Das landhaus am Rhein. English

by Berthold Auerbach

  CHAPTER VII.

  SICK AT HEART.

  The morning air was fresh and cool. Bertram was not on the box of thecarriage, but a hired coachman sat next to Lootz. Roland knew thehorses, and wanted to take the stranger's place, but Sonnenkamp said ina hoarse voice:--

  "No, my child, don't leave me. Sit with me. Stay with me."

  Roland obeyed, and took a seat in the close carriage, with his fatherand Pranken. They drove in silence through the city, each thinking:When, and under what circumstances, will you ever come here again?Roland looked out as they were passing the pleasure-grounds, where inthe summer they had excited so much attention at the officers'entertainment. Withered leaves were lying on the tables, and everythingwas bare and desolate. Sighing and shutting his eyes, Roland leanedback in the corner of the carriage. The bloom of youth had faded out ofhis countenance over night, and everything was wilted like a flowertouched by the frost.

  They drove along, for a time, without speaking. Roland, however, soonheard his father making himself merry over the unadulterated rascalityof mankind, and one and another person who were generally spoken ofwith respect and held in high estimation were spoken of as hardly fitto associate with galley-slaves. A beginning was made with theCabinetsrath, who had allowed himself to be bribed in such a way, andyet could act as if there had never been anything of the kind. And so,in succession, the good name of everybody was torn into shreds.

  Pranken let Sonnenkamp expend his violence and rage, not saying a wordeven when Clodwig was attacked. What was the use! It is the delight ofone suffering under mortification, above all one who is sufferingthrough his own fault, to bring down others to his own level. Rolandwas deeply, troubled, and his heart grew cold at the thought of beingable to hold his own position only by being made thoroughly acquaintedwith, and keeping constantly before his eyes, the darker side of allhuman beings.

  Tenderly and cautiously, Pranken began to bring into notice the ideathat a firm religious belief was the only adequate support, and heopenly inveighed against those who would withdraw this support, theonly real one, and the highest, from one who relied upon it. Rolandknew that Eric was intended, but he did not let it be seen. Prankenwent farther, and said that Eric's father, whom mother and son deckedout as a demi-god, was a man who at the university had no scholars, andat whom all the learned men had shrugged their shoulders.

  Gloomy thoughts, like cloudy forms, thronging in succession, overcastthe soul of the youth. One thought prevailed over all others, andallowed him no rest:--Yesterday, honor was everything; to-day, it hasno existence. What is honor? It is the seasoning in each particle oflife's food, and without it existence is tasteless. This thoughtstartled Roland as if he had seen some terrific vision. He saw theclouds actually before him, in the shape of dense volumes of smoke fromSonnenkamp's cigar. A voice cried out, in mock-merriment, from themidst of the cloud: The people in the whole region round ought to givehim a special vote of thanks, for now they were, in comparison withhim, snow-white angels, and all that they needed was a pair of wings.All the little men and little woman could say: Lord, I thank thee thatI am not like this Sonnenkamp here. "I am truly a godsend to you; thankme, O world!"

  This humor pleased Pranken, and he said, laughing, that no one, a yearhence, after one had become accustomed to it, would think anything ofthe present troubles; and he would urgently entreat that not a wordshould be said about selling the villa and moving away.

  Sonnenkamp gave Pranken a nudge, but he had no idea that thiscommunication, although it gave Roland anew the feeling ofhomelessness, affected him far less than the jeering outburst of hisfather concerning the thanks due him from the world.

  A disintegration of the thoughts and feelings of the youth had takenplace, and it was impossible to anticipate what changes might bebrought about in these different elements through the introduction of anew agency. A feeling had been awakened within him, that he must bearan indelible stain for his whole lifetime.

  The mists dissolved, the day was bright, the sun shone warmly, butSonnenkamp was chilly, and wrapped himself in his cloak. He sat in thecarriage, staring out upon the road, but he saw nothing except theshadow of one of the horses, and this shadow was moving its legs to andfro. Is everything only a shadow in like manner? Is what moves you anddraws you onward just such a shadow as this?

  A vehicle coming towards them raised a cloud of dust, at whichSonnenkamp stared. Whenever you look at this dust, you feel as if youmust be smothered by it; but when you are in the midst of it, turn yourface away, and it is not so bad after all. Perhaps what has nowhappened is just such a whirling cloud of dust. Turn your face away.

  He saw the shepherds with their sheep upon the stubble-field, and askedhimself: Is that a better life? He wanted to sleep; he threw away hiscigar and shut his eyes. It seemed to him as if the carriage were allthe time going down hill. But when he opened his eyes, they were on thelevel road.

  Again he shut his eyes, for this was the only way he could be alone.

  And now he really went to sleep. Roland gazed in silence out into thebright sunshine. Ah, the sight of nature is helpful only to the joyous,or to one who is beginning to rally from sorrow; she brings noconsolation to the heavy laden and the deeply saddened spirit; herchangelessness, her unsympathizing and steadfast life, seem almostinsulting.

  Up to this time, Roland had lived in that twilight realm whichseparates youth from manhood, and now the period of youth was closed.His pride had been turned to shame, but he was mature enough to forgethimself soon, and to direct his regards to his father, who is doublyunhappy; unhappy on his own account, and on account of having broughtharm upon others--upon those nearest to him.

  Sonnenkamp slept; but in his dreamy state between wakefulness andsleep, the rattling carriage-wheels seemed to him the clanking chainsof fettered slaves.

  He woke suddenly, and stared as if bewildered. Where was he? What hadhappened? He wrapped himself in his cloak again, and hid his face.

  Pranken bent toward Roland, whispering to him:--

  "I know how you are inwardly shattered, but there is one cure for you,a grand act, the most sublime deed."

  "What is it?"

  "Speak lower, don't wake up your father. The one thing for you todo,---it is grand,--the great and noble thing for you is to enter thePapal army; this is the only thing to be done. This is the last, thehighest tower to be defended now, and if that falls, the atheists andcommunists have won the day. I would do it myself, if----"

  "Yes," interrupted Roland, "that would be the thing! We give away allour property to the Holy Father, and he issues a bull in favor of theabolition of slavery."

  Sonnenkamp could not keep asleep any longer.

  "That's right, my young fellow," he cried. "That's right! the Popeought to do it. But do you believe that he will do now for money--evenwere it ten times as much--what he has not done of himself? The idea isa grand one, Herr von Pranken, very grand and very--very shrewd."

  There was a little raillery in this commendation, for he thought: Youwant to get the whole inheritance, and hand over my son to the knife.

  "But my dear, noble, high-aspiring young friend," was what he saidaloud, "honestly, do you believe that the Pope will do what our Rolandexpects?"

  "No."

  They drove on in silence. They saw the Villa in the distance, and onthe tower the banner of the American Union was flying, together withthe green and yellow flag of the country.

  When they came to the green cottage, Roland asked to got out of thecarriage, and permission was given.

  Roland went into the garden, where a bright voice called to him:--

  "Mutual congratulations! we congratulate you, and you shouldcongratulate us, too; we are betrothed."

  Lina and the Architect were coming, holding each other's hand, throughthe meadow from the Villa. Lina left her lover and came up to Roland,saying:--

  "We didn't want to wait until the dedication of the castle, we
have ourcelebration by ourselves. Oh, Roland, how beautiful and how happyeverything is in the world! But why don't you speak? Why do you make upsuch a melancholy face?"

  Roland could only wave her off, and hurried into the house. Thebetrothed remained standing in the garden, sorely puzzled, when Linasaid:--

  "Oh, Albert, there's no good in being here. Nobody welcomed us at theVilla, Manna was not to be seen, Herr Dournay isn't there, and Rolandruns away. Come, we'll quit the whole premises. Forgive me for havingbrought you here before going anywhere else. I thought these were thepeople to whom I should make known my happiness in the very firstplace. Come, we'll go to your castle, and spend the whole day for once;you shall be a solitary knight, and I'll be a castle-maiden. Come, Ithought there was to be a betrothal here to-day, too; but it doesn'tlook like it at all, and there's something frightful the matter."

  Lina and her betrothed went together to the castle, up through thevineyard, but they were detained at the Major's, who was standingutterly helpless by the garden-hedge.

  Such a thing had never happened as took place to-day.

  Fraeulein Milch had locked herself in her room; she must have met withsomething very extraordinary.

  The Major was perfectly delighted to hear of the betrothal, but he onlysaid:--

  "Ah, there might be one down therein the Villa, too; but I'mafraid--I'm afraid we'll hear some bad news from there."

  The Major insisted upon the betrothed couple taking a seat in hisarbor, saying that Fraeulein Milch would soon be down.

  The Fraeulein was sitting in her chamber alone, for the first time in asore struggle. The world had been a matter of indifference to her, andonly of account so far as some thing could be obtained from itagreeable to the Major. She found the neighborhood very friendly, andshe was grateful to the soil, for the Major had a good digestion, andelsewhere he suffered from dyspepsia. She was also grateful to theRhine, which occasionally furnished a nice fish, and she would nod tothe mountains, as if she would say: That's right! just produce goodwine; the Major likes to drink it when new, but he mustn't drink toomach of it. Thus was the Fraeulein kindly disposed towards man andbeast, towards water and plants; it was a matter of indifference thatnobody troubled himself about her. She had strenuously declined everyintimate connection, and now, through the Professorin, she had beendrawn more among people, and had to-day been so deeply mortified. Shehad known Bella for a long time, although very distantly, and she haddisliked her for a long time, although very distantly; but what she hadexperienced to-day was something wholly novel, and it grieved hersorely.

  "O," said she to herself, "O, Frau Countess, you are highly virtuous,virtuous in the extreme, most respectfully virtuous, and beautiful too,you are; but I was once young and beautiful, and no one has everventured to give me an uncivil word; I have gone through the streetsunattended by a servant, I was my own attendant, my own protector, andmy own support. O Frau Countess, you stand very far up on the list ofrank, I don't know but that you ought to be addressed as Your Highness!O Frau Countess, take care, there is another list of nobility which theMajor ought to give you a glimpse of; no, not he; it would mortify himto death; but Herr Dournay, he must do it. No--nobody--only myself."

  And just as she had become composed, the Major again knocked, crying:--

  "Fraeulein Milch! dear good Rosa," he added in a whisper, "Rosie,Rosalie!"

  "What do you want?" the Major heard laughingly asked.

  "Oh heavens! it's all right now you are laughing again. There are twogood people here, the Architect, and Lina the Justice's daughter; theyare betrothed, and have come to receive our congratulations. Do come,join us in the garden, and bring right off a bottle and four glasses."

  Fraeulein Milch opened the door. The Major asked:--

  "Mayn't I know what has been the matter with you?"

  "You shall know, sure enough, but don't ask me any more now. So theyoung people are betrothed, and at the house? I must dress myself up alittle, and I'll come down immediately."

  "So do. That's nice."

  Fraeulein Milch was delivered from all her own trouble, when the dutywas enjoined upon her of rejoicing with the joyful; and the betrothedcouple forgot the castle, and remained for hours sitting with the Majorand Fraeulein Milch in the arbor.

  Then the journal came, and the Major begged to be excused for readingit before his guests; he received the paper after the burgomaster, theschool-master, and the barber had read it, and so he could keep it. Ashe had nothing more to do with the world, it made no difference whetherhe learned an hour or two sooner or later what had happened.

  "Oh, here's a great black mark," exclaimed Lina.

  "That's the burgomaster's mark," said the Major. "Fraeulein Milch, wouldyou read to me? There must be something very special."

  The Fraeulein took the paper, but she covered her face with her handafter she had looked into it.

  "What's the matter? You read, dear Lina."

  Lina read the bitter paragraph by Professor Crutius; she wanted to stopafter the first few lines, but the Major begged:

  "Read on; do read on."

  She read on to the end.

  "O Thou really good Builder of all the worlds, what queer materialyou've put into the construction of the world! Good heavens! there'ssomething frightful about a newspaper; now everybody knows about this."

  Fraeulein Milch was just on the point of saying that this was no news toher, but she had the self-command, doubly difficult for a woman, tokeep from telling what she knew. It was better to say nothing, as shewould thus escape a long explanation to the Major why she had saidnothing about it a long time ago. Not till the Major begged her to goto the Professorin, who would be greatly troubled by thiscommunication, did she say:--

  "The Professorin, as well as I, knew it a long time ago."

  In his bewilderment, the Major did not ask how it happened that sheknew; he only opened his eyes wider. He had said to her a great manygood and kind things, but the best of all was when he observed:--

  "Yes. You might belong to our Brotherhood, you can keep a secret."

  After a while the Major continued:--

  "Look, children, down below there is the wonderfully beautiful Villawith its parks, its gardens, and with its millions inside thehouse--ha! and Roland and Manna. Fraeulein Milch, don't try to preventme. I must go down there, for nobody knows what's going on there, and Imust do something to help them. Don't say anything against it, FraeuleinMilch, I entreat you."

  "I haven't said anything to hinder you; on the contrary, I think youought to go."

  Before she had finished speaking, a messenger came from the Villa forthe Major to go there.

  Lina wanted to join him, thinking she might be of some assistance toManna; but the Major said that the Professorin and Aunt Claudine wereenough already, and Lina ought not to spoil now any of her happiness.

  Just as the Major was about to set off, a voice cried:--

  "Herr Major, just stop. I'm coming."

  With flushed face, and out of breath, Knopf came up.

  "Do you know it?" asked the Major.

  "Yes, indeed, and that's the reason I've come. Perhaps I can dosomething at the Villa."

  "Good! I'm going, so come with me. No, you stay here, stay with theFraeulein. I'll have you sent for if you're needed."

  And so the Major walked down the mountain, and the four who remainedfollowed him with affectionate looks.