The First Violin Part 68

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII.

"Oftmals hab' ich geirrt, und habe mich wiedergefunden, Aber glucklicher nie."

It was beginning to be dusk when we alighted the next day at Lahnburg, a small way-side station, where the doctor's brand-new carriage met us, and after we had been bidden welcome, whirled us off to the doctor's brand-new schloss, full of brand-new furniture. I skip it all, the renewed greetings, the hospitality, the noise. They were very kind. It was all right to me, and I enjoyed it immensely. I was in a state of mind in which I verily believe I should have enjoyed eating a plate of porridge for supper, or a dish of sauerkraut for dinner.

The subject for complacency and contemplation in Frau Mittendorf's life was her intimacy with the von Rothenfels family, whose great, dark old schloss, or rather, a portion of it, looking grimly over its woods, she pointed out to me from the windows of her salon. I looked somewhat curiously at it, chiefly because Eugen had mentioned it, and also because it was such a stern, imposing old pile. It was built of red stone, and stood upon red-stone foundations. Red were the rocks of this country, and hence its name, "Rothen-fels," the red rocks. Woods, also dark, but now ablaze with the last fiery autumn tints, billowed beneath it; on the other side, said Frau Mittendorf, was a great plateau covered with large trees, intersected by long, straight avenues. She would take us to look at it; the Grafin von Rothenfels was a great friend of hers.

She was entertaining us with stories to prove the great regard and respect of the countess for her (Frau Mittendorf) on the morning after our arrival, while I was longing to go out and stroll along some of those pleasant breezy upland roads, or explore the sleepy, quaint old town below.

Upon her narrative came an interruption. A servant threw open the door very wide, announcing the Grafin von Rothenfels. Frau Mittendorf rose in a tremulous hurry and flutter to greet her n.o.ble guest, and then introduced us to her.

A tall, melancholy, meager-looking woman,--far past youth--on the very confines of middle age, with iron-gray hair banded across a stern, much-lined brow. Colorless features of a strong, large, not unhandsome type from which all liveliness and vivacity had long since fled. A stern mouth--steady, l.u.s.terless, severe eyes, a dignity--yes, even a majesty of mien which she did not attempt to soften into graciousness; black, trailing draperies; a haughty pride of movement.

Such was the first impression made upon me by Hildegarde, Countess of Rothenfels--a forbidding, if grand figure--aristocrat in every line; utterly alien and apart, I thought, from me and every feeling of mine.

But on looking again the human element was found in the deeply planted sadness which no reserve pride could conceal. Sad the eyes, sad the mouth; she was all sad together--and not without reason, as I afterward learned.

She was a rigid Roman Catholic, and at sixteen had been married for _les convenances_ to her cousin, Count Bruno von Rothenfels, a man a good deal older than herself, though not preposterously so, and whose ample possessions and old name gave social position of the highest kind. But he was a Protestant by education, a thinker by nature, a rationalist by conviction.

That was one bitter grief. Another was her childlessness. She had been married twenty-four years; no child had sprung from the union. This was a continual grief which imbittered her whole existence.

Since then I have seen a portrait of her at twenty--a splendid brunette, with high spirit and resolute will and n.o.ble beauty in every line. Ah, me! What wretches we become! Sadness and bitterness, proud aloofness and a yearning wistfulness were subtly mingled in the demeanor of Grafin von Rothenfels.

She bowed to us, as Frau Mittendorf introduced us. She did not bestow a second glance upon Stella; but bent a long look, a second, a third scrutinizing gaze upon me. I--I am not ashamed to own it--quivered somewhat under her searching glance. She impressed and fascinated me.

She seated herself, and slightly apologizing to us for intruding domestic affairs, began to speak with Frau Mittendorf of some case of village distress in which they were both interested. Then she turned again to us, speaking in excellent English, and asked us whether we were staying there, after which she invited us to dine at her house the following day with Frau Mittendorf. After the invitation had been accepted with sufficient reverence by that lady, the countess rose as if to go, and turning again to me with still that pensive, half-wistful, half-mistrustful gaze, she said:

"I have my carriage here. Would you like to come with me to see our woods and house? They are sometimes interesting to strangers."

"Oh, very much!" I said, eagerly.

"Then come," said she. "I will see that you are escorted back when you are tired. It is arranged that you remain until you feel _gene, nicht wahr?_"

"Oh, thank you!" said I, again, hastening to make myself ready, and parenthetically hoping, as I ran upstairs, that Frau Mittendorf's eyes might not start quite out of her head with pride at the honor conferred upon her house and visitors.

Very soon I was seated beside the Grafin in the dark-green clarence, with the grand coachman and the lady's own jager beside him, and we were driving along a white road with a wild kind of country spreading round--moorland stretches, and rich deep woods. Up and down, for the way was uneven, till we entered a kind of park, and to the right, high above, I saw the great red pile with its little pointed towers crowned with things like extinguishers ending in a lightning-rod, and which seemed to spring from all parts of the heavy ma.s.s of the main building.

That, then, was Schloss Rothenfels. It looked the very image of an aristocratic, ancient feste burg, grim and grand; it brooded over us like a frown, and dominated the landscape for miles around. I was deeply impressed; such a place had always been like a dream to me.

There was something so imposingly conservative about it; it looked as if it had weathered so many storms; defying such paltry forces as wind and weather, and would through so many more, quite untouched by the roar of life and progress outside--a fit and firm keeping-place for old shields, for weapons honorably hacked and dinted, for tattered loyal flags--for art treasures and for proud beauties.

As we gained the height, I perceived the huge scale on which the schloss was constructed. It was a little town in itself. I saw, too, that plateau on the other side, of which I had heard; later I explored it. It was a natural plain--a kind of table-land, and was laid out in what have always, since I was a child, impressed me more than any other kind of surroundings to a house--mile-long avenues of great trees, stretching perfectly straight, like lines of marching troops in every direction.

Long, melancholy alleys and avenues, with huge, moss-grown stone figures and groups guarding the terraces or keeping fantastic watch over the stone tanks, on whose surfaces floated the lazy water-lilies. Great moss-grown G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses, and strange hybrid beasts, and fauns and satyrs, and all so silent and forlorn, with the lush gra.s.s and heavy fern growing rank and thick under the stately trees. To right they stretched and to left; and straightaway westward was one long, wide, vast, deserted avenue, at the end of which was an opening, and in the opening a huge stone myth or figure of a runner, who in the act of racing receives an arrow in his heart, and, with arms madly tossed in the air, staggers.

Behind this terrible figure the sun used to set, flaming, or mild, or sullen, and the vast arms of it were outlined against the gorgeous sky, or in the half-dark it glimmered like a ghost and seemed to move. It had been there so long that none could remember the legend of it. It was a grim shape.

Scattered here and there were quaint wildernesses and pleasaunces--clipped yews and oddly trained shrubs and flowers trying to make a diversion, but ever dominated by the huge woods, the straight avenues, the mathematical melancholy on an immense scale.

The Frau Grafin glanced at me once or twice as my head turned this way and that, and my eyes could not take in the strange scene quickly enough; but she said nothing, nor did her severe face relax into any smile.

We stopped under a huge _porte-cochere_ in which more servants were standing about.

"Come with me," said the lady to me. "First I will take you to my rooms, and then when you have rested a little you can do what you like."

Pleased at the prospect, I followed her; through a hall which without any joking was baronial; through a corridor into a room, through which she pa.s.sed, observing to me:

"This is the rittersaal, one of the oldest rooms in the house."

The rittersaal--a real, hereditary Hall of Knights where a sangerkrieg might have taken place--where Tannhauser and the others might have contended before Elizabeth. A polished parquet--a huge hearth on which burned a large bright wood fire, whose flames sparkled upon suits of mail in dozens--crossed swords and lances, over which hung tattered banners and bannerets. Shields and lances, portraits with each a pair of spurs beneath it--the men were all knights, of that line! dark and grave chiefly were these lords of the line of Sturm. In the center of the hall a great trophy of arms and armor, all of which had been used, and used to purpose; the only drapery, the banners over these lances and portraits. The room delighted me while it made me feel small--very small. The countess turned at a door at the other end and looked back upon me where I stood gasping in the door-way by which we had entered.

She was one of the house; this had nothing overpowering for her, if it did give some of the pride to her mien.

I hurried after her, apologizing for my tardiness; she waved the words back, and led me to a smaller room, which appeared to be her private sitting-room. Here she asked me to lay aside my things, adding that she hoped I should spend the day at the schloss.

"If you find it not too intolerably stupid," she added. "It is a dull place."

I said that it seemed to me like something out of a fairy tale, and that I longed to see more of it if I might.

"a.s.suredly you shall. There may be some few things which you may like to see. I forget that every one is not like myself--tired. Are you musical?"

"Very!" said I, emphatically.

"Then you will be interested in the music-rooms here. How old are you?"

I told her. She bowed gravely. "You are young, and, I suppose, happy?"

she remarked.

"Yes, I am--very happy--perfectly," said I, smiling, because I could not help it.

"When I saw you I was so struck with that look," said she. "I thought I had never seen any one look so radiantly, transcendently happy. I so seldom see it--and never feel it, and I wished to see more of you. I am very glad you are so happy--very glad. Now I will not keep you talking to me. I will send for Herr Nahrath, who shall be your guide."

She rang the bell. I was silent, although I longed to say that I could talk to her for a day without thinking of weariness, which indeed was true. She impressed and fascinated me.

"Send Herr Nahrath here," she said, and presently there came into the room a young man in the garb of what is called in Germany a Kandidat--that is to say an embryo pastor, or parish priest. He bowed very deeply to the countess and did not speak or advance much beyond the door.

Having introduced us, she desired him to act as cicerone to me until I was tired. He bowed, and I did not dispute the mandate, although I would rather have remained with her, and got to know something of the nature that lay behind those gray pa.s.sionless features, than turn to the society of that smug-looking young gentleman who waited so respectfully, like a machine whose mainspring was awe.

I accompanied him, nevertheless, and he showed me part of the schloss, and endeavored in the intervals of his tolerably arduous task of cicerone to make himself agreeable to me. It was a wonderful place indeed--this schloss. The deeper we penetrated into it, the more absorbed and interested did I become. Such piled-up, profusely scattered treasures of art it had never before fallen to my lot to behold. The abundance was prodigal; the judgment, cultivation, high perception of truth, rarity and beauty, seemed almost faultless. Gems of pictures--treasures of sculpture, bronze, china, carvings, gla.s.s, coins, curiosities which it would have taken a life-time properly to learn.

Here I saw for the first time a private library on a large scale, collected by generation after generation of highly cultured men and women--a perfect thing of its kind, and one which impressed me mightily; but it was not there that I was destined to find the treasure which lay hidden for me in this enchanted palace. We strayed over an acre or so of pa.s.sage and corridor till he paused before an arched door across which was hung a curtain, and over which was inscribed _Musik-kammern_ (the music-rooms).

"If you wish to see the music, _mein Fraulein_, I must leave you in the hands of Herr Brunken, who will tolerate no cicerone but himself."

"Oh, I wish to see it certainly," said I, on fire with curiosity.