A Twofold Life Part 25

"Yes. Understand me correctly. You have a mult.i.tude of great and lovable qualities which distinguish you from the million,--a mult.i.tude of _virtues_, but not the _virtue_ which we designate by one word, and in an indivisible sense. A person may not possess nearly as many n.o.ble traits, and yet be far more virtuous than you. Virtue is the pure, conscious will which unites the scattered capacities for good, and matures them to moral actions; and this quality you lack."

Ottmar had become very grave. _Henri_ was present no longer: _Heinrich_ had taken his place. Cornelia laid her head upon his hands, and said, in a tone of the fondest affection: "Now you are so quiet and cold, have I vexed you?"

"No, my child; but you have given me something to think about, which makes me grave. You women have a wonderful talent for moralizing. Your conscience wishes to make up for the too great indulgence of your hearts, and therefore you are the sternest censors of the man you love."

"We women? Have you said the same thing to other women?"

"Only one except yourself; but her theories were repellent. She gave me no proof in her own person that she possessed a cheering power in her own nature. She was a sad, pale, melancholy vision, so her influence over me also faded; yet, I shall always hold her memory sacred."

"Who was she? Heinrich, a shadow has fallen upon your mood: who was it you mourn for as a departed spirit?"

"A poor creature, whose suffering constantly pervades all my joys, whose misery always appears greater to me the more my own happiness increases, the more I learn to believe in the might of true feeling.

Yes, yes, Cornelia, you are right; I may have virtues, but they princ.i.p.ally exist in the fact that I can still regret the virtue I lack. Oh, if I could but cast aside my past with all its errors and reproaches, like the coc.o.o.n of a b.u.t.terfly, and soar forth in freedom as a new, winged, purified creature!"

"I will tell you the name of the unhappy woman about whom remorse is now torturing you," began Cornelia, after a pause of earnest thought,--"it is Princess Ottilie."

_Heinrich_ started up. "Girl! How did such an idea enter your head?"

Cornelia looked at him intently. "It is so."

"Who told you?"

"I thought of it myself. Ottilie imposed inviolable secrecy upon Roschen; what motive induced her to do so if she did not love you? What duty led Princess Ottilie to spare Herr von Ottmar except a tender obligation of the heart? All this, however, might be explained; but I was at the harbor when you arrived, I saw the princess turn pale, saw you approach anxiously and whisper a few words, perceived how, with a glance at you, she composed herself, how earnestly you watched her, and at last sprang to her a.s.sistance as if the whole responsibility of caring for her devolved upon you alone. I saw this lady was experiencing some great inward conflict; and your anxiety showed that you were aware of it. I felt there was some silent, mutual bond between you,--in what it exists I know not, but it does exist; and if I make it agree with what you have just said, then, _Heinrich_, I fear you have great cause for self-reproach."

"You have watched me with the eyes of love, and formed a tolerably clear idea of the true state of affairs. It would be useless to deny your guess, you would still believe it. In such matters one can deceive the world, but not the instinct of a clever woman. What shall I say to you?--spare me further particulars concerning things which are not my secret. I will freely confess that, with the exception of yourself, she was my only friend,--that I owe her much and shall always pity her."

"Poor lady!" said Cornelia, softly. "If she loves you, she is greatly to be pitied, for she can never forget you,--never be happy again!"

"Does your own heart tell you that, Cornelia?"

"Yes. Whoever has once felt the magic of your nature can never love another, and is bound to you for life; the whole world contains nothing n.o.bler than yourself."

_Heinrich_ took her hands and pressed them to his breast. "Dearest, you are my happiness and my salvation! Cornelia, I love you. I would fain breathe forth my life in those few words: 'I love you!" Cornelia felt that tears were dimming her eyes, and tried to conceal them. "Oh, do not be ashamed of these tears! Happy is the human being who can weep.

Teach me the lesson too, and you will have accomplished what not even G.o.d could do!"

"And if I should succeed, _Heinrich_, it would still be only by the help of G.o.d, who blessed my efforts. He will let me find means to do so, if he wishes to raise you by my hand. Do not smile. I cannot help calling the power to which you give a thousand t.i.tles by the name of G.o.d; cannot intentionally fail in my duty to him. I cannot live without this G.o.d,--may not deny him. When I was a child he stood beside my bed and I could talk to him. I a.s.sociated with him all my thoughts of my father; my mother appeared to me beautiful and radiant in his heavenly majesty, I have so often folded my little hands reverently and thought he heard me; and am I now to believe the soulless air wafted my fervent prayer away,--that so much love, so much devotion, was lavished an a phantom? Oh, my childish faith has increased with my growth!--it has somewhere become part of my nature; for if I try to separate from it, a pang pa.s.ses through my soul, and I feel that some spiritual nerve, the connecting link between G.o.d and myself, is wounded."

"You are a woman, Cornelia, and it would be wicked to cast a word of doubt into the sanctuary of your pious heart. We have already spoken of this matter once, and you almost made me an enthusiast."

"Is it really so?" interrupted Cornelia. "Oh, if you confess that, much is gained, and I shall henceforth work upon your 'enthusiasm'! You know, _Heinrich_, that natures like ours are always set apart from the rest of mankind. Life often becomes unendurable; reverses of fortune may occur which even philosophy can no longer help us to bear, and we can nowhere find a home. Then it is fortunate if we can flee from earth to that wonderland of fancy, our inalienable home. There are sorrows, too, _Heinrich_, which cannot endure the cla.s.sical training of an empty doctrine, and which, destroying everything in their course, dash wildly over us. Then the soul grasps for some support, and in its agony shrieks for a G.o.d; and if there were none, it would create him for itself, that its cry for help might not echo back from an empty void.

But such a self-created G.o.d gives no comfort, but jeers at you mockingly, like the spectre of your own agony, and melts away before your eyes, while the true G.o.d cannot approach to comfort you, for you do not believe in him, and only by faith does he work his miracles."

Cornelia paused; for _Heinrich_ was on his knees before her with his face buried in her lap.

"If in such an hour I still have you, I need no G.o.d!" he exclaimed, fairly beside himself.

"Do not blaspheme!" pleaded Cornelia "And suppose you did not have me? Suppose it should be G.o.d's will to separate us, and you were alone,--entirely alone?"

"Cornelia, how can you think of such a thing while you clasp me in your arms? If we should lose each other, what should I become? An embodied negation, separated from all connection with mankind, withered in mind and body,--a living corpse, to which the world is only a grave."

"_Heinrich_, dear, dear _Heinrich_! you inspire me with both compa.s.sion and horror! Oh, banish these gloomy spirits from your mind, and become light-hearted and gentle! Fate is not subdued by threats and blasphemies; the ground on which happiness willingly builds its nest must be firm and peaceful, not trembling with volcanic shocks and rumbling with peals of thunder. Come, be gentle; such wicked words suit your delicate mouth. Smile again; Veronica will soon wake up, and then we can no longer express our love in fond caresses."

"Yes, that is true!" cried _Heinrich_; "let us enjoy the moment while we may." And it was _Henri_ who now threw himself upon the sofa beside Cornelia and drew her closely to him.

Cornelia looked at him in astonishment. His eyes were beaming with ardent feeling; a warmer color tinged his cheeks; his mouth, half-pouted for a kiss was irresistibly alluring. "It often seems as if you changed places with some one, and in an instant became an entirely different man. I never saw such sudden alterations of mood."

"Ah, do not speak! kiss me!" pleaded _Henri_. "Darling, how I have longed for those lips! Many a night have I tossed as if in a fever, thirsting, yearning for you. Did you think of me when you went to rest?"

"Yes, a thousand times. I have never fallen asleep without calling 'Good-night, _Heinrich_!' and the words became my nightly prayer. I shall never forget it."

"How beautiful! What time do you say it?"

"At eleven: when I am in bed."

"In future I shall always say, 'Pleasant dreams, Cornelia!' You will remember it, won't you, my darling?"

"Of course I shall," she whispered, pressing her cheek close to his.

Light, scarcely audible footsteps approached. Cornelia started up.

"Veronica is coming!"

The door slowly opened, and she entered, kindly as ever, but pale, as if there was not a drop of blood in her sunken features. Her slender figure seemed still more shrunken, and there was not a tinge of color about the ghostly apparition except the light-blue ribbon upon her white cap. The lovely eyes were more hollow, more l.u.s.treless, than in former days; the silvery curls drooped more negligently about her face.

_Henri_ perceived a change in her, and as it soon became evident that there was no alteration in her intellectual powers it must be a bodily one. In such delicate equable natures all secret changes give very faint external tokens of their existence, and it requires a watchful, practiced eye to detect them. Cornelia was too mach preoccupied with her own feelings, the slight, gradual alterations in Veronica's appearance did not attract her attention; but _Henri_, who had not seen her for a long time, noticed them at once.

"My dear count, I did not know you were here, or I should not have yielded to the heavy slumber which always overpowers me now. I must beg you to excuse me, but I have no doubt Cornelia has entertained you so well that you have not missed me. Besides, age no longer harmonizes with youth. It is too dull for the sympathy and susceptibility required to enter into the rapidly changing details of a conversation."

"Oh, do not say that!" pleaded _Henri_. "With your fresh intellect one can accommodate one's self to every form of change; but it would be uncourteous to Fraulein Cornelia, if I did not say that I am indebted to her for a most delightful hour." He smilingly took her hand and pressed it warmly.

Veronica looked earnestly at them both, and _Henri_ noticed it.

"Are you satisfied with my influence over your Cornelia? Is she not once more as blooming as a rose?"

"Oh, I am very grateful to you for your friendship, my dear count! But, Cornelia, you are not only blooming, you are fairly glowing to-day. You must have been talking very earnestly."

Cornelia's blushes grew still deeper at this remark. She glanced at _Henri_; he was apparently gazing irresolutely into vacancy.

"What is the matter, my child? Does your head ache? You really make me uneasy."

Cornelia started up and threw herself at Veronica's feet. "No, I cannot bear it; I could keep silent, but I cannot lie. Veronica, forgive my past reserve,--it was painful enough to me but now you question me, I will tell you the truth. Veronica, must I speak plainly? Yes, yes, it is as you think."

_Henri_ was in a state of painful embarra.s.sment, and thought to himself, "Who can teach a woman to be silent?"

Veronica sat speechless and clasped her trembling hands. After a pause _Henri_ approached and touched Cornelia's head. "Here is all the happiness that earth contains. You will not refuse it to me, my motherly friend?"

"I have wished and thought that this might be, but now it has happened I am so greatly startled that I can scarcely speak!" Overpowered by her emotion, she clasped Cornelia in her arms. "My child, my only one, my all, whom I have so faithfully cherished, I confide you to the protection of this n.o.ble man, and am perfectly a.s.sured that he will make you happy. Come, my son, and receive my blessing." She laid her clasped hands upon his brow. "May G.o.d be merciful unto you and bless you, and show you the light of his countenance and be merciful unto you!"

The last words died upon her lips; the emotion was too great. She sank back, while _Henri_ and Cornelia affectionately supported her. The latter was deeply agitated. She now perceived, for the first time, in what a frail sh.e.l.l this beloved life was contained, by what feeble threads it was still bound to earth, and hot tears rolled down her cheeks. _Henri_ himself was not wholly dest.i.tute of sympathy. He esteemed Veronica, and understood Cornelia's feeling. At last she regained her consciousness, and gazed at them with her loving eyes.

"Have I alarmed you? I most sincerely regret it; but my life has long flowed an so calmly and equably that I am unaccustomed to all emotion.

But, dear Cornelia, you must remember the possibility of my leaving you. Do not weep; let the consciousness that you have never cost me a single sorrowful hour console you. You have developed a lofty, free, and n.o.ble nature, and yet always given me the submissive heart of a child; have spared my weaknesses, and never permitted me to feel how far you had risen above me. G.o.d will reward you for it. And now that my last wish is fulfilled, and I know you are safe in the arms of your betrothed, I can cheerfully depart to my sainted lover."