The Lost Manuscript Part 43

Ilse nodded. "Let him come in." The Doctor came; Ilse stretched out her hand towards him; and felt from the warm pressure, and from the emotion on his countenance, that the learned confidant of her beloved husband, on whose approbation she had not always counted, was a true friend.

Ilse found also that other gentlemen pressed to her bedside.

"If the wife of my colleague will give me audience, I beg to apply for admittance," said a cheerful voice, outside.

"Come in, Professor Raschke," cried Ilse, from her bed.

"There she is," exclaimed he, louder than is usual in a sick-room, "returned to the glad light after a dangerous crisis."

"What are the souls of animals doing, dear Professor?" asked Ilse.

"They are eating the leaves in the adjacent woods," answered Raschke; "there have been numerous ladybirds this year; see, there is one flying about the medicine bottle; I fear it has used me as a stage-coach to come in to visit you. The trees stand like brooms, and the poultry are so fat that all prejudices concerning the enjoyment of these fellow-creatures are quite set aside. I count the days until the happy moment arrives when my friend will follow me to give evidence of my improvement."

It was a slow recovery, but accompanied by abundant feelings of comfort; for fate grants to convalescents, as a compensation for danger and suffering, to see all around them, free from the dust of the work-a-day world, in pure outlines and fresh brilliancy. Ilse now felt this mild poetry of the sick-bed, when she held out her hand to the honest Gabriel, which he kissed, holding his handkerchief to his eyes, whilst the Professor extolled his devoted service. She felt this pleasure also when going down into the garden, supported by Laura's arm. Mr. Hummel advanced to her respectfully, in his best coat, with his hair brushed down and his defiant eyes softened almost into a mild expression, and behind him followed slowly his dog Spitehahn, his head also bent in unwilling respect. When Mr. Hummel had offered his homage, he said, sympathisingly: "If you should ever wish for a little quiet exercise, I beg of you to make use of my boat at your pleasure." This was the greatest favor that Mr. Hummel could show, for he did not credit the inhabitants of the neighborhood in which he lived with any of the qualifications which are necessary to make aquatic excursions.

He was undoubtedly right when he called a voyage in his boat a quiet amus.e.m.e.nt; for this season the boat had mostly rested upon bottom on account of the shallowness of the water and the greatest amus.e.m.e.nt that it could offer was to stretch out the hands to both banks, and tear up a tuft of gra.s.s with each.

When Ilse could sit in her room again, it often happened that the door opened gently, her husband entered, kissed her, and then returned with a light heart to his books. When she saw his tender anxiety, and his happiness in her recovery, and in again having her near him, she no longer doubted his love, and felt that she ought no longer to be anxious about what he thought of the life and pa.s.sing away of individuals and of nations.

_CHAPTER XX_.

A COURT MATTER.

Among the inquiries after the Professor's wife during her illness, there was one made by a stranger. Gabriel excited a little astonishment in the household when he mentioned: "Once, as I was running to the apothecary, a man of refined appearance was standing in the street talking with Dorchen. Dorchen called to me, and the man made inquiries concerning everything, and your illness seemed very inopportune to him."

"Did you ask his name?"

"He would not give it. He was from your part of the country, and had only made inquiries through the town."

"Perhaps it was some one from Rossau," said Ilse, annoyed. "I hope he has not made father anxious by his talk."

Gabriel shook his head. "He meant something by it; he tried to find out everything about the house, and asked impudent questions that I would not answer. As he had a crafty look, I followed him to the nearest inn, and the waiter told me that he was the chamberlain of a Prince."

Gabriel mentioned the name.

"That is our Prince!" cried Ilse; "what can make him take such interest in me?"

"The man wished to take some news home," replied her husband. "He was among the retinue on the hunting expedition last year; and it was kindly meant."

This answer quieted Gabriel, and Ilse, much pleased, said: "It is so nice when one's Prince takes such interest in his children who are in trouble far from home."

But there was some foundation withal for Gabriel's shaking his head; the inquiries did signify something.

Behind the buildings of a country farm-house, a young lady could be seen, tying up the wild flowers of the meadow in a large bouquet; a ball of blue yarn rolled in her lap whenever she added a fresh handful of flowers. A youth was running about in the deep gra.s.s before her, busily engaged in collecting flowers, placing them in order and arranging them according to color for the nosegay-maker. It was evident that the youth and young lady were brother and sister from the marked family likeness of both countenances, and the rich walking-dress left no doubt that they had not blossomed amidst the clover and camomile of the soil, even though the horses' heads and the galoon-trimmed hats of their attendants had not been visible through a gap between the barns.

"You will never finish your bouquet, Siddy," said the young man, incredulously, to the lady, as she awkwardly tried to knot the broken thread.

"If the thread were only stronger!" cried the busy maiden; "do knot it for me!" But it turned out that the young gentleman was not more expert himself.

"Look, Benno, how beautiful the bouquet will be,--that was my idea."

"It is all much too loose," retorted the young man.

"It is good enough for the first time," replied Siddy; "there, see my hands, how sweet they smell." She showed the blue points of her little fingers, holding them up to his face; and as he good-humoredly sniffed at them, she playfully rapped him on the nose. "I have enough of the red flowers," she continued, again occupied with the nosegay; "now I must have one more circle of white."

"What kind of white?"

"If I did but know their names," replied Siddy, thoughtfully; "I mean Marguerites. What do you call these white flowers?" she asked, looking back to a countrywoman who stood in a respectful att.i.tude some steps behind the busy pair, looking on at their proceedings with a pleased smile.

"We call them daisies," said the woman.

"Ah, that's it?" cried Siddy; "cut long stalks, Benno."

"They haven't got long stalks," said Benno, plaintively, carrying her what he could pick near at hand. "I will tell you what astonishes me,"

he began, sitting down by his sister on the gra.s.s. "This meadow is full of flowers; when it is mowed the gra.s.s becomes hay, and one doesn't see a thing of all the flowers in the hay."

"Really?" replied Siddy, tieing another thread. "They are probably dried up."

Benno shook his head. "Only look at a bundle of hay; you will see few of them in it. I think the people gather them beforehand, and sell them in the city."

Siddy laughed, and pointing over the green fields, said, "Look around you; they are countless, and people only buy the more lasting garden flowers; yet these are far prettier. How lovely is the star in the flower of our Lady Marguerite." She held the nosegay up to her brother, and looked lovingly at her work of art.

"You have completed it after all," said the young man, admiringly; "you were always a clever girl, Siddy, and I am so sorry that you are going away from us," he added, feelingly.

His sister gazed earnestly at him. "Are you, really? And will you always think kindly of me, my brother? You are the only one here from whom I find it hard to part, Benno. We are like two orphan children sitting in the snow of a cold winter's night."

She who thus spoke was Princess Sidonie, and the sun was shining warm on the blooming meadow before her.

"How do you like my bridegroom?" she asked, after a pause, busily winding the blue thread around the finished nosegay.

"He is a handsome man, and was very kind to me," said Benno, thoughtfully. "But is he clever?"

Siddy nodded. "I think he is. He writes nice letters. If you like, you shall read one."

"I shall be glad to do so," said Benno.

"Do you know," continued Siddy, mysteriously, "that I write to him every day! For I think a woman ought to confide everything to her husband, great and small, and I wish to accustom him and myself to that. To make sure, I write to him under a false address, and my maid takes the letters to the post, for I fear my stupid words might otherwise be read before they go." She said this with apparent indifference, examining her bouquet all the while. "He will hear every little detail of this visit to Lady Marguerite, and that it has given you pleasure. Now the bouquet is ready," she exclaimed, gaily. "I will fasten a handkerchief round it; we will take it in the carriage, and I will set it on my writing-table."

Benno laughed: "It looks like a club. You can lend it this evening to the savages in the ballet."

"It is better than the flat things which one can't even put in water,"

replied the sister, jumping up; "come along, we will carry it to the pump."

They hastened to the farmyard, followed by the peasant woman. Benno took a bucket and carried it to the pump.