The Children of the World Part 55

_Que voulez-vous?_ We're considered Northern barbarians, always in search of booty. A man must not be better than his reputation. But some things still remain which are worth seeing, and as for your nerves, Countess--perhaps there's but one effectual remedy for sufferings such as yours: the magnetic fluid of art. I offer myself as your artistic physician-in ordinary, and will guarantee a cure."

"And who tells you. Prince Bataroff, that I've not already tried this remedy in Germany, and without success?"

"In Germany? Art in Germany? Unless you're speaking of music, which is one domain of the German nature, or gymnastics--"

"I always supposed the Dresden gallery, which we studied for a fortnight on our wedding tour, possessed some works of art for which Italy might envy us, and the museums of Berlin, Vienna, Munich--"

"Don't mention those wretched forcing houses, in which I always feel suffocated by the artificial heat with which, with scientific zeal, the worthy Germans endeavor to correct their natural want of artistic perception! My nerves, thank G.o.d, are as strong as I wish yours were, but I really believe they would fail till I should be attacked by hysteria, if I were compelled to spend two hours a day for a fortnight in one of your national museums. Once, when on the cost of Finland, I entered a hut--it was during one of those storms when the meanest roof is welcome--and found the fisherman's family gathered round a box they had just saved from a stranded ship. It contained some great lady's jewels and dresses, which had suffered little damage, and now, seen in the hands and by the light of the dim oil lamp of these worthy half-idiots, were about as much out of place as are the t.i.tians, Rubens, Correggios, and Raphaels in your dear German cities, watched by pedants, gaped at by sn.o.bs, and only separated by a thin roof from the grey dull sky, which they suit as well as the Brussels laces in that stranded chest suited the smoky atmosphere of a Finnish fisherman's hut."

"You're mounted on your hobby again," said Toinette's brother, with a subtle smile. "And you'll right; he who wishes to understand artists, must go to the land of artists. But you forget one thing; if art is not indigenous in our colder zone--ought we to abandon the hope that by long and affectionate care it will at last become acclimated? Who knows what we lack? That we do not, in our need, tamely submit with folded arms, is no reproach to us, and when I look at German artists--"

"German artists? I implore you, my dear Prince, in the names of the great masters, not to give these wretched bunglers so proud a name! But no, I wrong them. They're no bunglers, but rather very skillful mechanics or artisans, who have learned all the rules of their trade, and feel a pride in their guild. German artists! I know them. There was one, the most ridiculous bungler in the world, a certain Konig, whom his colleagues called the zaunkonig, because he exhibited old hedges or fences adorned with a few weeds, as landscapes. I made a wager with a connoisseur and enthusiast, our worthy Baron L., that this poor devil, who, in the wrath of G.o.d, was condemned to daub in colors, would joyfully renounce 'art,' if any one would buy his poor talent, I mean give him enough to live upon, on condition that he would no longer paint."

"And did you win?"

"No, I lost, my dear fellow, and it served me right; I ought to have known these German dreamers and idealists better. Just think, Countess, the man discovered that an experiment was being tried upon him, his 'artist' pride awoke, and he acted as if life would not be worth the having if he could not daily daub at his wooden landscapes; he wrote me an impertinent note, throwing my favors at my feet--the t.i.tle of court painter, salary, future support, and even the whole sum he had already received. I lost my bet, but Germany regained an artist, and with him one fool the more."

Gaston laughed loudly and began to interpret the story to the chevalier, who had not understood a word. The beautiful princess, who had joined in the laugh, was just turning to Toinette to continue the conversation about the journey to Italy, when Edwin's voice interrupted her.

"I must beg you, Prince," he said with quiet emphasis, "to speak somewhat more respectfully of the artist whom you choose to call a fool. I have the happiness of being a son-in-law of that worthy gentleman, and am therefore in a position to be able to form a more correct opinion of his character and the motives of his conduct. It was not wounded vanity that induced him to give up the pension which condemned him to idleness. No one can have a more modest opinion of him, perceive his deficiencies more clearly, than he himself. But as he's in n.o.body's way when he paints his una.s.suming little pictures, he has probably no reason to be ashamed of this innocent pa.s.sion, which is certainly as worthy of honor as many a so-called 'n.o.ble pa.s.sion,' and it was only a foolish mistake on the good man's part that your offer was taken seriously. Yet why should not a great man amuse himself by taking an affectionate interest in a little man? My dear father-in-law thinks far too well of humankind to suspect that he was the object of a contemptuous jest, made the subject of an experiment, such as Your Highness might perhaps venture to try with your serfs. That he did not decline this honor too courteously, is scarcely reprehensible in a man, who is no fool. I, myself, was the person, who as soon as I entered into the relation of a son, opened the old man's eyes and thereby contributed to make you lose your bet."

A death-like silence followed these words, and for several seconds nothing was heard but the chevalier's low whisper to Gaston: "_Qu'est ce qu'il a dit, que le prince fronce si furieus.e.m.e.nt les sourcils?_"

But he received no answer.

While Edwin, with his eyes fixed steadily upon the prince, was awaiting his reply, a new guest had entered the hall with noiseless steps and had reached the empty chair beside Edwin. The latter now turned toward him, and suddenly started up as if a thunder bolt had fallen.

Lorinser stood before him.

Not a feature of his face had altered since Edwin had seen him last, only the carriage of the head had become a little bolder, and the glance, which still as of old sought the ground or scanned the ceiling in preference, now sometimes rested upon the person who confronted him.

Such was the case at this moment, when he would have had good reason to cast down his eyes. He regarded his neighbor with a perfectly calm, courteous smile, as if inviting him to keep his seat and not trouble himself to make room for him. He was attired in faultless evening dress, and only his noiseless entrance recalled the poor candidat, who years ago had glided along such manifold crooked paths.

None of the guests, not even the mistress of the house, who during the last scene had not turned her eyes from the speaker, noticed anything unusual in Edwin's hasty movement.

"Allow me to introduce the gentlemen to each other," said the princess, glad of an interruption to the embarra.s.sing scene; "Herr Vicar Lorenzen--"

"No introduction is necessary, Princess," interrupted Edwin with a trembling voice. "This gentleman, although he seems about to deny it, is only too well known to me; so well known in fact, that I'll give up my place in this circle to him, without farther ceremony, and take leave of the company for to-day."

"But Doctor!" cried Gaston, who had no idea of the cause of this strange scene, "the philosophy which, without striking a single blow, leaves the field to theology--"

"If my innocent remarks about German artists in general and your father-in-law in particular, which were not intended to give offence, are driving you away, I'm perfectly ready to make the _amende honorable_," said Prince Bataroff, as he quietly stroked his beard and glanced at the countess. "You have a tongue like a sword, Herr Doctor, and I should think, after you've so bravely parried my a.s.sault, we might conclude an honorable peace."

"I thank you for your friendly words, Prince," replied Edwin, "and accept the peace unreservedly. If, nevertheless, I leave the table, it is because it goes against my nature to sit beside a person whom I believe--about whom I have my own opinion. Pray do not take this little weakness amiss. It will only serve to show the princess how unfounded was her supposition that a man must always possess cool blood to be a philosopher." He cast a glance of icy scorn at Lorinser, and bowed to the remainder of the party, carefully avoiding the countess' eyes.

"_C'est drole!_" said Bataroff, and he whispered something in the ear of the princess. She did not seem to hear it. Her laughing face had suddenly grown rigid with terror and was suffused with a crimson flush.

The master of the house rose.

"Herr Doctor," said he in an irritated tone.

"Will the Herr Count permit _me_ to ask this gentleman to explain why he insults a peaceful guest of this n.o.ble house?" interrupted Lorinser without the slightest token of agitation; "unless a sudden attack of madness--"

"Unfortunately, I have still perfect control of my senses," replied Edwin cuttingly, "and no one can more deeply regret that in return for the hospitality which I have enjoyed in this house, I am placed in a situation which compels me to cause such an unpleasant scene. But no obligations of courtesy or etiquette can induce me to sit quietly beside a person, whom I have good reasons for thinking anything but a man of honor. Again I beg the master of the house and his n.o.ble guests to pardon me; but there are instincts of the blood stronger than any training. One who has a natural aversion to a toad or a snake must leave the spot that such a reptile makes unendurable; in doing this, however, I have no desire to offend any one who rejoices in stronger nerves. Look me in the face, Herr--Vicar. Your brazen front was well known to me in the days, when as Candidat Lorinser--"

"You wish to reproach me for having restored my name to the original form used in my family before they left Denmark--"

"I don't grudge you any name and t.i.tle you wish to adopt. If you could efface the rest of your past as quickly--"

"Judge not, that ye be not judged," interrupted Lorinser, with immovable calmness and unction. With the exception of a slight quivering of the nostrils, not a feature of the pale but singularly imposing countenance betrayed any special agitation.

"I appeal," he continued, "to my honored mistress the princess--that I have never pretended to be a sinless man; the earth has never contained but one such, and his disciples should remember that they are all sinners and lack the renown which before G.o.d--"

"This is the introduction to a sermon, Herr Vicar," said Edwin; "I will not interrupt and prevent you from edifying your congregation. But as I am not a member I shall have the honor of taking leave of the company, and bidding them all good night."

He bowed to the countess and left the hall, before any of the party recovered from their surprise.

CHAPTER IX.

Edwin was scarcely in his room, to which a footman with a very bewildered expression, had lighted him, when his excitement pa.s.sed away and bitter indignation and wrath took possession of him. He experienced the gnawing discomfort which seizes upon everyone, when, while he does not regret having yielded to a n.o.ble impulse, he must curse the circ.u.mstances which forced him to disturb a social circle with his righteous anger. He was a guest and had quarrelled with another guest of the house, a house governed by the rules of society, which as far as possible stifle all natural sounds, smother to a malicious whisper the cry of indignation, and give vent to an implacable hatred, not in the presence of ladies, but only in some lonely spot before two male witnesses. He must have appeared like a man without education or courtesy, a moralizing pedant. True, there were no means of justifying himself--even to the most frivolous of these children of the world--for his inability to breathe the same air with this man. But could he use an expedient, which would have compelled him to expose the secret, the honor of his friend? No; he must now submit to the consequences of his action, and no matter how much he reflected upon the affair, he could think of no other course which he could have pursued, without lowering himself in his own eyes. He felt that he could do exactly the same thing again in a similar event. So in the midst of all his annoyance, he experienced the satisfaction of having been faithful to himself, and began to reflect more calmly what course he should now pursue.

He could remain in the castle no longer. Even if he could be sure of not meeting Lorinser again, he thought it his duty to aid the master of the house, in causing the strange scene in which he played a princ.i.p.al part to be forgotten as quickly as possible; this could be most effectually done by the departure of the disturber of the peace, and moreover Edwin wished to avoid any farther discussion of the matter.

Let them scoff at him and talk behind his back as they chose, let the enemy who remained behind reap all the advantage from having kept the field--what did he care? The one person, whose opinion he valued, would not misunderstand him; that he knew, that, the last glance with which she followed his retreating figure, had told him.

But had he come to the castle to chastise a worthless scoundrel, and might he now leave feeling that his business had been well performed?

Could he leave her who had confessed that she had no friend but him, who in the greatest complication of her fate, grasped his hand in despairing terror? he was helpless to aid her it was true, but she had appealed to him with the certainty that at least she would be compelled no longer to bear her burden unaided by human help or sympathy. If he suddenly failed her again, would it not sunder the last tie that bound her to life? And yet, how could he hope to afford her any real a.s.sistance? He scarcely knew how to help himself in the violent conflict of feelings which her presence had aroused. He sat down on the sofa before the little gilt table and buried his face in his hands.

A discreet knock roused him from this profitless reverie. At his "who is there?" the little physician entered, with many apologies for disturbing him at so late an hour. The great interest he felt in his old friend's son had brought him there; he had received through the servants who were greatly alarmed by the unprecedented scene, a confused report of what had occurred, and thought he would not be charged with indiscreet curiosity, if he applied to the right quarter at once. He now, unasked, related that after Edwin had left the hall, Lorinser had made a full confession and thereby completely regained his former position. An old affair with a young girl, in whom Edwin had been likewise deeply interested, was the cause of this mortal hatred.

Disappointed love had induced the poor creature, whom in spite of the most sincere affection he could not resolve to marry and be faithless to higher aims, to attempt to commit suicide. Fortunately she was saved; but all the blame for the act had been laid on his shoulders--in, short, it was a regular romance, and he seemed to have related it very well. At least when he closed, the beautiful princess'

eyes were full of tears, and Count Gaston cordially shook hands with him. In the opinion of these men of the world, it was of course rather a credit to the pious gentleman that, in spite of his theological wisdom, he too had had his _bonnes fortunes_ and such a romantic adventure into the bargain.

Edwin laughed fiercely.

"My dear friend," continued the little man with a crafty face, which vainly endeavored to wear an expression of friendly sympathy, "I understand your feelings as indeed every one does, even the vicar, who as he has repeatedly declared, cherishes no ill will toward you notwithstanding your violent conduct."

"Indeed? Does the worthy man forgive me? Well, that _is_ ludicrous!"

"He praised you most warmly and apologized for your extraordinary conduct. If he had known at that time, that you cherished an unrequited love for the unfortunate girl, who lived in the same house--"

"My worthy patron," interrupted Edwin rising, "I'm really very grateful to you, uncommonly grateful for your friendly communications. But as my feelings, although you a.s.sure me you understand them, are still misapprehended, and as I have my own reasons for not expressing my opinion of the Herr Vicar's romance with the 'frankness and honesty'

which you take for your motto, I should consider it a favor if you would leave me to myself and return to your patient. If, however, you should find occasion, you may a.s.sure all who have admired the narrators talent, that not only his style, but his inventive faculty also is yet to be equalled; in a word, that no more shameless liar ever existed than this fox in the sheep-skin of humility. And now I'll wish you as good a night's rest as I trust to obtain for myself."

While uttering these words, he had accompanied the bewildered little man to the door, opened it with a trembling hand, and closed it by no means gently behind him. He was in a tumult of excitement, the blood throbbed wildly in his temples, another moment and it would have been impossible for him to have suppressed his indignation. He would have poured forth all the bitterness of which his heart was full upon the wretched sneak whose face, with its friendly simper, put him fairly beside himself.

As soon as he was alone, his oppressed heart found relief in a loud, scornful laugh. Then he went to the dressing table which stood beside the silk canopied bed and drank a gla.s.s of water. By degrees his blood grew calm. He went to the lofty bay-window, threw it wide open, and let the pure night air fan his hot brow. "Am I not a fool?" he said to himself, "to allow myself to be so much excited by that which was only natural, and to be expected? Should it vex or humiliate me to be the loser in a contest with such a master of hypocrisy? And ought I to grudge the miserable knave, who has nothing better, this victory and its costly trophies--a princess' tears and the pressure of a count's hand? Fie upon me for allowing myself to be so overpowered with disgust. I'm really indebted to this n.o.ble tale-bearer, for opening my eyes to the true state of affairs. But away--away--away from here, before the moon has disappeared behind the forest!"

He went back to the little table, opened his portfolio and commenced a note to the count. After the disturbance of the peace of the household, he wrote, of which he had unfortunately been the cause, he thought it his duty to his host, as well as to the rest of the guests, to continue no longer to be a recipient of the hospitality which had been so kindly offered to him. He regretted that consideration for others prevented him from giving explanations which, although his conduct might appear an offence against etiquette, would justify it in every other respect.

As for the cause which had brought him here, he was fully convinced that he had no power to undo what had been done and effect a reconciliation. Perhaps, he concluded, time, which works so many wonders, may bring about what at present the count positively refuses to think of, and make a separation between two incompatible natures, appear the only means of safety.