Das landhaus am Rhein. English

by Berthold Auerbach

  CHAPTER I.

  MANY KINDS OF LOVE.

  The modest little dwelling of the Major became once more the placewhere all sought rest and found it.

  As Eric had first gone to the Major to tell him of his happiness, sothe Cooper also, and his betrothed, first sought the Major and FraeuleinMilch, to tell their new-found joy.

  Here they met Knopf, who was an especial favorite with Fraeulein Milch,because he had a faculty for being taken care of; and besides he hadbrought her a great many books in former days, and instructed her inmany things. He must always be the young ladies' school-teacher, evenwith Fraeulein Milch.

  When Knopf heard of Eric's betrothal with Manna, he said,--

  "That is the way! If is the old story over again,--the story of themaiden freed from enchantment, which is a great favorite here on theRhine. This is a new version of it. Only a youth as pure as Dournaycould have set the pure virgin free."

  He spoke in a kind of low, dreamy mysterious tone, which so touched theMajor's heart, that he fell upon the speaker's neck, embraced andkissed him, and cried,--

  "You must enter our society. You must speak so there. That is the placefor you."

  Knopf had come to fulfil Weidmann's commission, and to make someinquiries of Eric about the black man Adams. When the Cooper and hisbetrothed entered, and the Major gave them his blessing, and FraeuleinMilch brought in a bottle of wine, Knopf was the merriest of thecompany. He could not fully say what was in his heart; but he laid hishand on the tablets in his breast-pocket, which meant, "Here is anotherbeautiful romance for me to write down. Ah, how beautiful the worldis!"

  Into the midst of this joyful company came the tidings of Sonnenkamp'sflight.

  "And we have not yet passed sentence upon him!" cried the Major.

  Fraeulein Milch smiled knowingly at the Major, as much as to say, "Did Inot tell you he was making fools of you?"

  Without waiting to finish their wine, the Major and Knopf hurried tothe Villa.

  Eric was busy with the notary, and they had to wait some time beforethey could speak with him.

  The notary had brought Eric a paper in Sonnenkamp's handwriting,which declared that he had taken with him all the property made inslave-traffic; he appointed Weidmann and Eric guardians of hischildren, and arranged for Roland's being declared of age in thespring.

  Another messenger came from Weidmann bringing the good news, that,according to a letter just received from Doctor Fritz, Abraham Lincolnhad been elected President.

  The thought passed through Eric's mind, that there might be someconnection between this event and Sonnenkamp's flight.

  He had no time to dwell upon the idea, for immediately after Weidmann'smessenger had been admitted, the Major and Knopf entered.

  News followed hard upon news. A telegram arrived, desiring Eric to goto the city and wait at the telegraph-office, as some one wished tocommunicate with him. The despatch was signed, "The Man from Eden."

  Eric requested the Major to stay with his mother and send for FraeuleinMilch to join him; at the same time he begged Knopf to bring Rolandhome, and prepare him as gently as he could for what had happened.

  From every side, fresh difficulties poured in upon Eric. How everything had come together! Clodwig's death, Sonnenkamp's flight, the fateof Roland, the fate of Manna--all weighed upon his heart.

  As he was mounting his horse, he fortunately descried ProfessorEinsiedel, to whom he told in a few words what had happened, and beggedhim to stay with Manna.

  He rode to the city. A despatch awaited him, telling that in an hour heshould receive some definite tidings.

  This suspense was most trying to Eric: he knew not what steps he shouldtake next.

  He walked through the city: everywhere were men and women safe in theprivacy of their homes, while he and his seemed cast out into thestreet. He lingered long before the Justice's house. Lina was singingher favorite song from "Figaro;" and the words, "that I with roses maygarland thy head," were given so feelingly, with so much suppressedemotion, that Eric's breath came hard as he listened. He knew just howit looked up there in the sitting-room. The Architect was leaning backin the red armchair, while his betrothed sang to him; flowers wereblooming in the window; and the whole atmosphere was rich with musicand perfume.

  Unwilling to disturb their comfort by his heavy thoughts, he returnedto the telegraph-station, and left word that he should be sent for atthe hotel if any despatch came for him.

  He sat alone in a dark corner and waited. The guests were gatheredabout the long table with their glasses of beer before them. Their talkwas dry, and seemed to make the liquor the more refreshing. Eric forcedhimself to listen to their chat. They talked of Paris, of London, ofAmerica; one man was going to one place, another to another, a thirdwas coming back: the free, mobile character of the Rhineland people wasspread out before him; they live as if always floating on their nativestream.

  Suddenly the cry was raised,--

  "Hurrah! here comes the story-teller."

  Eric recognized the man who had been a great favorite with all eversince he had spent his first night in the city, at the Doctor's house.He had one of those faces, red with constant drinking, whose colormakes it impossible to distinguish any age short of forty, and hiscountenance was as mobile as if made of gutta-percha.

  The new-comer winked to the bar-maid, who knew what kind of liquor hedrank; then he established himself comfortably in a chair, threw openhis wraps, and drew some cigar-ends out of his pocket.

  "What's the news?" asked the guests.

  The man gave the usual answer: "Fair weather, and nothing beside."

  "Where have you been for these three days, that we have seen nothing ofyou?"

  "Where a man can prolong his life."

  "What sort of a place is that?"

  "I have been in the dullnesses of the capital: and there you canprolong your life; for every day is as long as two."

  "Old, old!" cried the drinkers. "Give us something new!"

  "Something new! I tell you many lies have no truth in them, and thoseoften the best. But go out among the boats yonder; there's a jolly lifegoing on in the cabin. Each one brings his own cook-book to thewedding, and then they marry the messes together."

  The speaker was ridiculed on all sides for having nothing but suchnonsense, such dry husks, to give them.

  "If you will keep quiet, I will tell you a story; but first, one of youmust go out to the Rhine, that he may be able to bear me witnessafterwards that my story is true, as the old forester says."

  A cooper was sent out to the boat that lay at anchor in the Rhine, and,after letting him know what he was to inquire about, the man began,--

  "I do have the luck of falling in with the best stories! they comewithout my looking for them."

  "Let us hear! let us hear! Is it about that big Sonnenkamp, or aboutthe handsome Countess?"

  "Ah, bah! that would be stale: this is one fresh from the oven. It iscalled the loves of the 'Lorelei' and the 'Beethoven,' or a sucking pigas matchmaker. Oh, yes! you may laugh, but you will see that it is alltrue. To begin, then. You know the steward of the 'Lorelei?'--the greatMultiplication-table they call him. A man of standing he is, and anhonest one, too; for he honestly confesses, that, by a skilful addingup of accounts, he has added together a pretty little property forhimself. Now, he is single, frightfully so. He can eat and drink,but"--

  "Yes, yes; we know him. What next?"

  "Don't interrupt me. I must not anticipate my story: it is enough forme if I know it myself. So, then, the state of the case is this: thecaptain of the 'Lorelei,' you know him, that tall Baumlange, he wassteersman on board the 'Adolph' for some years; he managed to make hiscook's mouth water for the stewardess of the 'Beethoven,' a round,dainty little body, and two years a widow. Greetings were exchangedbetween the paper cap and the muslin; but they never spoke togetherexcept for a few minutes a fortnight ago at Cologne, when the 'Lorelei'and the 'Beeth
oven' lay side by side. Since that time, the greatMultiplication-table smiled graciously upon the 'Lorelei,' but wouldnot hear of marriage. His great delight is to get up a nice little dishthat no one should know any thing about; and so one day he prepared aneat little sucking-pig, that was to be roasted on the morrow. Now, hiscaptain knew, that the next day, and that is to-day, the two boatswould anchor here together for the night: so he steals the pig, andhands it to a fellow-captain, who, in turn, delivers it to the widow ofthe 'Beethoven,' with directions to serve it up nicely, and somethingelse with it, which order she obeys with a good will. Then the Captaininvites his steward to supper on board the 'Beethoven;' and, since thestewardess has furnished the meat, it was but fair that the 'Lorelei'Multiplication-table should add the wine. They sit down to supper onboard the 'Beethoven,' the stewardess of course, with them, and allgoes on merrily. The Multiplication-table said a pig could not bebetter served, and that it was almost as fine a one as his. Then thetrick came out; but they took it in good part, and the upshot of it allwas, that the two were betrothed over the little pig."

  The story-teller had got thus far in his tale, when the cooper returnedwith the Captain of the 'Lorelei,' who confirmed the whole history. Themerriment became noisy and riotous; and the Captain told how thenewly-betrothed couple were sitting together, and how the same tasteswere in both of them. They collected all the gold they could in thesummer, and now they were sitting and laughing together as theypolished it up with soap-suds.

  Eric listened to it all as if he were in another world. There are stillthose, then, who can take life lightly: a change for the better mustcome in time.

  Now the pilot entered, who, as custom required, had been taken on boardthe steamer for a little while, to steer it through the part of thestream he was familiar with. He amazed the company by telling themthat, the night before, in the storm, the Countess von Wolfsgarten andHerr Sonnenkamp had gone down the river: he had recognized them bothdistinctly.

  Eric had risen from his seat to question the man further, when he wassummoned to the telegraph station. The despatch, which was signed, likethe first, "the man from Eden," was to the effect that the writer wasto sail the next morning for the New World, and that if, in the courseof a year, no further tidings were received from him, he might beconsidered dead. It almost seemed as if the last part of the telegramcould not have been correctly written; for the question was asked,whether Frau Ceres was living, and in what condition. In case ofwishing to send any news of her to the New World, the name of aSouthern paper was given, in which a paragraph should be inserted overthe initials S. B.

  While Eric was still holding the despatch in his hand, Pranken entered,and signed to him to come into an adjoining room. "I was in search ofyou," he said. He looked pale and agitated, and Eric was fully preparedto receive a challenge. His first question, however, was, whether Ericknew whither Sonnenkamp had fled, and how he could be addressed. Ericreplied that he was not at liberty to answer that question.

  "Ask him then whether"--he could hardly bring his lips to utter what hehad to say,--"ask him whether there is anyone with him. No, betterstill, give me his address."

  Eric repeated that he was not at liberty to do so. Pranken gnashed histeeth with rage.

  "Very well: ask him yourself, then, whether any one is with him aboutwhom I have a right to inquire."

  As the two stood side by side, looking out upon the landscape, itsuddenly flashed through Eric's mind, that in this very room, at atable before this window, they had sat together that day over their newwine. Prompted by the feeling of gratitude that overpowered him, hesaid,--

  "I regret sincerely that there should be such ill feeling between us."

  "This is no time to speak of that--of that presently. If you will--no,I will ask no favors. You are to blame for all this wretchedcomplication: you have made every one go wrong. This would never havehappened but for you."

  A cold shudder passed through Eric's frame. Was he in truth to blamefor Bella's fall? There was an expression of humility in his face as heanswered,--

  "I am at your service; I am only waiting for a despatch."

  "Good: I will wait with you."

  Pranken left the room, and walked restlessly up and down the embankmentwithout, until the despatch arrived, and Eric summoned him.

  "Very well: now put my question."

  "Will you repeat your question to me once more exactly?"

  "How long since you became so slow of comprehension? This then. TellHerr Sonnenkamp, or Banfield, that if, before twelve hours are over, hedoes not let me know where he is, I shall take his silence as a proofthat--No! ask--outright--whether my sister is with him."

  Pranken's lips trembled: he had grown sadly old in these few days. Herehe was obliged to stand and beg for information from Sonnenkamp;information on what a subject, and at whose hands!

  "Will you have the goodness," he added, "to send the answer to me atthe parsonage?"

  He left the room, mounted his horse, and rode away.

  "Medusa sends greeting to Europe," was the answer Eric received.

  As he was about to start for home, the Doctor came up: he also hadheard of Bella's flight.

  "That is a master-piece!" he cried. "Herr Sonnenkamp, with the mostskilful diplomacy, could have done nothing better than that. Bella'sflight and fall will eclipse every thing that he himself has done. Thiswill divert tongues from him: all is eclipsed by this new development.His children, too, will be freed from the old scandal; for the fact ofBella Pranken's eloping with him will count for more than years ofselling slaves. From this time we shall hear of nothing but that: allelse is obliterated."

  Eric did not believe that the fugitives had yet started for America.

  Immediately on his return to the Villa, he was summoned to Manna.

  "Have you news of him?" she said. "Is he living?"

  "Yes."

  "Is he alone?"

  "No."

  "That, too, must we have to bear!"

  "Does your mother know?"

  "She only knows that father has fled; and she keeps crying, 'Henry,Henry, come back!' For hours, she has kept saying those words over andover. It is incredible how her strength holds out. O Eric! when we werein your father's library, Roland said, 'In all these books is there afate to compare with ours?'"

  All Eric's attempts to soothe her were fruitless.