CHAPTER XVII.
THE AFTER-EFFECTS.
"You will see the effects by-and-by," the Doctor had said to Sonnenkampand his wife at their departure. "You will see the effect by-and-by,"had been the point of the Cabinetsrath's parting words.
The Sonnenkamps returned to the Rhine, full of fresh expectations.
They arrived at the villa and found everything in excellent condition.The great corridor, connecting the green-houses with the stables, agraceful structure of cast iron which Sonnenkamp had planned before hisdeparture, was completed, and its iron pillars already so hung withclimbing plants, that no trace of its being a recent addition appeared.Sonnenkamp expressed the satisfaction he felt.
Every one felt himself animated with fresh cheerfulness. The pleasanthome feeling was enhanced by the recent excitements of the journey.
Sonnenkamp asked if many strangers had visited the house and gardenduring his absence, for he allowed the servants every year theprivilege of exhibiting to visitors, while he was at the Baths, thelower story of the villa, the hot-houses, fruit-garden, and stables.
The butler replied that there had never been so many visitors as thisyear, and that he had pointed out to every one the place where thePrince and Princess had sat.
Sonnenkamp ordered the man to bring him the visitor's book, which waskept in the billiard-room, a great hall adjoining the hot-houses.Strict orders were given that only names should be inscribed in thebook. In an excited tone he asked, after reading a long list ofnames:--
"Who wrote that?"
At first no one confessed to any knowledge of the names, but finallythe second gardener, the 'squirrel,' said that two gentlemen had cometogether, one of whom wanted once to be Roland's tutor; and the otherwas a tall, stately man who spoke Westphalian German. The tall man,with the light curling hair, did not write anything, but the other,whom he addressed as Professor, wrote all these names. The manremembered being struck by it at the time.
Sonnenkamp at once concluded that the man who had written the namescould be no other than Professor Crutius. The names were those of theleaders of the slave party in the Southern States. It was out of thequestion that these men had been there themselves; but what meant thisreminder of them?
The matter disturbed Sonnenkamp for a while, but he finally succeededin dismissing it from his mind.
"Your old enemy," he said almost aloud to himself, "has come back, andthat is nothing but your unhappy brooding imagination."
Eric himself had no greater pleasure in embracing his mother again,than Roland and Manna felt.
"You and Aunt Claudine," cried Roland, "are dearer to me than all thetrees in the park, the house, and everything else. You too have beenstaying here faithfully, waiting for us to come home. How good it is tohave you here, that we may have some one to receive us when we comeback!"
The boy's whole heart swelled with inward happiness.
Manna said nothing, but her look showed how deeply she felt thepeaceful influence of the two ladies. She found in this little homesome of the rest she had found in the convent, and yet here no outwardvows had been taken; these two women were completely free. By littleand little, she told the mother about Professor Einsiedel, and rejoicedher by showing her appreciation of the deep consecration of spirit towhich this student of science had attained.
Sonnenkamp was more thoughtful than ever. This striving after a titleseemed to him a loss of independence, a loss that he was voluntarilyincurring. He returned from the Baths with the impression, that heshould be always treated by the nobles themselves as a stranger and aninterloper, and would always have to be on his guard againstmisconstruction of his smallest actions. The words of the Banker rangin his ears: Every one should hold fast to the distinction of being aself-made man.
Was it not better that a man should be the source of his own honor,than that he should allow it to be conferred upon him by another?
Here he was brought up before an insurmountable wall. He was vexed athaving to worry and brood so over the matter, yet he could not dismissit from his mind. He had just come to the resolution of begging theCabinetsrath to give it all up, when he received a letter from him,saying that the matter might be considered as in a fair way of beingsatisfactorily concluded.
Sonnenkamp looked about him when he had read the words. Now he had itin his grasp, and he would throw it from him. There would be moregreatness, more satisfaction, in that than accepting it. But then whatwould become of Frau Ceres, Manna, and Roland? How could he draw back?For a moment the thought passed through his mind that he would sell allhis property here and remove to Switzerland, France, or Italy. But heimagined the longing he would feel to be back here again; he felt thatthe social position and consideration to which he had grown accustomedhere, had become a necessity to him. He walked among the trees which hehad planted, which he had trained and cared for, and felt that they hadgrown to be a part of himself; he looked towards the Rhine, and wasconscious of that magic power of attraction which takes possession ofevery one who has once made his home beside it.
Forward! he cried to himself. The ball has been set rolling and mustreach its goal!
He read the letter again, and perceived that the Jewish banker hadapplied for a title at the same time with himself, but, strange to say,had withdrawn his name. The letter also said that an expression ofopinion from Herr Weidmann was expected, and as it was not sure how hewould view the case, it would be desirable for Herr Sonnenkamp tocultivate a closer acquaintance with him.
Another point in the letter gave Sonnenkamp cause for wonder; theCabinetsrath, with many charges of secresy, wrote that the opinion ofCount Wolfsgarten had been most plainly spoken, but that a remark ofhis had decided the case in Herr Sonnenkamp's favor.
Here were too many riddles. Sonnenkamp resolved to do nothing for thepresent. He had been kept waiting so long that others might as welltake their turn at it.
The Doctor came and reviewed the family. He thought that all had beenbenefited by the Baths, but that Herr Sonnenkamp was still feeling toomuch the exciting effects of the life there.
The Doctor had felt the pulse of each one, and reviewed them all, butthat did not tell him the changes that had taken place in their souls.
Frau Ceres was as tired and bored as ever, and thought it terrible tocome back to having nothing to hear of but the beauties of nature.
Manna could hardly believe that she had been through so much noise andexcitement.
The most opposite effects, however, had been produced upon Roland andEric.
Eric had to acknowledge that Professor Einsiedel's warnings had beenjust. In this life of dissipation, of constant devotion to others, hisown self was getting lost. He wished now to hedge in a certainenclosure about himself that he could devote to study, and in which hecould build up his own life anew. He set Roland solitary tasks, and inreply to his questions often gave evasive and unsatisfactory answers,telling him that he wanted to leave him to work out as many questionsas he could by himself.
Roland for the first time felt deserted by Eric, and at a time, too,when he needed him more than ever. The idle life at the Baths, theexcitement, the gaieties, the constant intercourse with men and womenwho openly expressed their admiration for him, all this left in hisheart, as soon as the first feeling of delight in getting home hadpassed away, a void, a restless craving, which made the quiet of thehouse, the regular routine of study, an intolerable burden to him. Hewanted to be away among people again, among his comrades.
The Cadet told him that he had been made an ensign, and should soonmake him a visit, with some of his comrades.
Roland kept impatiently looking out for some diversion, someexcitement. A remark of the long lieutenant, that he ought no longer tobe under the rule of a tutor, rose to his mind, and made him fret underhis want of freedom.
In this frame of mind he sought his father, and asked if the title ofnobility had not been received yet. Sonnenkamp comforted him as well
ashe could from day to day, but, happening to tell him once that Ericknew of what was in anticipation, Roland was filled with anger. Why hadEric never said a word to him about it?
Eric's mother became conscious of the change in Roland long before Erichimself did, but he perceived it at last, and laid aside his own work.But his efforts to regain his old influence over his pupil seemed for atime quite fruitless. An unexpected event was to come to hisassistance.
The Major came one day with a request, that Sonnenkamp would allow theFree Masons to have an entertainment in the newly finished armory ofthe castle, as Herr Weidmann was desirous of having the fete come offthere. Sonnenkamp's first impulse was to consent, feeling some surpriseat the extraordinary coincidence that should lead Weidmann to enterinto communication with him just at this time. Unwilling to appear tooeager to oblige, however, he asked why Herr Weidmann had not made therequest himself.
This seemed to embarrass the Major somewhat, for he could not explainthat the suggestion had originated with himself, and that Weidmann hadsharply refused to have any dealings with Sonnenkamp.
Sonnenkamp asked if he might be informed of the names of the persons inthe neighborhood who belonged to the body, and found, upon looking overthe list the Major handed him, that there were not enough names ofconsideration among them; even Herr von Endlich having withdrawn his,since his elevation to the ranks of the nobility. Sonnenkamp thereforedeclined, but requested the Major to bring about, in some way, a neareracquaintance between himself and Weidmann.
"I know an excellent Way," said the Major. "Herr Weidmann is verydesirous of receiving a visit from Roland and Eric. Send them to him."
This, too, Sonnenkamp declined, thinking it not his place to makeadvances towards a man who kept aloof as Weidmann did. The followingday, as he was riding, he almost dropped the bridle from his hand, onmeeting a carriage in which sat Weidmann, and, beside him, a man whoought to be on the other side of the ocean.
The man was remarkably tall, and had a strikingly fresh and youthfulappearance. As Sonnenkamp rode by, Weidmann bowed. His companion seemedsurprised, but raised his hat also, and in so doing showed a head whichcould not be mistaken. The thick, wavy hair, the high forehead, thekindly expression, in the glance of the blue eyes, were allunmistakable. Sonnenkamp could not help looking back, to make sure thathe had not been deceived. The stranger in the wagon also had risen andwas looking back, and Sonnenkamp's eye detected something like a nod,such as a man might make who found his suspicions confirmed.
Sonnenkamp reined in his horse, feeling weak and paralyzed, as if hecould no longer keep his seat in the saddle. Yes, 'tis he! 'Tis hisdeadly enemy, his most violent antagonist! How happens he here now? Helistened until he no longer heard the rattling of the wheels, and thenturned and walked his horse towards home. But shortly after, gatheringup the reins, and whipping and spurring his black steed, he rode towardthe Major's.
He did not find him at home. Fraeulein Milch, whom he always disliked,was there, and told him that the Major was at the castle.
He rode to the castle, and in a very natural way spoke of a visitor atWeidmann's. The Major stated that Weidmann's nephew, Doctor Fritz hadbeen there now for a short time, having come to take away his child,who had been at Mattenheim under Knopf's instruction.
"Was this visitor at the villa while I was away?" asked Sonnenkamp.
"Yes, indeed, he and Professor Crutius. Both of 'em were highlydelighted with the beauty of your house, and your skill in gardening.The seeds I bought of the head-gardener are for Dr. Fritz, who'll takethem to America. Send Eric and Roland to Mattenheim; 'twill bedelightful to both of 'em to know the excellent Doctor Fritz, but youmust do it speedily, for I hear he's going away very soon."
Eric and Roland, fortunately, came just at this moment to the castle,and the Major took great satisfaction in spurring them up to make atlast the visit to Weidmann. Roland was highly delighted that there wassome diversion in prospect, that he was to make a journey and break inupon the humdrum life; and Eric hoped that Roland would receive a newimpulse from observing a life of active usefulness.
This time, Sonnenkamp laid his plans more prudently. With Clodwig, Erichad brought nothing to pass, although he had had a direct commission;but now he gave Eric instructions which appeared very natural under thecircumstances, but which would enable him to gain a knowledge ofeverything which it was important for himself to know. Eric was to senda message after several days, and then Sonnenkamp would come for him atMattenheim. In the mean time he wanted to make a carriage-journey toanother part of the country.
In the morning, when Eric and Roland were setting out for Mattenheim,Manna concluded to make her long delayed call upon the Priest. FraeuleinPerini had said in direct terms, that the Priest had expressed hissurprise at her not having been to see him since her return home.Fraeulein Perini wanted Manna to hear from herself, that she had been atthe Priest's; but of course, she did not inform her that she had givento the Priest a very circumstantial account of their residence atCarlsbad.
Manna had no sooner entered the Priest's house, than she wanted to turnback again immediately, for she learned from the housekeeper that theDean from the capital was on a visit to the Priest. But the latter musthave heard her when she arrived, for he came out and led her by thehand into the study. He introduced her to the Dean as a postulant.
Manna did not know what he meant; and the Dean, perceiving this,explained to her that he knew of her pure purpose to take the veil.
Manna cast down her eyes timidly and humbly, while she was obliged tolisten to her praises from both of the men. She could not help herself,and yet she experienced a deep internal conflict.
The Dean asked if there had been any high dignitary of the Church atthe springs, and Manna said that there had not.
When the Priest now asked if she had become acquainted with any men ofdistinguished attainments. Manna considered it her duty to mentionparticularly Professor Einsiedel.
"Then you have made the acquaintance of that incarnate, shrivelled updarkness--that miserable mannikin, who is fond of being styled anancient Greek?"
Both of the men laughed, and Manna was amazed to see how the Professor,so highly venerated by her, was made a complete laughing stock. She didnot feel adequate to defend him here, and kept silence. "We willaccompany you home," said the Priest at last. "You, my honored fellowlaborer, must see for once the beautiful villa."
Escorted by the two ecclesiastics Manna went home, appearing to herselflike a captured criminal, and yet the men were very friendly andconfiding.
They met Sonnenkamp in the courtyard. He was very complaisant andrespectful; and he took especial satisfaction in showing to the highlyvenerated men the park, the orchard, the hot-houses, and, finally, thevilla.
The Dean exhibited a fine appreciation of everything, and whenSonnenkamp dwelt upon the fact, with a certain degree of pride, thatevery fire-place had its own separate flue, he all at once noticed thatthe Dean exchanged a passing glance with the Priest, at the same timewearing a satisfied smile.
Ho, ho! thought Sonnenkamp. You think that, do you? These men aretaking a view of the villa, in order already to make their dispositionshow to turn this house into a convent, when Manna has carried out herplan? Ho, ho! I would rather burn up the house and everything in it!
The two ecclesiastics could not understand why the expression ofSonnenkamp's countenance was so suddenly changed and so exultant; hewas delighted to penetrate the deception of other people. He bore themen company as far as the gate, and begged them to visit his modesthouse very frequently.
BOOK XI.
Das landhaus am Rhein. English Page 148