The Romance of the Canoness Part 15

While the simple but very excellent food was handed around--Fraulein Kunigunde brought in the dishes, placed them at the ends of the table, and left those who sat nearest to pa.s.s them farther--I had time enough to study the two youngest and most interesting members of the company.

They had improved during the five years--at least, so far as their personal appearance was concerned. The young man, now probably about six and twenty, had a remarkably handsome face, whose swift play of expression instantly betrayed the actor. I afterward learned he was the child of a Hebrew father and a Polish mother. From the latter he inherited the pa.s.sionate fire of his eyes and the feminine delicacy of his complexion, as well as his small hands and feet. He wore a light summer suit of the latest fashion, and had a ruby ring on his little finger. But, notwithstanding his soft tenor voice, his laugh was sneering and disagreeable, and I noticed with surprise that he sometimes cast a side glance at Frau Luise which expressed open dislike, while her lip curled whenever their eyes chanced to meet.

Fraulein Victorine's face puzzled me still more. It revealed a two-fold nature, at once aspiring and sordid. Nothing could be more charming than her large, mournful gray eyes, under delicate black brows, and her little nose seemed to have been stolen from some Greek statue. But the mouth belied this refinement of nature. Spite of her youth, it was flabby and prematurely withered, and, even when it remained firmly closed, one expected nothing to issue from it save commonplace and repulsive words. Her little figure was the daintiest, and at the same time the most perfectly rounded that could be imagined, and she understood how to set off its charms in the best light.

At first I was myself deluded as I watched her melting Madonna gaze wander so disconsolately over the company, and read in it a touching legend of lost youth and premature contempt for the world. But, as soon as she began to whisper with her neighbor, an expression of coldness and insolence rested on her face that was intensely repulsive to me.

I will mention here the other members of the Round Table: A graybeard of fifty, vigorous and stoutly built, in the dress of a workman, who was introduced to me as stage-manager, machinist, and Inspector Gottlieb Schonicke--a queer fellow, who told me the very next day that he was a misunderstood genius, and, if he were only allowed to play King Lear once, the world would perceive what serious injustice had been done him for years; and his neighbor, a stout, plain, middle-aged woman, who filled the office of a prompter, but was often pressed into the service as an actress to play women of the people, Hannah in "Mary Stuart," nay, if necessity required, even the mother of Emilia Galotti.

All these worthy actors and actresses behaved during the meal like mutes, and I thought I noticed that the presence of Frau Luise, whose kindness they regarded as condescension, embarra.s.sed them. The only person whose manner displayed dignified ease was the manager himself, who did not let the conversation drop, first discussing all sorts of technical questions with the tall comedian, then turning to me and asking minute questions about the present condition of theatrical affairs in Berlin. I could not help secretly owning that he did not lack culture and sound judgment; and a certain enthusiasm for great models, whom he had studied on the stage, though it was expressed in a somewhat sentimental manner, and rather too abundantly garnished with cla.s.sical quotations after the manner of actors, also did him honor.

Besides, he ate very little and very gracefully, and always offered his wife the best pieces, which she declined with a blush.

Frau Luise said little, devoted herself to the child, and thanked me with a half smile for my services to him.

When the delicious plums and early pears, that formed the dessert, had been eaten, she rose from the table. A hasty "May the meal do you good!" was uttered on all sides without shaking hands, and in two minutes the whole company had dispersed. The manager, after again kissing his wife's hand, beckoned me to accompany him. "I must first of all take you into better company," he declaimed with his sonorous laugh. "I drink my coffee every day at the club-house, where all the rich dignitaries meet. You won't object to my taking your 'kinsman'

away from you, Luise?"

She silently shook her head and dismissed me with an absent "Farewell."

I should have infinitely preferred to stay with her and the little boy, who had completely won my heart. But the actor had already pa.s.sed his hand through my arm, and now led me out. Nothing was more painful to me than this familiar contact with a man whom I had cursed a thousand times in my heart, and who was now treating me so kindly and frankly that I could not even have stabbed him with Macbeth's imaginary dagger.

We had scarcely reached the street, when he suddenly stopped, took off his straw hat, and pa.s.sed his large, well-shaped hand across his brow.

"I am extremely glad that you have come, Herr Doctor," he said in a subdued voice. "I don't grudge my wife a little agreeable refreshment, such as a visit from an old friend affords.

'She is a woman, take her all in all!

We ne'er shall look upon her like again.'

But we will not conceal it from each other, she is not exactly in her sphere among us. Her eloping with me was a piece of magnanimous folly, which she does not repent, it is true, she is too proud for that, and--" here he straightened his shoulders and replaced his hat on his flowing locks--"and too happy in her marriage with me. Nevertheless, she is an aristocrat, and the best among us have a drop of gypsy blood in our veins. If she could have resolved to act--with her appearance, her superb voice--I am sure that she would now be completely absorbed by her new profession, and it would have been a great gain to me. But nothing would induce her to do this. Now she sits alone during the many hours that I am occupied, for the boy is a little aristocrat, too, and so quiet--I would rather have had a girl, you know. Girls can be used in the business much younger, and there is no such need of educating them. Well, as I said, it is only for her sake--she is really a pearl of her s.e.x, and never complains. But I should like to see her shining in a suitable setting. Posterity weaves no garlands for the actor, and his contemporaries only too often twine for him a crown of thorns.

That they wound her forehead, too, is painful to me. I am really a kind-hearted fellow. It is not true that genius makes people wicked and selfish. You will yet be convinced of it."

I replied that I should not have much time to become acquainted with all his good qualities, as I intended to continue my journey the following day.

In fact, all these disclosures made my heart so sore that I wished myself a hundred miles away.

He instantly took my arm again and led me on. "We will discuss that subject further. I will not impose any restraint upon you, but, you know, temptation is really violence, and I think you will be able to endure our society for a few weeks at least. Come to the theatre tonight. It is not our worst performance. True, when I think of the difficulties with which a traveling company must contend, and how differently I might fill the office of a priest of art, had not envy and intrigues forced me away from the great theatres--"

Here he launched forth into descriptions of his former triumphs, to which I listened with only half an ear.

I remained only half an hour in the club-room, to which he conducted me mainly to show the distinction he enjoyed among these worthy citizens.

His game of dominoes, at which I was merely a spectator, wearied me, and his drinking three small gla.s.ses of rum to one cup of coffee completely destroyed my dawning good opinion of him. I pleaded a headache, which would not allow me to endure the smoke-laden atmosphere of the room, and, as he was entirely absorbed in a conversation with several enthusiastic admirers, he dismissed me without opposition by one of his royal gestures of the hand.

I sauntered in a very miserable mood through the little city and out of the gate.

The day was beautiful, the air had been cooled by a light shower while we were drinking our coffee, and the neighborhood of the little town, with its fields and meadows dotted with fruit-trees, was well worth seeing. But my mind was closed against the perception of anything pleasant.

I could not help constantly saying to myself: "So she lives here, with this man, among these people! And she has before her a long life, which can never again tend upward to the heights, but always downward, slowly paralyzing the mind and soul."

For the unruffled cheerfulness of her manner at the table had not deceived me an instant. True, the life she had led in her uncle's house was by no means what she deserved. Yet, in those days, amid all the oppression, all the repugnance to so much that was base, her eyes had sparkled with joyous pride, and her head was held proudly erect on her strong shoulders. Now it drooped slightly as though under an unseen burden, and her large eyes often wandered to the floor as though seeking something that was lost.

My grief for her was so intense that it even crowded the old pa.s.sionate love into a corner of my heart, especially as I had taken a solemn vow to see in her only the wife of another. Nay, I believe, if I had found her perfectly happy, with head erect and laughing eyes, I would have uprooted the weeds of envy and jealousy from my poor soul forever.

True, Uncle Joachim had said: "Whatever folly a woman like her may commit, she will not allow herself to succ.u.mb to it." He knew her well.

But how much secret misery a human being may have to endure, even though he or she "bears the inevitable with dignity."

Absorbed in these thoughts, I had walked a long distance, and was already considering whether I should not let the "Ancestress" go, and find some pretext for taking my departure that very evening, when I saw Frau Luise herself, with her little boy, approaching me by the shady path that led through a wood. The child was frisking merrily around his mother, but she walked slowly with bowed head, and seemed to answer his questions very absently. She had put on a small hat that had slipped back from her head, and a blue sunshade rested carelessly on her left shoulder. She came slowly forward without looking up, until the child noticed me, and with a sudden exclamation ran to her and seized her hand; then, with a friendly nod, she paused.

At first we talked of indifferent matters, the weather, the pretty location of the city, and the superior fertility of the soil to that of her native region. This brought us to the persons we had both known there, and about whom she had been kept informed by Uncle Joachim. I learned that my former pupil had been placed in the cadet barracks, and that his sister was betrothed to Cousin Kasimir. Mademoiselle Suzon had quitted the castle a few weeks after my departure, to return no more.

She pa.s.sed quickly over this point, but a contemptuous curl of her lower lip betrayed that she had been informed of the whole affair. A young English lady had now taken the Frenchwoman's place; she did not know whether she could play chess, but she seemed to fill her predecessor's position satisfactorily in every other respect. Sometimes the new pastor--the old one had gently fallen asleep in death--came to the castle in the evening and held devotional exercises for an hour.

Everything else remained unchanged. The veteran peac.o.c.k had spread his tail for the last time the previous winter, and she was keeping some of his feathers as a relic.

Then for a time we relapsed into silence. The dear child walked gravely along between us, holding a hand of each. When we came out of the wood, we saw a meadow thickly besprinkled with autumn flowers. "Run, Joachimchen, and pick a beautiful bouquet for Uncle Johannes," said the mother.

The child obeyed, climbing merrily over the little slope by the road.

"He is so bright," said Frau Luise, "he hears everything, and already understands more than is well, or at least has his little confused thoughts about all sorts of subjects. And I must tell you something that is to remain a secret between ourselves. I have never so thoroughly despised any one from the depths of my heart as Uncle Achatz, and it was a punishment to me even to breathe the same air.

When I came to his house--only a few months after my mother's death--he had the effrontery to persecute me with offers of love. He wished to get a divorce and marry me. You can imagine that I longed to go out into the wide world then; but pity for my aunt, who is a saint-like sufferer, withheld me. During those sorrowful years I learned that man has no other source of strength and peace than his conscience, his love of truth, and the quiet communion with his G.o.d, who, it is true, answers us not when we chatter to him overmuch, but when we listen in the deepest silence. He commanded me to interfere when a good and innocent person was shamefully insulted in my presence. 'The measure is full!' cried a voice in my heart. 'You must no longer breathe the air of this house, where all human dignity is trampled under foot.' So I did what I could not help doing. I knew I was undertaking no easy task, and those who charged me with frivolity never knew me. Now, with G.o.d's a.s.sistance, I will perform it. And he has given me something that has helped me through many a trying hour and will aid me year after year."

Her eyes wandered to the child, who had already gathered a handful of flowers, and with sparkling eyes was holding them up to show them to his mother.

"The dear little fellow!" I said.

"Yes, if I did not have him! He has never caused me a single sorrow. He const.i.tutes my entire happiness."

"Your _entire_ happiness, Frau Luise?"

The question had scarcely escaped my lips ere I regretted it. What right had I to tear the veil she had drawn over her fate?

But she raised it herself.

"No," she said, "you must not misunderstand me. The child is not the sole blessing I possess, but he is really my only _entire_ happiness.

You do not yet know my husband thoroughly. He is a n.o.ble-hearted man, and would do anything for my sake, so far as he could antic.i.p.ate my wishes. But his profession makes him see the world in a different light, and think other objects desirable. That is usually the case between married people, and must be accepted. Have you ever or anywhere found entire happiness? We must strive to receive the patchwork with our whole souls, then the gaps will be filled, and, as the words run in Faust, 'the insufficient becomes an event.' Stay with us a few days.

You will then judge many things differently."

I did not know what to answer, but a cry of terror from the boy relieved me from my dilemma. We saw him suddenly spring aside, stumble over a clod of earth, and fall, still holding the flowers tightly in his little hand. I was at his side in an instant, lifted him, and saw that an ugly fat toad, which had jumped clumsily into the ditch, had frightened him. He was still trembling in every limb, but already smiled again and held out the bouquet to me.

"His nerves are so sensitive," said his mother, as she smoothed the little bare head. "If he could only be more in the open air. But all my time is so occupied that I can scarcely manage to spend an hour out of doors with him every afternoon. And his father lives so entirely in his art that he does not see it."

She became absorbed in her thoughts, while I walked by her side, carrying the boy in my arms. He soon climbed on my shoulders and pretended I was his horse, till his shouts and laughter even called a smile to his mother's grave face.

Just before reaching the city, we again walked decorously side by side.

I took my leave outside the house. Should I see her at the theatre? No, she always remained at home and her husband went with his colleagues to the club-room, so she could not receive me, but hoped to see me early in the morning, or at any rate at dinner.

I dared not at once bid her farewell forever; nay, I no longer believed I should have the courage to set out on my return the next morning. The child had won my heart.