Charles Auchester Volume I Part 37

"'I do not care to pull thy chain now, but I should like to watch thy face while I tell thee.'

"So then, Master Carl, this elf stood upright on my knees, and spread out his arms, and laughed loud till the wet pearls shone; and while I held his feet--for I thought he would fly away--says he to mock me,--

"'Now, Master Aronach, thou mayest go home and play with thy little sister at kings and queens, and never do any more lessons till thou art twelve years old; for that is the time to be a man and do great things: and now thou art a poor baby, who cannot do anything but play and go to sleep. And all the big books are put away, and n.o.body is to bring them out again until thou art big and canst keep awake.'

"Then I looked at him hard, to see whether he was still mocking me; but when I found he looked rather about to cry, I set him down, and took my hat, and walked out of my house to the lower ramparts. On the lower ramparts stood the fine house of his father, and I rang the bell quite free, and went boldly up the stairs. His mother was alone in her grand drawing-room, and I said that she might either come and fetch him away altogether, or let him stay with me and amuse himself as he cared for; that I would not teach him for those years to come, as he had said. The stately lady was offended, and carried him off from me altogether; and when he went he was very proud, and would not shed one tear, though he clung round my collar and whispered, elf that he was,--'I shall come back when I am twelve. Hush! master, hush!'"

"And did he come back?" I cried, no less in ecstasy at the story than at the confidence reposed in me.

"All in good time--peace," said Aronach. "I never saw him again until the twenty-second morning of May, in the fourth year after his mother carried him off. I heard of the wonder-boy from every mouth,--how he was taken here, and flourished there, to show off; and petted and praised by the king; and I thought often how piteous was it thus to spoil him. On that very morning I was up betimes, and was writing a letter to an old friend of mine whose daughter was dead, when I heard feet like a fawn that was finding quick way up my dark stairs, and I stopped to listen. The door was burst open all in a moment, as if by the wind, and there he stood, in his little hat and feather and his gay new dress, bright as a birthday prince, with a huge lumbering flower-pot in his two little arms. He set that upon the floor and danced up to me directly, climbing upon my knees. 'Will you take me back? For I am twelve, and n.o.body else can teach me! I know all _they_ know.'

"He folded his little arms together round my collar, and held on there tight. What a minimus he was! scarcely a half-foot taller; but with such a n.o.ble air, and those same kind eyes of old. I pinched his fair cheek, which was red as any rose; but it was only a blossom born of the morning air: as he still sat upon my knees, the beauteous color fell, faded quite away, and left him pale,--pale as you now see him, Master Carl."

"Oh, sir! tell me a little, little more. What did he tell you? What did he do?"

"He told me, with the pale face pressed against my coat, 'Thou seest, sweet master, I would not take pains just at first, and mamma was very grand; she never blessed me for a week, and I never kissed her. I did lessons with her, though, and tried to plague her, and played very sad, very ill, and would hardly read a bar. So mamma took it into her head to say that _you_ had not taught me properly; and I grew very wild, angry,--so hurt at least that I burst out, and ran downstairs, and came no more for lessons five whole days. Then I begged her pardon, and she sent for Herr Hummel to teach me. I played my very best to Herr Hummel, master mine!'

"'I daresay he did,' thought I, 'the naughty one! the elf!' There he lay back with his pale face, and all the mischief in his starry eyes.

"'And Herr Hummel,' my loveling went on, pursing his lips, 'said he could not teach me to play, but perhaps he could teach me to write. So I wrote for him ever so many pages, and he could not read them, for I wrote so small, so small; and Herr Hummel has such very weak eyes!'

"Oh! how naughty he looked, lying across my knees!

"'And then,' he prattled, 'mamma set herself to look for somebody very new and great; and she picked up Monsieur Milans-Andre, who is a very young master, only nineteen years old; and mamma says he is a great genius. Now, as for me, dear master, I don't know what a great genius is; but if Monsieur Andre be one, _thou_ art not one, nor I.'

"Oh, the haughty one! still prattling on,--

"'I did take pains, and put myself back, that he might show me over again what you, dear master, had taught me, so that I never forget, and could not forget, if I tried; and in a year I told mamma I would never touch the harpsichord again if she did not promise I should come back to you again. She said she couldn't promise, and, master, I never _did_ again touch the harpsichord, but instead, I learned what was better, to play on Monsieur Andre's grand pianoforte!'

"'And how didst thou admire that, eh?' I asked, rather curious about the matter.

"'Oh! it is very comfortable; I feel quite clear about it, and have written for it some things. But Monsieur Andre is to go a tour, so he told mamma yesterday, and this morning before he came I ran away, and I am returned to you, and have brought my tree to keep my birthday with you. And, master mine, I _won't_ go back again!'

"Before I could answer him, as I expected, comes a pull at the bell to draw the house down, and up the stairs creaks Rathsherr Seraphael, the father, a mighty good looking and very grand man. He takes a seat, and looks queer and awful. But the little one, quitting me, dances round and round his chair and kisses away that frown.

"'Dear and beautiful papa, thou must give me leave to stay I am thine only son!'

"'Thou art indeed, and hast never before disobeyed me. Why didst thou run away, my Adonais?'

"'Papa, _he_ can only teach me; I will _not_ leave him, for I must obey music before you, and in him music calls me.'

"He ran back to my knee, and there his father left him (but very disconcerted), and I don't know how they settled it at home. But enough for me, there was never any more difficulty, and he and I kept his birthday together; the little candles burned out among the linden-flowers, and beautiful presents came for him and for me from the great house on the ramparts.

"And he never left me," added Aronach, with a prodigious pleasure too big to conceal either by word or look, "he never left me until he set off for his travels all over Europe, during which travels I removed, and came up here a long distance from the old place, where I had him all to myself, and he was all to me."

"Thanks, dear master, if I too may so call you. I shall always feel that you are; but I did not know how very much you had to do with him."

"Thou mayest so name me, because thou art not wanting in veneration, and canst also be _mastered_."

"Thanks forever. And I may keep this precious paper? In your own writing, sir, it will be more than if you had said it, you know, though I should have remembered every word. And the story, too, is just as safe as if you had written it for me."

And so it was.

END OF VOL. I.

FOOTNOTE:

[17] Famous theorists and contrapuntists of the eighteenth century; the latter was the teacher of Beethoven.