Das landhaus am Rhein. English

by Berthold Auerbach

  CHAPTER IX.

  HERO ROLAND'S MOTTO.

  The Professor's wife announced herself at Manna's door; Manna openedit. With a bloodless countenance, she stood, before the Mother andlanguidly-held out her hand.

  "I have wrestled with myself all alone," she said; "I cannot find theoutlet; I must tell you all."

  And now Manna related how she had grown up in most reverent respect forher father, and how she had often painfully lamented that her motherwas so harsh and cold to him; but once--she had never learned what hadtranspired previously--her mother had said in the presence of herfather:--

  "'Know then who your father is, who your father is.' Don't look at me,I beg of you; I beg you, let me speak it softly in your ear."

  She whispered the words softly in the ear of the Professorin. Thelatter sat there and held her hands in her lap, and shut her eyes; nota sound was heard in the room: it seemed as if the whole world wasdead, and the two human beings that sat there opposite to each other,dead as well. Manna went on to say that she did not at first understandwhat this meant, but gradually it had come to her, and she hadpersuaded her, parents to let her go to the convent. On the way thitherthe thought was continually present to her, how, in old times,Iphigenia had offered herself up as a propitiatory sacrifice, and soshe longed to offer herself up a willing and a hopeful victim, to washaway all the guilt of those who were dear to her.

  "I felt then as if something had been cleft within me, as if a vein hadburst in my heart. I looked upon myself as a victim on the altar. I hadthe courage then, I wanted to act decisively before that couragedeserted me, for I was afraid of my own cowardice, and for that reasonwas anxious to bind myself at once."

  Again, after a longer pause--the Professorin did not interrupt with asingle word--Manna said that she did not understand what her father wasdoing, and she, she herself must be made noble, and become Pranken'sbride, of equal rank with him. She had honored and esteemed Pranken; hewas a man of the world, but of a profoundly generous and religiouscharacter.

  Sobbing bitterly, she threw herself upon the mother's neck, andexclaimed:--

  "I cannot! I cannot be his wife. Ah! I am too weak. You have told methat I should have to experience trying conflicts, but I had neverthought, never dreamt of such a thing as this. No; no, indeed."

  "What more?" asked the Mother.

  Manna hid her face in her hands, then threw herself upon the Mother'sneck and wept.

  "The Mother entreated her to let her know the rest, but Manna remainedsilent; finally she uttered the words:--

  "No, I shall take it with me into the grave; it is mine alone."

  The Professorin spoke words of hope and comfort to her, and asked herwhether she had ever mentioned in confession what she now confessed toher. Manna said no, and then threw herself upon her knees before theMother, and besought her to tell no one what she had related of herfather. But she started up suddenly as if bitten by a serpent, when theProfessorin told her that she had known it all a long while, that ithad been a heavy burden to her, but that it was the duty of theinnocent not to withdraw themselves from one who seeks to efface awretched past.

  A strange agitation swept over Manna's countenance.

  "Who else knows it? Tell me."

  "Why should I, my child? Why do you so torment your soul, and make itwander from house to house, from man to man, crushed, begging, andimploring forgiveness?"

  "My prayer, my sacrifice is rejected; I am cast out, we are all castout. No, I am free; the holy ones in heaven have not been willing toaccept my sacrifice. It shall live within my own bosom only, withinmyself, within my crushed and shattered heart. I am free--free."

  "Your laugh makes me feel uneasy," said the Professorin, who wasobserving closely the play of Manna's features. Manna moaned that hersorrow was sevenfold.

  "Ah!" she exclaimed, "I have spoken with my brother only once aboutslavery, and then I felt as if something was whirling around me, whenhe said, Beings who are admitted to religious life are our equals. Heis right; whoever enters the sanctuary of the knowledge of God is afree child of God; and I shuddered when I thought for the first timehow it could be possible for a man to be praying in church, and havenear by, separated from him only by a railing, men who were slaves. Isnot his every word of prayer, is not his offering, a lie? It was afrightful pathway upon which I had entered, and all the powers of evilwere pushing me on further and further. How is it then? how can apriest receive the child of a man, how could he receive us into thechurch, while our father still----"

  As if a weight lay on her heart. Manna placed her hand there, andseemed unable to go on.

  The Professorin consoled her.

  "My child," she said, "do not lay the blame on Religion; cast no stoneat those who cannot accomplish everything, who cannot equalize all theinequalities that have come into the world from sin. The temple isgreat, pure, and sublime, even though cares, sloth, and base submissionhave found hiding-places in it."

  From the bottom of her heart, the Professorin sought to keep Manna fromlosing her hold upon religion; she spoke with enthusiasm of those whodevote their whole existence to the Most High, who restlessly work andstrive, without reward, to fashion the earth into a dwelling-place oflove and virtue.

  Manna looked up astonished at the woman who thus counselled her; herlips parted, but she could not utter the words that lay upon hertongue; she wanted to ask. "But are you not a Huguenot?" But she keptback the words, for it seemed to her at this moment as if everydifference in form of religious belief had been blotted out; here wasindeed nothing but a heart simple in its purpose, gentle, patient,suffering, and devoted to good. Now she felt that she had fully andentirely devoted herself to the noble woman; she flung herself into herarms; with tears in her eyes she kissed the Mother's cheeks, forehead,and hands, and asked her to lay her hands upon her head, and save herfrom dying of grief.

  Silent and locked in each other's arms sat the two women, when a knockwas heard at the door.

  Sonnenkamp called out that he must speak with his daughter.

  "You must speak to him," said the Professorin.

  Manna rose, and pushed back the bolts of the door.

  Sonnenkamp entered.

  "I am glad you are well again," said he in a clear voice to theProfessor's wife.

  He did not dream with what eyes the Professorin and his child regardedhim.

  "I thank you," he continued, making a gesture which was intended tosignify that he desired to be alone with Manna.

  Manna perceived it, and she begged--she could not express her agony,but she begged earnestly--that her father would permit the Professorinto be present at the conversation; she had no secrets from the noblewoman.

  Sonnenkamp shrugged his shoulders.

  Was it possible? No, it could not be, his own child could not havebetrayed him.

  He now said plainly that he would rather speak with Manna alone.

  The Professorin rose to go, and Sonnenkamp begged her in a kindly toneto keep his wife company during his absence, and give her all theinstruction and advice necessary to enable her to enter upon her newsphere of life with becoming repose and dignity.

  The Professorin bowed and left them.

  Manna had to sit down; she felt as if her limbs would never againsupport her; Sonnenkamp said to her that she had doubtless long agoforgotten the bitter epithet that her mother had applied to him; shemight now go to her mother, who would assure her, that she had onlymade use of the words in anger.

  Manna nodded, without saying a word; and then Sonnenkamp spoke of hermarriage with Pranken, in regard to which he took a pride in feelingthat he had never laid any constraint upon his child. Manna imploredhim not to press the matter upon her then.

  "Very well, you need not make up your mind till our return, but promiseme to be friendly to him."

  Manna could promise this, and Sonnenkamp smiled inwardly at the thoughtof his keeping Pranken in suspense until everything was
finallyarranged; if any insurmountable difficulty came up then, it could notchange what would be already settled.

  "You are now a Freifraeulein," said he impressively and smiling to hischild, "you shall be free in everything; only, to-day, let everythingremain still in suspense. I cannot be dishonorable." He really meant,that he did not so much mind deceiving Pranken, but he added that itwould be much more proper to consent or to refuse when they had beenfor a short time, in the full possession of their new rank. And withthat, he took leave of his child with friendly words.

  At noon there was great rejoicing at the villa, for the Ensign with anumber of his comrades had arrived; they rode out with Roland, who wastreated as one of themselves.

  In accordance with Pranken's wish, they started that evening for thecapital.

  When Roland took leave of Eric's mother, she gave him a paper on whichwas written,--

  On the rim of the Hero Roland's helmet was once and is again inscribed,in golden letters,--"The weapons of the whole world must leave me stillunstained."