The Home; Or, Life in Sweden Part 22

Leonore looked at her and sighed.

"No, Leonore," continued she, "do not trouble yourself to be beautiful.

This, it is true, may at times be very pleasant, but it certainly is not necessary to make us either beloved or happy. I am convinced that if you were not in the least prettier than you are, yet that you might if you would, in your own peculiar way, be as much in favour and as much beloved as the prettiest girls in the world."

"Ah!" said Leonore, "if I were only beloved by my nearest connexions!

What a divine thing it must be to be beloved by one's own family!"

"But that you can be--that you will be, if you only will! Ah! if you only were always as you are sometimes--and you are more and more so--and I love you more and more--infinitely I love you!"

"Oh, beloved Eva," said Leonore, deeply affected, whilst she leaned herself quietly on her sister, "I have very little deserved this from you; but, for the future, I will be different--I will be such as you would have me. I will endeavour to be good and amiable."

"And then you will be so lovely, so beloved, and so happy!" said Eva, "that it would be a real delight. But now you must come down into Louise's and my room. There is something there for you; you must change the air a little. Come, come!"

"Ah, how charming!" was Leonore's exclamation as she entered Eva's chamber; and in fact nothing could be imagined more charming than that little abode of peace, adorned as it now was by the coquetry of affection. The most delicious odour of fruit and flowers filled the air, and the sun threw his friendly beams on a table near the sofa, on which a basket filled with beautiful fruit stood enticingly in the midst of many pretty and tastefully arranged trifles.

"Here, dear Leonore," said Eva, "you will remain during this time. It will do you good to leave your room a little. And look, they have all left you an offering! This gothic church of bronze is from Jacobi. It is a lamp! do you see? Light comes through the church window;--how beautiful! We will light it this evening. And this fruit here--do you see the beautiful grapes? All these are a plot between Henrik and Petrea. The copperplate engravings are from my father; Louise has worked you the slippers; and the little lady, she----"

Leonore clasped her hands. "Is it possible," said she, "that you all have thought so much about me! How good you are--ah, too good!"

"Nay, do not weep, sweet Leonore," said Eva; "you should not weep, you should be joyful. But the best part of the entertainment remains yet behind. Do you see this new novel of Miss Edgeworth's? Mamma has given us this, for us to read together. I will read to you aloud till midnight, if you will. A delicate little supper has been prepared for us by Louise, and we shall sup up here. We'll have a banquet in our own way. Take now one of those big grapes which grow two on one stem, and I will take the other. The king's health! Oh, glorious!"

Whilst the two sisters are banqueting at their own innocent feast, we will see how it goes on in the great company at

AXELHOLM.

Things are not carried on in so enviably easy and unconstrained a manner at every ball as at that of the citizens in the good little city of * * * ping, where one saw the baker's wife and the confectioner's wife waltzing together, but altogether in a wrong fashion, to which the rest only said, "It does not signify, if they only go on!" Oh, no! such simplicity as that is very rarely met with, and least of all among those of whom we write.

At Axelholm, as at other great b.a.l.l.s, the rocky sh.o.r.es of conventionality made it impossible to move without a thousand ceremonies, proprieties, dubiosities, formalities, and all the rest, which, taken together, make up a vast sum of difficulties. The great ball at Axelholm was not without pretension, and on that account not without its stiff difficulties. Among these may be reckoned that several of the young gentlemen considered themselves too old, or too----to dance at all, and that, in consequence, many of the dance-loving ladies could not dance at all either, because, on account of the threatening eye-gla.s.ses of the gentlemen, they had not courage to dance with one another. Nevertheless the scene looked like one of pure delight. The great saloon so splendidly lighted, and a vast a.s.sembly collected there!

It is now the moment just before the dancing begins; the gentlemen stand in a great group in the middle of the room, spreading themselves out in direct or wavy lines towards the circle of ladies. These sit, like flowers in the garden beds, on the benches round the room, mostly in bashful stillness; whilst a few, in the consciousness of zephyr-like lightness, float about the room like b.u.t.terflies. All look happy; all talk one with another, with all that animation, that reciprocal good-will, which the sight of so much beauty, united to the consciousness that they themselves are wearing their best looks, as well as the expectation of pleasure, infuses.

Now the music begins to sound; now young hearts beat with more or less disquiet; now go the engaged ones, amid the jostlings of the servants, who are perpetually soliciting the young ladies to partake of the now disdained tea. There one saw several young girls numerously surrounded, who were studying the promised dances which were inscribed on the ivory of their fans, declining fervent solicitations for the third, fourth, fifth--nay, even up to the twelfth dance; but, fascinatingly-gracious, promising themselves for the thirteenth, which perhaps may never be danced; whilst others in their neighbourhood sit quiet and undisturbed, waiting for the first invitation, in order thereto to say a willing and thankful yes. Among the many-surrounded and the much-solicited, we may see Sara and even Louise. With these emulated the three Misses Aftonstjerna--Isabella, Stella, and Aurora--who stood constantly round the chair of the Countess Solenstrle, which was placed before the great mirror at the far end of the saloon. Among those who sat expectantly, in the most beautiful repose, we shall discover our Petrea, who nevertheless, with her bandeau of pearls in her hair, and a certain bloom of innocence and goodness in her youthful countenance, looked uncommonly well. Her heart beat with an indescribable desire to be engaged.

"Ah!" sighed she, as she saw two most elegant young men, the two brothers B----, walking round the circle of ladies, with their eye-gla.s.ses in their hands. Their eye-gla.s.ses rested for a moment on Petrea; the one whispered something in the ear of the other; both smiled, and went on. Petrea felt humiliated, she knew not why.

"Now!" thought she, as Lieutenant S---- approached her quickly. But Lieutenant S---- came to engage Miss T----, and Petrea remained sitting.

The music played the liveliest _anglaise_, and Petrea's feet were all in agitation to be moving.

"Ah!" thought she, "if I were but a man I would engage Petrea."

The _anglaise_ streamed past Petrea's nose.

"Where is Eva?" asked Jeremias Munter, in a hasty and displeased tone, from Louise, in the pause between the _anglaise_ and the waltz.

"She has remained at home with Leonore," said Louise; "she was determined upon it."

"How stupid!" exclaimed he; "why did I come here then."

"Nay, that I really cannot tell!" returned Louise, smiling.

"Not!" retorted the a.s.sessor. "Now then I will tell you, sister Louise, I came here entirely to see Eva dance--solely and altogether on that account, and for nothing else. What a stupid affair it was that she should stop at home! You had a great deal better, all the rest of you, have stopped at home together; you yourself, dear sister, reckoned into the bargain! Petrea, there! what has she to do here? She was always a vexation to me, but now I cannot endure her, since she has not understanding enough to stay at home in Eva's place; and this little curly-pate, which must dance with grown people just as if she were a regular person; could not she find a piece of sugar to keep her at home, instead of coming here to be in a flurry! You are all wearisome together; and such entertainments as these are the most horrible things I know."

Louise floated away in the waltz with Jacobi, laughing over this sally; and the Countess Solenstrle, the sun of the ball, said as she pa.s.sed her chair, "Charmant, charmant!"

Besides this couple, who distinguished themselves by their easy harmonious motion, there was another, which whirled past in wild circles, and drew all eyes upon them likewise: this was Sara and the boisterous Schwartz. Her truly beaming beauty, her dress, her haughty bearing, her flashing eyes, called forth a universal ah! of astonishment and admiration. Petrea forgot that she was sitting while she looked upon her. She thought that she had never seen anything so transporting as Sara in the whirl of the dance. But the Countess Solenstrle, as she sate in her chair, said of this couple--nothing; nay, people even imagined that they read an expression of displeasure in her countenance.

The Misses Aftonstjerna sailed round with much dignity.

"My dear girl," said Elise kindly, but seriously, to Sara after the waltz, "you must not dance thus; your chest will not allow it. How warm you are! You really burn!"

"It is my climate," answered Sara; "it agrees with me excellently."

"I beseech you sit this dance. It is positively injurious to you to heat yourself thus," said Elise.

"This dance?" returned Sara; "impossible! I am engaged for it to Colonel H----."

"Then, do not dance the next," besought Elise; "if you would do me a pleasure, do not dance it with Schwartz. He dances in such a wild manner as is prejudicial to the health; besides which, it is hardly becoming."

"It gives me pleasure to dance with him," answered Sara, both with pride and insolence, as she withdrew; and the mother, wounded and displeased, returned to her seat.

The Countess Solenstrle lavished compliments on Elise on account of her children. "They are positively the ornament of the room," said she;--"_charmant!_ and your son a most prepossessing young man--so handsome and _comme il faut_! A charming ball!"

Isabella Aftonstjerna threw beaming glances on the handsome Henrik.

"What madness this dancing is!" said Mr. Munter, as with a strong expression of weariness and melancholy he seated himself beside Evelina.

"_Nay_, look how they hop about and exert themselves, as if without this they could not get thin enough; then, good heavens! how difficult it seems, and how ugly it is! As if this could give them any pleasure! For some of them it seems as if it were day-labour, and as if it were a frenzy to others; and for a third, a kind of affectation; nay, I must go my ways, for I shall become mad or splenetic if I look any longer on this super-extra folly!"

"If Eva Frank were dancing too, you would not think it so," said Evelina, with a well-bred smile.

"Eva!" repeated he, whilst a light seemed to diffuse itself over his countenance, and his eyes suddenly beamed with pleasure--"Eva! no! I believe so too. To see her dance is to see living harmony. Ah! it enlivens my mind if I only see her figure, her gait, her slightest movement; and then to know that all this harmony, all this beauty, is not mere paint--not mere outside; but that it is the true expression of the soul! I find myself actually better when I am near her; and I have often a real desire to thank her for the sentiments which she instils into me. In fact, she is my benefactress; and I can a.s.sure you that it reconciles me to mankind and to myself, that I can feel thus to a fellow-creature. I cannot describe how agreeable it is, because commonly there is so much to vex oneself about in this so-called masterpiece of the Creator!"

"But, best friend," said Evelina, "why are you so vexed? Most people have still----"

"Ah, don't go and make yourself an _ange de clemence_ for mankind," said he, "in order to exalt secretly yourself over me, otherwise I shall be vexed with you; and you belong to the cla.s.s that I can best endure. Why do I vex myself? What a stupid question! Why are people stupid and wearisome, and yet make themselves important with their stupidity? And wherefore am I myself such a melancholy personage, worse than anybody else, and should have withal such a pair of quick eyes, as if only on purpose to see the infirmities and perversions of the world? There may, however, in my case be sufficient reason for all this. When one has had the fancy to come into the world against all order and Christian usage; has seen neither father nor mother beside one's cradle; heard nothing, seen nothing, learned nothing, which is in the least either beautiful or instructive--one has not entered upon life very merrily. And then, after all, to be called Munter![11] Good heavens! Munter! Had I been called Blannius, or Skarnius, or Brummerius, or Grubblerius, or Rhabarberius, there might have been some sense in the joke; but Munter! I ask you now, is it not enough to make a man splenetic and melancholy all the days of his life? And then, to have been born into the world with a continual cold, and since then never to have been able to look up to heaven without sneezing--do you find that merry or edifying. Well, and then!

after I had worked my way successfully through the schools, the dust of books, and the hall of anatomy, and had come to hate them all thoroughly, and to love that which was beautiful in nature and in art, am I to thank my stars that I must win my daily bread by studying and caring for all that is miserable and revolting in the world, and hourly to go about among jaundice, and colic, and disease of the lungs? On this account I never can be anything but a melancholy creature! Yes, indeed, if there were not the lilies on the earth, the stars in heaven, and beyond all these some one Being who must be glorious--and were there not among mankind the human-rose Eva--the beautiful, fascinating Eva, then----"

He paused; a tear stood in his eye; but the expression of his countenance soon was changed when he perceived no less than five young girls--they danced now the "free choice"--and among them the three enchanting Miss Aftonstjernas, who, all locked together, came dancing towards him with a roguish expression. He cast towards them the very grimmest of his glances, rose up suddenly, and hastened away.

Sara danced the second waltz with Schwartz, yet wilder than the first.

Elise turned her eyes away from her with inward displeasure; but Petrea's heart beat with secret desire for a dance as wild, and she followed their whirlings with sparkling eyes.

"Oh," thought she, "if one could only fly through life in a joyful whirl like that!"

It was the sixth dance, and Petrea was sitting yet. She felt her nose red and swollen. "See now!" thought she, "farewell to all hopes of dancing! It must be that I am ugly, and n.o.body will look at me!" At the same moment she was aware of the eye of her mother fixed upon her with a certain expression of discomfort, and that glance was to her like a stab at the heart; but the next moment her heart raised itself in opposition to that depressing feeling which seemed about to overcome her. "It is unpleasant," thought she, "but it cannot be altered, and it is no fault of mine! And as n.o.body will give me any pleasure, I will even find some for myself."

Scarcely had Petrea made this determination, than she felt herself quite cheered; a spring of independence and freedom bubbled up within her; she felt as if she were able even to take down the chandelier from the ceiling, and all the more so when she saw so many life-enjoying people skipping around her.

At this moment an old gentleman rose up from a bench opposite Petrea, with a tea-cup in his hand. In a mania of officiousness she rushed forward in order to a.s.sist him in setting it aside. He drew himself back, and held the cup firmly, whilst Petrea, with the most firm and unwearying "Permit me, sir," seemed determined to take it. The strife about the cup continued amid the unending bows of the gentleman, and the equally unending curtseys of Petrea, until a pa.s.sing waltzing couple gave a jostle, without the least ceremony whatever to the compliment-makers, which occasioned a shake of the tea-cup, and revealed to Petrea the last thing in the world which she had imagined, that the cup was not empty! Shocked and embarra.s.sed, she let go her hold, and allowed the old gentleman, with what remained of his cup of tea, to go and find out for himself a securer place. Petrea seated herself, she hardly knew how, on a bench near an elderly lady, who looked at her very good-naturedly, and who helped very kindly to wipe off the ablution of tea which she had received. Petrea felt herself quite confidential with this excellent person, and inquired from her what was her opinion of Swedenborg, beginning also to give her own thoughts on spectral visions, ghosts, etc. The lady looked at her, as if she thought she might be a little deranged, and then hastened to change her place.