The Adventures of Elizabeth in Rugen Part 14

Ambrose shuffled to the end of the row in his and took up two.' Look here, mother,' he said, bringing them to her, 'here's quite a new pair.

Never been worn before. Put them on--they can't possibly do any harm.'

They were not new, but Mrs. Harvey-Browne thought they were and consented to put them on. The instant they were on her feet, stretching out in all their hugeness far beyond the frills of her skirt and obliging her to slide instead of walk, she became gracious. The smile with which she slid past me was amiable as well as deprecatory. They had apparently reduced her at once to the level of other sinful mortals.

This effect seemed to me so subtle that again I fell a-pondering.

'Frau Nieberlein is not with you this morning?' she asked pleasantly, as we shuffled side by side into the princely apartments.

'She is resting. She had rather a bad night.'

'Nerves, of course.'

'No, ghosts.'

'Ghosts?'

'It's the same thing,' said Ambrose. 'Is it not, sir?' he asked amiably of the man in spectacles.

'Perhaps,' said the man in spectacles cautiously.

'But not a real ghost?' asked Mrs. Harvey-Browne, interested.

'I believe the great point about a ghost is that it never is real.'

'The bishop doesn't believe in them either. But I--I really hardly know.

One hears such strange tales. The wife of one of the clergy of our diocese believes quite firmly in them. She is a vegetarian, and of course she eats a great many vegetables, and then she sees ghosts.'

'The chimney-piece,' said the guide, 'is constructed entirely of Roman marble.'

'Really?' said Mrs. Harvey-Browne, examining it abstractedly through her eyegla.s.ses. 'She declares their vicarage is haunted; and what in the world do you think by? The strangest thing. It is haunted by the ghost of a cat.'

'The statue on the right is by Thorwaldsen,' said the guide.

'By the ghost of a cat,' repeated Mrs. Harvey-Browne impressively.

She seemed to expect me to say something, so I said Indeed.

'That on the left is by Rauch,' said the guide.

'And this cat does not do anything. I mean, it is not prophetic of impending family disaster. It simply walks across a certain room--the drawing-room, I believe--quite like a real cat, and nothing happens.'

'But perhaps it is a real cat?'

'Oh no, it is supernatural. No one sees it but herself. It walks quite slowly with its tail up in the air, and once when she went up to it to try to pull its tail so as to convince herself of its existence, she only clutched empty air.'

'The frescoes with which this apartment is adorned are by Kolbe and Eybel,' said the guide.

'You mean it ran away?'

'No, it walked on quite deliberately. But the tail not being made of human flesh and blood there was naturally nothing to pull.'

'Beginning from left to right, we have in the first a representation of the entry of King Waldemar I. into Rugen,' said the guide.

'But the most extraordinary thing about it happened one day when she put a saucer of cream on the floor for it. She had thought it all over in the night, and had come to the conclusion that as no ghost would lap cream and no real cat be able to help lapping it this would provide her with a decisive proof one way or the other. The cat came, saw the cream, and immediately lapped it up. My friend was so pleased, because of course one likes real cats best----'

'The second represents the introduction of Christianity into the island,' said the guide.

'--and when it had done, and the saucer was empty, she went over to it----'

'The third represents the laying of the foundation stone of the church at Vilmnitz,' said the guide.

'--and what do you think happened? _She walked straight through it_.'

'Through what?' I asked, profoundly interested. 'The cream, or the cat?'

'Ah, that was what was so marvellous. She walked right through the body of the cat. Now what had become of the cream?'

I confess this story impressed me more than any ghost story I have ever heard; the disappearance of the cream was so extraordinary.

'And there was nothing--nothing at all left on her dress?' I asked eagerly. 'I mean, after walking through the cat? One would have thought that some, at least, of the cream----'

'Not a vestige.'

I stood gazing at the bishop's wife absorbed in reflection. 'How truly strange,' I murmured at length, after having vainly endeavoured to account for the missing cream.

'_Wasn't_ it?' said Mrs. Harvey-Browne, much pleased with the effect of her story. Indeed the amiability awakened in her bosom by the grey felt slippers had increased rapidly, and the unaccountable conduct of the cream seemed about to cement our friendship when, at this point, she having remarked that there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy, and I, in order to show my acquaintance with the cla.s.sics of other countries, having added 'As Chaucer justly observes,' to which she said, 'Ah, yes--so beautiful, isn't he?' a voice behind us made us both jump; and turning round we beheld, at our elbows, the man in spectacles. Ambrose, aided by the guide, was on the other side of the room studying the works of Kolbe and Eybel, The man in spectacles had evidently heard the whole story of the cat, for this is what he said:--

'The apparition, madam, if it has any meaning at all, which I doubt, being myself inclined to locate its origin in the faulty digestion of the lady, seems to point to a life beyond the grave for the spirits of cats. Considered as a proof of such a life for the human soul, which is the one claim to our interest phenomena of the kind can possess, it is, of course, valueless.'

Mrs. Harvey-Browne stared at him a moment through her eyegla.s.ses.

'Christians,' she then said distantly, 'need no further proof of that.'

'May I ask, madam, what, precisely, you mean by Christians?' inquired the man in spectacles briskly. 'Define them, if you please.'

Now the bishop's wife was not used to being asked to define things, and disliked it as much as anybody else. Besides, though rays of intelligent interest darted through his spectacles, the wearer of them also wore clothes that were not only old but peculiar, and his whole appearance cried aloud of much work and small reward. She therefore looked not only helpless but indignant. 'Sir,' she said icily, 'this is not the moment to define Christians.'

'I hear the name repeatedly,' said the man in spectacles, bowing but undaunted; 'and looking round me I ask myself where are they?'

'Sir,' said Mrs. Harvey-Browne, 'they are in every Christian country.'

'And which, pray, madam, would you call the Christian countries? I look around me, and I see nations armed to the teeth, ready and sometimes even anxious to fly at each other's throats. Their att.i.tude may be patriotic, virile, perhaps necessary, conceivably estimable; but, madam, would you call it Christian?'

'Sir----' said Mrs. Harvey-Browne.

'Having noticed by your accent, madam, that the excellent German you speak was not originally acquired in our Fatherland, but must be the result of a commendable diligence practised in the schoolrooms of your youth and native land, and having further observed, from certain unmistakable signs, that the native land in question must be England, it would have a peculiar interest for me to be favoured with the exact meaning the inhabitants of that enlightened country attach to the term.

My income having hitherto not been sufficient to enable me to visit its hospitable sh.o.r.es, I hail this opportunity with pleasure of discussing questions that are of importance to us all with one of its, no doubt, most distinguished daughters.'

'Sir----' said Mrs. Harvey-Browne.