The Lost Manuscript Part 64

"You know that the Sovereign would be the last to infringe the rules of the Court. There is no reason for anxiety."

"At all events, the Princess must maintain her position. I hear this Professor's wife is considered a beauty?"

"I believe she is also a woman of high character," replied the Chamberlain.

The Professor received the desired permission. Ilse made her preparations for the journey with a solemn seriousness which struck all around her. She was now to approach the presence of her Sovereign, whom she had regarded from a distance with shy respect. It made her heart heavy to think that the son had never spoken of his father, and that she knew nothing of her ill.u.s.trious master but his countenance and manner. She asked herself, anxiously: "How will he treat Felix and me?"

Whilst Felix was collecting all the books and doc.u.ments which were indispensable for the journey, the Doctor was standing sorrowfully in his friend's room. He was satisfied that the Professor could not withdraw from the duty of seeking for the ma.n.u.script; and yet his invitation to Court did not please him. The sudden breaking of their tranquil life disturbed him, and he sometimes looked anxiously at Ilse.

Laura sat, the last evening, near Ilse, leaning on her shoulder, weeping. "It appears to me," said the latter, "that something portentous lies in my path, and I go in fear. But I leave you without anxiety for your future, although you have sometimes made me uneasy, you stubborn little puss; for I know there is one who will always be your best adviser, even though you should seldom see each other."

"I lose him when I lose you," cried Laura, in tears. "All vanishes that has been the happiness of my life. In the little garden which I have secretly laid out for myself, the blossoms are torn up by the roots, the bitter trial of deprivation has come to me also; and poor Fritz, who already was practicing resignation, will now be quite lost in his hermitage."

Even Gabriel, who was to accompany the travelers to the capital and await their return home from abroad at the house of Ilse's father, was excited during this period, and often disappeared into the house of Mr.

Hahn when it became dark. The last day he brought home from the market a beautiful bird of uncommon appearance, with colored feathers, pasted on a sheet, with the inscription: "Peac.o.c.k from Madagascar." Gabriel wrote, in addition, in clear, stiff characters: "Faithful unto death."

This he took in the evening to the enemy's house. A whispering might be heard there, and a pocket-handkerchief be seen, which wiped the tears from sorrowful eyes.

"No allusion is meant to the name of this family," said Gabriel, holding the bird once more in the moonlight, the beams of which fell through the staircase window upon two sorrowful faces; "but it occurred to me as a remembrance. When you look at it think of me, and the words I have written on it. We must part, but it is hard to do so." The honest fellow pulled out his pocket-handkerchief.

Dorchen took it from him; she had forgotten her own, and wiped her eyes with it.

"It is not for long," said Gabriel, consolingly, in spite of his own sorrow. "Paste the bird on the cover of your trunk, and when you open it and take out a good dress, think of me."

"Always," cried Dorchen, weeping. "I do not need that."

"When I return, Dorchen, we will talk further of what is to become of us, and I hope all will go well. The handkerchief which has received your tears shall be a remembrance for me."

"Leave it to me," said Dorchen, sobbing. "I must tell you I have bought wool, and will embroider you a wallet. This you shall carry about you, and when I write, put my letters in it."

Gabriel looked happy, in spite of his sorrow; and the moon glanced jeeringly down on the kisses and vows which were exchanged.

_CHAPTER XXVII_.

THE SOVEREIGN.

The Hereditary Prince was walking with the Chamberlain in the gardens which surrounded the royal castle on three sides. He looked indifferently on the splendid coloring of the early flowers and the fresh green of the trees; to-day he was more silent than usual; whilst the birds piped to him from the branches, and the spring breeze wafted fragrance from the tops of the trees, he played with his eye-gla.s.s.

"What bird is that singing?" he asked, at last, awakening from his apathy.

The Chamberlain replied, "It is a thrush."

The Prince examined the bird with his gla.s.ses, and then asked, carelessly, "What are those people ahead of us carrying?"

"Chairs for the pavilion," answered the Chamberlain; "it is being arranged for Professor Werner. The house is seldom open now; formerly his Highness, the Sovereign, used to live there occasionally."

"I do not remember ever having been in it for a very long time."

"Would your Highness like to see the rooms?"

"We can pa.s.s that way."

The Chamberlain turned towards the pavilion; the Marshal was standing at the door; he had come to see that everything was in order. The Hereditary Prince greeted him, cast a cursory glance at the house, and was inclined to pa.s.s on. It was a small grey-stone structure, in old fashioned style; there were sh.e.l.l-shaped arabesques round the doors and windows, and little dropsical angels supported heavy garlands of stone flowers with lines which appeared to have been cut out of elephant's hide; the angels themselves looked as if they had just crept out of a dirty swamp and been dried in the sun. The dark building stood amid the fresh verdure like a large chest, in which all the withered flowers that the garden had ever borne, and all the moss which the gardener had ever sc.r.a.ped from the trees, seemed, to have been kept for later generations.

"It is an uninviting looking place," said the Prince.

"It is the gloomy appearance that has always pleased his Sovereign Highness so much," replied the Marshal. "Will not your Highness examine the interior?"

The Prince pa.s.sed slowly up the steps and through the apartments. The musty smell of the long-closed rooms had not been removed by the pastiles that had been burnt in them; logs were blazing in all the fireplaces, but the warmth which they spread still struggled with the damp air. The arrangement of the rooms was throughout orderly and complete. There were heavy _portieres_, curtains with large ta.s.sels, and fantastic furniture with much gilding, and white covers for the preservation of the silk, mirrors with broad fantastic frames, round the chimney-piece garlands carved in grey marble, and upon it wreathed vases and little figures of painted porcelain. In the boudoir, on a marble console, there was a large clock under a gla.s.s bell; a nude gilded nymph poured water over the dial from her urn which was turned to gilded ice. Everything was richly adorned; but the whole arrangement, furniture, porcelain, and walls, looked as if no eye had ever rested on them with pleasure, nor careful housewife rejoiced in their possession. There were remarkable things from every part of the world; first they had been placed in the large a.s.sembly-rooms which were opened at Court fetes; then they had ceased to be in fashion, and were moved into side-rooms. It was now their destiny to be handed down from one generation to another, and counted once a year to see if they were still there. Thus they pa.s.sed a never-ending existence--preserved, but not used; kept, but disregarded.

"It is damp and cold here," said the Prince, looking round upon the walls, and again hastening into the open air.

"How do the arrangements please your Highness?" asked the Marshal.

"They will do very well," answered the Prince, "except the pictures."

"Some of them certainly are rather improper," acknowledged the Marshal.

"My father would be pleased if you could remove these. When is Professor Werner expected?"

"This evening," replied the Chamberlain. "Perhaps your Highness would wish to receive the guest after his arrival, or to pay him a visit yourself."

"You may ask my father," replied the Prince.

When the Prince went with his companion up the staircase to his own rooms in the castle, the Chamberlain began:

"The Professor's wife was very much pleased once with the flowers which your Highness sent her. May I commission the Court gardener to put some in her room?"

"Do what you think fitting," replied the Prince, coldly.

He entered his apartment, looked behind him to see if he were alone, and went with rapid steps to the window; from thence he looked over the level lawn and the blooming rows of trees to the pavilion. He gazed long through the window, then took a book from the table and seated himself in the corner of the sofa to read; but he laid the book on the table again, paced hastily up and down, and looked at his watch.

The Court dinner was over. The ladies cast a half glance behind them to see if the back-ground was clear for their retiring curtsies. The gentlemen took their hats under their arms. The Marshal approached the door, and held his gold-headed stick with graceful deportment--a sure sign that the royal party was about to break up. The Princess, who was still in mourning, stopped her brother.

"When do they come? I am so curious," she said, in a low tone.

"They are perhaps already there," answered he, looking down.

"I am going to the theatre to-day for the first time again," continued the Princess. "Come into my box if you can."

The Prince nodded. Information came to the Marshal, which he conveyed to the Prince's father. "Your teacher, Professor Werner, is come," said he, aloud, to his son. "You will undoubtedly wish to pay your compliments to him." He then bowed to the Court, and the young Princess followed him out of the room.

The Chamberlain hastened to the pavilion. The Marshal followed more quietly. A royal equipage had brought the travelers from the nearest station. They pa.s.sed rapidly by the trees in the park, the pleasure-grounds, and the lighted windows of the royal castle. The pavilion was no longer a shapeless building, as it appeared in the day, under the glaring sun, to the indifferent eyes of the courtiers. The moon lighted up the front, and shone with a glimmering halo on the walls; it threw a silver glitter on the cheeks of the angels, and on the solid broad leaves of their garlands, and brought out strongly on the bright surface of the wall the shadows of the projecting cornices.

Wax-lights shone through the open door. Lackeys, in rich liveries, held heavy candelabra. The steward of the house, a friendly looking personage, in dress coat and knee-breeches, stood in the hall and greeted the comers with polite words. Following the lackeys, Ilse ascended the carpeted steps, on her husband's arm, and when the servant threw back the _portiere_, and the row of rooms appeared shining with wax-lights, she could hardly suppress an exclamation of astonishment.

The steward led them through the rooms, explained the disposal of them, and Ilse perceived, with rapid glance, how stately and comfortable they all were. She looked with admiration at the abundance of flowers which were placed in the vases and bowls. She wondered whether her little Prince had shown this tender attention, but was undeceived when the official announced that the Chamberlain had sent them. A pretty maid was introduced, who was to wait upon her exclusively. Gabriel stood in the ante-room considering where he and his traps would be taken, in order that the Professor's boots might, in the morning, be no dishonor to the splendor of the house. At last one of the lackeys showed him his room, and, like a good comrade, pointed out to him the lamps of a tavern, which for his leisure hours would be particularly agreeable.