CHAPTER IV.
"THROUGH THE NEW DOOR."
Lina staid with Manna, so that she was unable to shake off herschool-friend. When they went together to church, if Manna said, goingand returning, that she would rather not talk in the morning, then Linainsisted that Manna need not say anything, she would do all the talkingherself. She chatted about everything that came into her mind, thingspast and things to come.
As soon as she woke up she ran through the gamut, then ran trillingthrough the house, and almost every hour of the day, when there was nocaller and they were within doors, she sat at the piano in the musicsaloon, singing and playing incessantly, mixing up serious andmelancholy, classic and modern music, no matter what, so that it madesound enough. She would follow up one of Pergolese's mournful dirgeswith a merry Tyrolese carol.
The whole house was entirely changed by Lina's presence, and at thetable there was a great deal of laughter. In cherry time the hot-housesat Villa Eden already supplied early apples; and Lina had the habit ofnever peeling an apple, but biting into it whole, congratulatingherself that she could do it without being reprimanded by her mother.She paid no regard to Sonnenkamp's reproving look; she was anindependent girl, doing recklessly whatever she fancied, and soaccustomed to being scolded, that she had become hardened to it.
Lina ate heartily, like a good healthy peasant girl, while Manna ate asif it were a matter of compulsion. Lina took pleasure in eating, andwas hungry all the time. She could always take something, she said ofherself, and if anything at the table had a particularly good relish,she would say:--
"Aren't you glad, Manna, that you've got rid of that convent food. Ah,my first meal at home was a new experience to me, and here you havevery nice things."
She also liked a glass of wine, and was rallied on that account. Shebegged Eric to defend her, and he replied:--
"That's easily done. It's a romantic absurdity to look upon it as afine thing for a girl not to take pleasure in eating and drinking; anddrinking wine is assuredly not an unfeminine act. Isn't drinking wine amuch pleasanter thing to see than eating meat, nourishing one's selfwith animal food?"
Everybody laughed except Manna, who looked at Eric with an unmovedface. Strange how this man gives a surprising turn to every thought,and induces surprising turns of thought in other people!
Manna felt as if she were driven out of the house by Lina's presence.
Only at Frau Dournay's, for whom Lina entertained a holy awe, couldManna get any time for being alone; she felt herself in concealmentwhen she fled to the green cottage, and by this means she came nearerto the Professorin, almost in spite of herself. Her uniform serenity ofsoul, her never-failing willingness to devote herself to others, wereperceived by Manna, and she was startled at hearing her say,--
"You wanted to make a request of me, dear child. Why do you hold back?"
"I, a request? What request?"
"You would like that Lina should come here, but you avoid acknowledgingthis to me and to her. If you will honestly confess to me that youwould like this, I will arrange the matter."
Manna confessed that she had not had the courage to express her wish.
By the next day Lina was settled at the cottage with the Professorin,and there she was merry as a cricket, and enlivened the whole housewith her cheerfulness, and her fresh bubbling gaiety alone. Wherevershe was, walking, standing, or sitting, she sang to herself like a birdon the branch, and the breasts of the hearers were refreshed. The Auntplayed an accompaniment for her songs, and the clear, bell-like tone ofher voice was full of fresh health and bright joy. She sang without theleast effort, and her love added a tone of deep feeling to her singing,which one would not have supposed she possessed.
She was perfectly undisciplined, but she was very particular abouther dress, especially since she had been in love, and she liked tolook at herself in the glass. But to bother herself about the innerlife,--"That's not my style," was her uniform manner of speaking. Shelived her own life, was a Catholic, because she was born so, and it wastoo much trouble to make any change. She laughed, sang and danced;yesterday is gone, and to-morrow will look out for itself. Amongst allthese persons who bore a heavy burden in their souls, who were imposingsome heavy task upon themselves, Lina was the only light-hearted childof nature; and she was regarded by those who looked upon her ratherwith envious than contemptuous eyes.
"Ah! could one but be like her!" sighed each one in his own way.
Lina, gradually, became less demonstrative and excitable through thequiet influence of the Professorin. It gave her pleasure to be able tounderstand a great deal of what the Professorin said; but there weremany things beyond her comprehension. What does it matter? One must nottake all there is in the dish,--one must leave something for others.
It was beautiful to see Manna coming in her bright summer dress throughthe park to the cottage. But she manifested to the Professorin only arespectful confidence; she always addressed her as Madame, and spoke toher in French, the language she had been accustomed to use at theconvent. To all questions she gave direct answers.
"Had you any particular friend at the convent?" the Professorin onceasked.
"No, it is not allowed. One must not show any special affection, buttreat all with an equal love."
"If it would not weary you, I should like to ask another question."
"Oh, you do not weary me in the least. I like to talk of the conventbetter than any thing else; I think of it all the time. Ask what youplease."
"Had you a particularly confidential relation with any one of theladies?"
Manna mentioned the name of the Superior, and was greatly surprised tohear the Professorin extol the beauty of such a life as hers; thatthere could be nothing more blissful than to confer peace and joy uponyoung children, to aid them to become strong, to overcome the trials ofexistence. It was a life that death could not change, and in which thesorrow of parting and absence could never be known.
The Professorin repeated that she should regard it as a crime, to say asingle word that should shake a soul desiring to devote itself to sucha life.
"Dear child, thou hast chosen the right path according to thy light."
Manna bowed, and she seemed transfigured. It did not occur to her thatthe Professorin had spoken to her all at once so affectionately. Butnow she shrank into herself with alarm. Is this not one of thetemptations? Does not this woman praise her, enter into her utmostsoul, in order to win her over and seduce her from the faith? A glanceof suspicion shot from those youthful eyes upon the elderly lady. Andyet Manna returned, again and again, to the Professorin, as is if shewere fleeing from something, and could find concealment only there.
Frau Dournay's uniform serenity of soul, her perpetual willingness todevote herself to the service of others, had a magnetic attraction forher, and before she was aware of it, she formed more intimaterelations, and became more confidential with the Professorin than shehad ever believed possible.
The struggle and the vacillation of the girl's young heart wererevealed first of all to the Professorin. As they were sitting once inthe garden, having fortunately declined to go with Lina, Roland, andEric, on an excursion upon the Rhine, Manna said, looking timidlyaround,--
"Why should it be a sin to take delight in nature? Is not joy itself asort of devotion?"
The Professorin making no reply. Manna said with pressingearnestness:--
"Do speak, I entreat you."
"A writer," replied she, "whom you do not probably revere as we do, hassaid: God loves better to see a heart filled with joy than withsorrow."
"What's the man's name?"
"Gotthold Lessing."
Manna requested to have the passage pointed out. The Professorinbrought the book, and from that time there was a free interchange ofthought between them. The Professorin continued very cautious in herremarks, and repeated that she should look upon it as a sacrilege todeprive a believing heart of its religious convictions.
Manna declared that she was strong enough to enter into the thoughts ofthe children of the world, as they are termed, without getting lostherself.
The Professorin repeatedly warned and advised her, but she insistedthat she had returned to the world in order to perceive what it had toproffer to her, and then to renounce all freely. She expressed a firmdetermination not to become Pranken's wife, in fact, not to be marriedat all. She came very near disclosing to the Professorin, that shewanted to devote herself as an expiatory sacrifice, not fromcompulsion, but, through heavenly grace, freely renouncing all thedelights of the world.
"To you," said Manna, with tearful eyes, "I could tell all."
It would have required only a single word, one encouraging appeal, andManna would have told everything to the Mother. But she earnestlyentreated not to be made the repository of any secret; not because shecould not keep it faithfully, but it would be a burden to her, and sheshould never feel at peace if she should divert a being formed to livein the purest sphere from occupying her true place. She spoke veryguardedly, choosing her words carefully, for Manna must not have theleast suspicion that she also was hiding a secret; she simply let it beunderstood that she favored the maiden's resolution to take the veil.
Something of Sonnenkamp's nature seemed awakened in Manna's soul. Wasthis woman encouraging her only in order to gain a firmer hold uponher? But then, as she looked up into the quiet, calm face of theMother, she felt impelled to fall upon her neck and beg her forgivenessfor having had such unjust thoughts of her. The Professorin saw theconflict in the child, but gave it a different interpretation; she hadno suspicion that distrust of the worst kind was felt by Manna.
As Manna passed through the new door on her way home through themeadows, she suddenly stood still. Here she had stood on the firstmorning, here had the thought darted through her soul that she mustoften pass through this gateway, over this path, engaged in deepstruggles, and contending for victory. This foreboding had now beenrealized.
Das landhaus am Rhein. English Page 135