Full of alarm and anxiety, Fräulein Aennchen now made haste to her kitchen garden, with the view of trying to save whatever it might be possible to save. The maid-servant was there already, standing staring before her with open mouth, motionless as a person turned like Lot’s wife into a pillar of salt. Aennchen at once fell into the same condition beside her. At last they both cried out, making the welkin ring, “Oh, Herr Gemini! What a terrible sort of thing! ” For the whole beautiful vegetable garden was turned into a wilderness. Not the trace of a plant in it, it looked like an empty barren.
“No,” cried the maid, “there’s no other way of accounting for it, these cursed little creatures have done it coming here in their coaches! coaches, ha! as if they were people of quality! Ha! ha ! A lot of kobolds, that’s what they are, trust me for that Miss. And if I had a drop of holy water here I’d soon show you what all those fine things of theirs would turn to. But if they come here, the little brutes, I’ll bash the heads of them with this spade here.” And she flourished this threatening spade over her head, while Anna wept aloud. But at this point, four members of Cordovanspitz’s suite came up with such very pleasant ingratiating speeches and such courteous reverences, being such wonderful creatures to behold, at the same time that the maid, instead of attacking them with the spade, let it slowly sink, and Fräulein Aennchen ceased weeping.
They announced themselves as being the four friends who were the most immediately attached to their lord’s person, saying that they belonged to four different nationalities (as their dress indicated, symbolically, at all events), and that their names were, respectively, Pan Kapustowicz, from Poland; Herr von Schwartzrettig, from Pomerania; Signor di Broccoli, from Italy; and Monsieur de Rocambolle, from France. They said, moreover, that the builders would come directly, and afford the beautiful lady the gratification of seeing them erect a lovely palace, all of silk, in the shortest possible time.
“What good will the silken palace be to me?” cried Fräulein Aennchen, weeping aloud in her bitter sorrow. “And what do I care abut your Baron Cordovanspitz, now that you have gone and destroyed my beautiful vegetables, wretched creatures that you are. All my happy days are over.”
But the polite interlocutors comforted her, and assured her that they had not by any means had the blame of desolating the kitchen garden, and that, moreover, it would very soon be growing green and flourishing in such luxuriance as she had never seen, or anybody else in the world for that matter.
The little building-people arrived, and then there began such a mad, confused dashing back and forth that Fräulein Anna and the maid ran away quite frightened, and took shelter behind some thickets, whence they could see what would happen.
But though they couldn’t explain to themselves how things could come about as they did, there arose before their eyes, in a few minutes’ time, a lofty and magnificent pavilion tent, made of a golden-yellow material and ornamented with many-coloured garlands and plumes, occupying the whole extent of the vegetable garden, so that its guy ropes extended away over the village and into the wood beyond, where they were made fast to sturdy trees.
As soon as this tent was ready, Baron Porphyrio came down with Herr Dapsul from the astronomical tower, after profuse embraces resumed his seat in the coach and eight, and in the same order in which they had made their entry into Dapsulheim, he and his following went into the silken palace, which, when the last of the procession was within it, instantly closed itself up.
Fräulein Aennchen had never seen her papa as he was then. The melancholy which had hitherto always so distressed him had completely disappeared from his countenance. One would really almost have said he smiled. There was a sublimity about his facial expression such as sometimes indicates that some great and unexpected happiness has come upon a person. He led his daughter by the hand in silence into the house, embraced her three times consecutively, and then broke out:
“Fortunate Anna! Thrice happy girl! Fortunate father! Oh, daughter, all sorrow and melancholy, all solicitude and misgiving are over for ever! Yours is a fate such as falls to the lot of few mortals. This Baron Porphyrio von Ockerodastes, otherwise known as Cordovanspitz, is by no means a hostile gnome, although he is descended from one of those elemental spirits who, however, was so fortunate as to purify his nature by the teaching of Oromasis the Salamander. The love of this being was bestowed upon a daughter of the human race, with whom he formed a union, and became founder of the most illustrious family whose name ever adorned a parchment. I have an impression that I told you before, beloved daughter Anna, that the pupil of the great Salamander Oromasis, the noble gnome Tsilmenech (a Chaldean name, which interpreted into our language has a somewhat similar significance to our word ‘Thickhead’), bestowed his affection on the celebrated Magdalena de la Croix, abbess of a convent at Cordova in Spain, and lived in happy wedlock with her for nearly thirty years. And a descendant of the sublime family of higher beings which sprung from this union is our dear Baron Porphyrio von Ockerodastes, who has adopted the sobriquet of Cordovanspitz to indicate his ancestral connection with Cordova in Spain, and to distinguish himself by it from a more haughty but less worthy collateral line of the family, which bears the title of savannas.’ That a ‘spitz’ has been added to the ‘Cordova’ doubtless possesses its own astrological causes; I have not as yet gone into that subject. Following the example of his illustrious ancestor the gnome Tsilmenech, this splendid Ockerodastes of ours fell in love with you when you were only twelve years of age (Tsilmenech had done precisely the same thing in the case of Magdalena de la Croix). He was fortunate enough at that time to get a small gold ring from you, and now you wear his, so that your betrothal is indissoluble.”
“What?” cried Fräulein Aennchen, in fear and amazement. “What? I betrothed to him—I to marry that horrible little kobold? Haven’t I been engaged for ever so long to Herr Amandus von Nebelstern ? No, I never will have that hideous monster of a wizard for a husband. I don’t care whether he comes from Cordova or from Saffian.”
“There,” said Herr Dapsul von Zabelthau more gravely, “there I perceive, to my sorrow and distress, how impossible it is for celestial wisdom to penetrate into your withered mundane mind. You stigmatize this noble, elemental Porphyrio von Ockerodastes as ‘horrible’ and ‘ugly,’ probably, I presume, because he is only three feet high, and, with the exception of his head, has very-little worth speaking of on his body in the shape of arms, legs, and other appurtenances; and an earthly idiot, such as you probably admire, can’t have legs long enough, on account of coattails. Oh, my daughter, in what a terrible misapprehension you are involved! All beauty lies in wisdom, in the thought; and the physical symbol of thought is the head. The more head, the more beauty and wisdom. And if mankind could but cast away all the other members of the body as pernicious articles of luxury tending to evil, they would reach the condition of a perfect ideal of the highest type. Whence come all trouble and difficulty, vexation and annoyance, strife and contention—in short, all the depravities and miseries of humanity-but from the accursed luxury and voluptuousness of the members? Oh, what joy, what peace, what blessedness there would be on earth if the human race could exist without arms or legs, or the nether parts of the body—in short, if we were nothing but busts! Therefore it is a happy idea of the sculptors to represent great statesmen, or celebrated men of science and learning as busts, symbolically indicating the higher nature within them. Wherefore, my daughter Anna, no more of such words as ‘ugly and abominable’ applied to the noblest of spirits, the grand Porphyrio von Ockerodastes, whose bride-elect you most indubitably are.
“I must just tell you, at the same time, that with his important aid your father will soon attain that highest step of bliss towards which he has so long been striving. Porphyrio von Ockerodastes is in possession of authentic information that I am beloved by the sylph Nehabilah (which in Syriac has very much the signification of our expression ‘Peaky nose’), and he has promised to assist me to the utmost of his power to r
ender myself worthy of a union with this higher spiritual nature. I have no doubt whatever, my dear child, that you will be well satisfied with your future stepmother. All I hope is, that a favourable destiny may so order matters that our marriages may both take place at one and the same fortunate hour.”
Having thus spoken, Herr Dapsul von Zabelthau, casting a significant glance at his daughter, left the room.
It was a great weight on Aennchen’s heart that she remembered having, a great while ago, lost a little gold ring, such as a child might wear, from her finger. So that it really seemed too certain that this abominable little wizard of a creature had her enmeshed in his net, so that she couldn’t see how she was ever to get out of it. And thus she fell into the utmost grief and bewilderment. She had to relieve her oppressed heart; and this took place through the medium of a goose-quill, which she seized, and at once wrote off to Herr Amandus von Nebelstern as follows:
My dearest Amandus—
All is over with me completely. I am the most unfortunate creature in the whole world, and I’m sobbing and crying for sheer misery so terribly that the dear dumb animals themselves are sorry for me. And you’ll be still sorrier than they are, because it’s just as great a misfortune for you as it is for me, and you can’t help being quite as much distressed about it as I am myself. You know that we love one another as fondly as any two lovers possibly can, and that I am betrothed to you, and that papa was going with us to the church. Very well. All of a sudden a nasty little creature comes here in a coach and eight, with a lot of people and servants, and says I have changed rings with him, and that he and I are engaged. And just fancy how awful! papa says as well, that I must marry this little wretch, because he belongs to a very grand family. I suppose he very likely does, judging by his following and the splendid dresses they have on. But the creature has such a horrible name that, for that alone if it were for nothing else, I never would marry him. I can’t even pronounce the heathenish words of the name; but one of them is Cordovanspitz, and it seems that is the family name. Write and tell me if these Cordovanspitzes really are so very great and aristocratic a family—people in the town will be sure to know if they are. And the things papa takes in his head at his time of life I really can’t understand; but he wants to marry again, and this nasty Cordovanspitz is going to get him a wife that flies in the air. God protect us! Our servant girl is looking over my shoulder, and says she hasn’t much of an opinion of ladies who can fly in the air and swim in the water, and that she’ll have to be looking out for another situation, and hopes, for my sake, that my stepmother may break her neck the first time she goes riding through the air to St. Walpurgis. Nice state of things, isn’t it? But all my hope is in you. For I know you are the person who must and will, and will save me from a great danger. The danger has come, so be quick, and rescue
Your grieved to death, but most true and loving fiancée,
Anna von Zabelthau.
P.S.-Couldn’t you call this yellow little Cordovanspitz out? I’m sure you could win. He’s feeble on his legs.
What I implore you to do is to put on your things as fast as you can and hasten to
Your most unfortunate and miserable,
But always most faithful fiancée,
Anna von Zabelthau.
IV
Fräulein Aennchen was so miserable and distressed that she felt paralyzed in all her members. She was sitting at the window with folded arms gazing straight before her, heedless of the cackling, crowing, and queaking of the fowls, who couldn’t understand why she didn’t come and drive them into their roosts as usual, seeing that the twilight was coming on fast. Nay, she sat there with perfect indifference and allowed the maid to carry out this duty, and to hit the big cock (who opposed himself to the state of things and evinced decided resistance to her authority) a good sharp whang with her whip. For the love-pain which was rending her own heart was making her indifferent to the troubles of the dear pupils of her happier hours—those which she devoted to their upbringing, although she had never studied Chesterfield or Knigge, or consulted Madame de Genlis, or any of those other authorities on the mental culture of the young, who know to a hair’s-breadth exactly how they ought to be moulded. In this respect she really laid herself open to censure for lack of due seriousness.
All that day Cordovanspitz had not shown himself, but had been shut up in the tower with Herr Dapsul, no doubt assisting in the carrying on of important operations. But now Fräulein Aennchen caught sight of the little creature coming tottering across the courtyard in the glowing light of the setting sun. And it struck her that he looked more hideous in that yellow habit of his than ever before. The ridiculous manner in which he went wavering about, jumping here and there, seeming to topple over every minute and then pick himself up again (at which anybody else would have died of laughing), only caused her the bitterer distress. Indeed, she at last held her hands in front of her eyes, so that she mightn’t so much as see the little horrid creature at all. Suddenly she felt something tugging at her dress, and cried “Down, Feldmann!” thinking it was the dachshund. But it was not the dog; and what Fräulein Aennchen saw when she took her hands from her eyes was the Herr Baron Porphyrio von Ockerodastes, who hoisted himself into her lap with extraordinary agility, and clasped both his arms about her. She screamed aloud with fear and disgust, and started up from her chair. But Cordovanspitz kept clinging on to her neck, and instantly became so wonderfully heavy that he seemed to weigh a ton at least, and he dragged the unfortunate Aennchen back again into her chair. Having got her there, however, he slid down out of her lap, sank on one knee as gracefully as possible, and as prettily as his weakness in the direction of equilibrium permitted, and said, in a clear voice—rather peculiar, but by no means unpleasing: “Adored Anna von Zabelthau, most glorious of ladies, most choice of brides-elect; no anger, I implore, no anger, no anger. I know you think my people laid waste your beautiful vegetable garden to put up my palace. Oh, powers of the universe, if you could but look into this little body of mine which throbs with magnanimity and love; if you could but detect all the cardinal virtues which are collected in my breast, under this yellow satin habit. Oh, how guiltless I am of the shameful cruelty which you attribute to me! How could a beneficent prince treat in such a way his very own subjects. But hold—hold! What are words, phrases? You must see with your own eyes, my betrothed, the splendours which attend you. You must come with me at once. I will lead you to my palace, where a joyful people await the arrival of her who is beloved by their lord.”
It may be imagined how terrified Fräulein Aennchen was at this proposition of Cordovanspitz’s, and how hard she tried to avoid going so much as a single step with the little monster. But he continued to describe the extraordinary beauty and the marvellous richness of the vegetable garden which was his palace, in such eloquent and persuasive language, that at last she thought she would just have a peep into the tent, as that couldn’t do her much harm. The little creature, in his joy and delight, turned at least twelve catherine wheels in succession, and then took her hand with much courtesy, and led her through the garden to the silken palace.
With a loud “Ah!” Fräulein Aennchen stood riveted to the ground with delight when the curtains of the entrance drew apart, displaying a vegetable garden stretching away further than the eye could reach, of such marvellous beauty and luxuriance as was never seen in the loveliest dreams. Here there was growing and flourishing everything in the nature of cabbage and greens, roots and salads, peas and beans, in such a shimmer of light, and in such luxuriance that it is impossible to describe it. A band of pipes, drums and cymbals sounded louder, and the four gentlemen whose acquaintance she had previously made, viz. Herr von Schwartzrettig, Monsieur de Rocambolle, Signor di Broccoli and Pan Kapustowicz, approached with many ceremonious reverences.
“My chamberlains,” said Porphyrio von Ockerodastes, smiling; and preceded by them, he conducted Fräulein Aennchen between the double ranks of the bodyguard of Red English Carrots
to the center of the plain, where stood a splendid throne. Around this throne were assembled the grandees of the realm; the Lettuce Princes with the Bean Princesses, the Dukes of Cucumber with the Prince of Melon at their head, the Cabbage Minister, the General Officer of Onions and Carrots, the Colewort ladies and so on, all in the gala dresses of their rank and station. And amid them moved up and down well on to a hundred of the prettiest and most delightful Lavender and Fennel pages, diffusing sweet perfume. When Ockerodastes had ascended the throne with Fräulein Aennchen, Chief Court-Marshal Turnip waved his long wand of office, and immediately the band stopped playing, and the multitude listened in reverential silence as Ockerodastes raised his voice and said, in solemn accents, “My faithful and beloved subjects, you see by my side the noble Fräulein Anna von Zabelthau, whom I have chosen to be my consort. Rich in beauty and virtues, she has long watched over you with the eye of maternal affection, preparing soft and succulent beds for you, caring for you, and tending you with ceaseless ardour. She will ever be a true and befitting mother of this realm. Wherefore I call upon you to evince and give expression to the dutiful approval, and the duly regulated rejoicing at the favour and benefit which I am graciously about to confer upon you.”
At a signal given by Chief Court-Marshal Turnip there arose the shout of a thousand voices, the Bulb Artillery fired their pieces, and the band of the Carrot Guard played the celebrated National Anthem—
Salad and lettuce, and parsley so green.
It was a grand, a sublime moment, which drew tears from the eyes of the grandees, particularly from those of the Colewort ladies. Fräulein Aennchen, too, nearly lost all her self-control when she noticed that little Ockerodastes had a crown on his head all sparkling with diamonds, and a golden sceptre in his hand.
“Ah!” she cried clapping her hands. “Oh, Gemini! You seem to be something much grander than we thought, my dear Herr von Cordovanspitz.”
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