eric had never heard it.Sonnenkamp's manner towards Eric and his mother was full of humblerespect. He gratefully confessed that this illness, which threatenedhis very existence, had yet given him that which otherwise he mightnever have obtained. He had never believed in human goodness andunselfish devotion; but he saw them now displayed before him inunceasing activity. He would gladly kneel before the Mother and worshipher, he added with an expression that came from his heart, for she hadrefused to come for pleasure, but was ready at once when called tonight-watching and the exercise of sorely tried patience; he shouldnever, never forget it.
The Mother felt that there was another patient here needing her care,besides t
he fevered boy who lay there with closed eyes. Her intercoursewith Sonnenkamp became more intimate; he complained to her of hisnever-resting grief, and again and again would come the thought: What Idesire, I desire only for this son. If he die, I shall kill myself. Iam worse than killed now, and no one must know it. Here is a being whohas no past, must have no past; and now his future is to be taken fromhim!
"Am I to have no son because I was no son?" he cried once, but quicklycontrolling himself he added: "Do not heed me, dear lady; I am speakingmyself like a man in fever."
The Mother begged him to compose himself, for she was sure that by themysterious laws of sympathy, any excitement in those about him wouldreact upon the patient.
In the stillness of the night the Mother sat by the boy's sick-bed,listening to the chimes that rang out the hours from the church tower;and these bells, heard in the night by the sick-bed of the poor richboy, brought up her own life before her.
Eric often reproached himself for his too great indulgence, in havingallowed Roland to be drawn into that whirl of excitement which was nowperhaps killing him; and he remembered that day in the cold gallerybefore the Niobe, when the fever first showed itself. He was anotherwhom the Mother had to soothe. She alone preserved a firm balance, andoffered a support on which all others could lean. She handed Eric theletter she had received from Professor Einsiedel on New Year's day, andasked about the scientific work which she had not before heard of. Ericexplained how it had all come about. His mother perceived that he hadyet learned nothing of Sonnenkamp's past life, and took care to tellhim nothing, thinking he ought not to have the additional burden ofsuch knowledge at this time of anxiety for the sick boy, and ofincreased difficulties in the way of his training.
In obedience to Dr. Richard's strict directions, the Mother often wentout to visit her old friends, among them the wife of the Minister ofWar, and was greatly comforted at learning that Eric could have aprofessorship in the school of cadets, when Roland entered the academy.She always returned home greatly cheered from these visits.
Eric, too, made calls, spending many hours with Clodwig. Bella heseldom saw, and then but for a short time; she evidently avoided nowany interview with him alone.
Pranken took great offence at Eric's mother having been sent forwithout his advice; these Dournays seemed to him to be weaving a netabout the Sonnenkamp family. He came sometimes to inquire for Roland,but spent most of his time at Herr von Endlich's, in the society of theyoung widow lately returned from Madeira.
Much as Eric had desired to become better acquainted with Weidmann, thewhirl of society had hitherto prevented, and now that the Parliamentwas no longer in session, Weidmann had left the capital without anycloser relation having been formed between them.
Weeks passed away in trembling suspense. The sick boy's wanderingfancies took a wholly new direction. He imagined himself with Manna,and was constantly talking to her, caressing her, jesting with her, andteasing her about the picture of Saint Anthony. Manna had not been toldof her brother's illness; it seemed useless to burden her with anxiety,when she could do nothing to help.
Sonnenkamp continued to be greatly vexed that there was nothing to bedone but to wait for the forces of nature. He sent considerable sums ofmoney to the poor of the capital and to all the charitableinstitutions; he reminded Eric of what he had told him of the teachers'union, and handed him a handsome sum for the furthering of the objectsof the association.
One day he asked the Professorin if it were not possible that prayermight help the sick. She replied that she knew no positive answer tosuch a question, that Sonnenkamp must compose himself, and be glad ifhe could cherish such a beautiful faith. He looked sadly at her.
Roland talked so constantly with his sister, that Sonnenkamp asked thephysician if Manna had not better be sent for, and was delighted atreceiving an affirmative answer.
It was a comfort to him in the midst of his duties, to think that nowhe could force his child from the convent, and never let her leave himmore. His heart rejoiced in the prospect of being able to have both hischildren with him, when Roland was well again. He walked up and downthe room, rapidly opening and shutting his hands, as if he were leadinghis children by his side.
The careful Lootz was despatched to the convent with an urgent letterenclosing the doctor's directions, to which he would gladly have addeda few words of the Professorin; but she was resolved to interfere in nopossible way of Manna's plan of life, even in a case of extremenecessity, and refused to write.
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