The Romance of the Canoness Part 7

I can not describe the state of mind in which I spent the days until the following Sunday.

When a house, in which a man has lived safely and happily for years, suddenly falls under the shock of an earthquake, and he escapes, at great peril, with bruised head and half-broken limbs into the open air, his feelings may be somewhat akin to mine.

At first, it is true, the old Adam stirred and tried to reconstruct the ruined edifice and persuade me that it might be made habitable again.

But I soon felt that the dust floating around it oppressed my breathing more and more, and the old walls shook at the slightest motion. Only one little room had escaped the universal destruction--the one I was to enter and shut the door behind me to be alone with my Creator and my love for him.

But I am not writing the confessions of my own soul and my incarnation, but the account of a far better and more interesting human being. So I will be brief.

My anxiety lest the old pastor should be able to fill his pulpit again the following Sunday, for which I did not reproach myself at all, though it showed little love for my neighbor, had been superfluous. His disease again confined him to the arm-chair by the window. But he talked long and cordially with me, and, when on my departure he embraced me, I thought I perceived that he was better satisfied with my conversation this time than during our first interview. With his wife, however, I had found no special favor as yet.

When the Sunday had come and I heard the bells ring and the hymn was sung, I was obliged to drink a gla.s.s of the wine kept in the vestry for the communion service, in order to control the wholly unprecedented weakness that a.s.sailed me. My knees trembled as if I were about to plead my own cause before a jury, in a case where my life was at stake.

Yet there were only two judges in the church whose verdict I valued--my own consciousness, and the grave face beside Mother Lieschen in the last pew.

To be brief, the culprit was absolved.

I had chosen the text, "I will not let thee go, except thou bless me!"

And when I began to speak it was not long ere I forgot everything around and was entirely alone in the church with one whom hitherto I had only known afar off, but who now for the first time drew near me, clasped my cold, damp hand, and gazed into my eyes with indescribable goodness, gentleness, and majesty, so that I clung fervently to him and poured forth all the trouble of my bewildered soul till he raised and blessed me.

My heart was so melted by the feeling of having at last beheld my G.o.d that I did not even glance at the pew under the organ-loft. But, in a pause which I was compelled to make to control my emotion, I perceived two things that satisfied me that I had found the right words: the pastor's wife was gazing affectionately at me with motherly love, as if she were listening to her own son, and the baron had again let his chin sink on his breast and was sleeping the sleep of the just, as soundly and sweetly as I had seen him on the previous Sunday during the old pastor's sermon.

I could scarcely wait for dinner. I did not expect a kind word from any of the others, but I firmly believed that she would grant me a friendly look.

But, as I entered the dining-room, my first glance fell on the cold, arrogant face of Cousin Kasimir, and all my pleasure was spoiled.

True, my heart grew warm again. For the first time Uncle Joachim was not the only one who pressed my hand. Fraulein Luise also extended hers, which was neither small nor especially white, but, when I cordially clasped and pressed it, I felt a joy akin to that of the first man when the Creator stretched out his hand and bade him rise and look heavenward.

It was but a brief happiness; I perceived, by the Canoness's stern eyes and compressed lips, that she was no longer thinking of me and my sermon, but of something repulsive and hopeless. Besides, she did not whisper some confidential remark to her neighbor now and then, as usual, and a leaden cloud of discomfort rested upon the whole company at table.

Cousin Kasimir alone seemed to be in an unusually cheerful mood, which, however, did not appear quite natural, and chattered continually, telling hunting stories, news from Berlin, and occasionally commencing bits of gossip, which the baron hastened to interrupt on the children's account.

He was very handsomely dressed, wore a small bouquet of violets in his new dark-blue coat, and had carefully trimmed his somewhat thin fair hair and small mustache.

As soon as we rose from the table, the Canoness was retiring as usual, but her uncle said: "Come to my room, Luise." She looked at him with a steady, almost defiant glance, then stooped to kiss her aunt's cheek and followed him.

Cousin Kasimir had approached Mademoiselle Suzon, to whom he constantly paid compliments in French, without receiving any special encouragement. My pupil had seized his sister's hand and hurried off to show her a new gun Cousin Kasimir had brought him. The old baroness sat in her high-backed chair, gazing at the beautiful blue sky as if her thoughts were far away. I took my leave of her, which roused her from her abstraction, and she gave me her little wrinkled hand, looked at me with her sad, gentle eyes, and said: "You edified me greatly to-day, Herr Candidate. G.o.d bless you for it."

At any other time this praise would have greatly delighted me, but to-day all my thoughts were fixed on the person to whom my heart clung, and I could not shake off the idea that she was now enduring an unpleasant scene. I went up to my chamber in the tower and paced restlessly to and fro within its four walls, like a wild beast in a cage. Sometimes I went to the window and looked down into the court-yard without knowing what I expected to see there. An hour probably pa.s.sed in this way, then a groom led Cousin Kasimir's horse to the foot of the steps and, directly after, he himself appeared, accompanied by the master of the house. He was very much excited, he had c.o.c.ked his hat defiantly over his left eye, and was lashing his high boots violently with his riding-whip. I heard his disagreeable laugh, which now sounded angry and malignant. He shook the baron's hand and, with a wrathful smile, said a few words I did not understand, which brought a sullen look to his companion's face. Then he swung himself into the saddle, driving his spurs into the flanks of his n.o.ble horse so cruelly that it reared high in the air, and then darted like an arrow down the elm avenue with its savage rider.

I remained standing at the window a little longer; I did not know myself why I felt so strangely relieved by this speedy departure.

Something decisive, something that had made the hated cousin's blood boil, had evidently occurred. And I grudged him no vexation.

The air was now pure again, and I determined to go down to the kitchen-garden in quest of information. But, while pa.s.sing Uncle Joachim's open windows, I did not hear the Canoness's voice, and could nowhere find any trace of her. The peac.o.c.k screamed so discontentedly as I pa.s.sed him that I knew he had not received his usual Sunday dainty. But in other respects the garden was very pleasant, the beds were full of spring flowers, and the first light-green foliage was waving on all the branches in the delightful May air. At last I met my old friend Liborius.

He was sitting in his clean white sleeves on one of the farthest benches, with a tattered book in his hand, and a cigar, a luxury he allowed himself only on Sunday, between his teeth.

I sat down beside him, took the volume, which was nothing worse than a novel by Van der Velde, now forgotten, and ere ten minutes had pa.s.sed I knew everything I desired to learn. For, as the castle afforded no other entertainment, so thorough a system of watching and listening had been established that the family might as well have discussed their most private affairs before the a.s.sembled servants as behind closed doors.

The long and short of the matter was that Cousin Kasimir had sued for the hand of the Canoness; but the latter, on being informed by her uncle of the flattering and advantageous offer, had curtly replied that she felt neither love nor esteem for the suitor, and begged once for all that she might hear no more about him.

A terrible scene had followed, the baron had flown into an inconceivable fury, upbraided her for her poverty, her impiety, her defiance of his kindness and wisdom as her guardian, and who could tell where it might have ended had not the young lady turned away with a contemptuous shrug of the shoulders and left the room.

Now even her pleasant coffee-drinking with Uncle Joachim was spoiled.

She had locked herself up in her chamber, and would not see any human being.

I heard all this--part of which I had already conjectured--with secret triumph, bade my informant good-evening, and strolled through the park into the open country.

Never had I been so happy on any day I had spent in the castle. A small quiet flame was burning in my breast, as if it were some pure hearthstone, and must have shone from my eyes. At least all who met me looked at me as if they saw me for the first time, or, rather, were wondering what change had taken place in me. The peasants in that neighborhood are not loquacious, but more than one stopped of his own accord and said something about the crops, the weather, and the need of a good harvest, in which I thought I heard the a.s.surance that they no longer considered me a stranger, but would confidently confess their spiritual wants as well as their external ones.

And the young grain was so beautifully green, the little fleecy clouds in the bright sky drifted along so gayly, the countless nightingales were already beginning their evening songs, scarcely a patch of green was visible in the meadows among the spring flowers, the dogs lay yawning and stretching in front of the little houses, which extended from the village to the fir-wood, and the only person who had been like the Satan of this beautiful spot of earth, Cousin Kasimir, had departed, gnashing his teeth, leaving the good people to enjoy the bright Sunday repose.

When I at last approached the little wood, whose narrow border of young birch-trees bounded the last inhabited tract, I saw a low hut whose straw roof looked as awry and dilapidated as a moth-eaten fur cap that has fallen over one of its wearer's ears. I knew that Mother Lieschen lived here, but had always pa.s.sed by it on my strolls. To-day some impulse prompted me to go there.

It was a miserable shelter for a human being, having but one window by the side of the low door, and only a single room, which had not been whitewashed for many years. A patch of ground behind it, inclosed by a low, ruinous fence, contained a few potato-plants and two tiny flower-beds, both still empty. A lean goat, tethered to the fence, was grazing on a bit of turf; two pairs of stockings and a much-darned shirt were hanging on the old palings to dry. Yet this scene of the deepest poverty seemed to me more beautiful than Gessner's trimmest idyl, for, on the bench before the house, by the side of the old woman, whose thin gray hair fluttered unconfined, sat the object of my secret worship.

The Canoness held on her lap a woman's old blue waist, which she was so busily engaged in darning that she did not notice my approach until I stood close before her. Mother Lieschen was half blind, and could not see anything at a distance of more than two paces.

I was greatly astonished, when Fraulein Luise looked up at me, to see in her beautiful, calm face no trace of the emotions which had embittered the afternoon.

She greeted me in her usual simple way, but I felt that I was no longer a disagreeable object. With a slight blush, she told me that she was helping the old woman--whose stiff fingers could scarcely hold the needle--with her sewing. I asked if I might join them, and took my seat on the bottom of a wash-tub turned upside down. The kitten came out of the hut, rubbed purring against me, and at last jumped confidingly into my lap. Then a short conversation began, which seemed to me far more interesting than the most profound debates at our college.

I do not know what we talked about, but I can still remember that the old dame, who spoke the purest Low German, sometimes made brief, droll remarks, which greatly amused all three of us. She had asked Fraulein Luise to tell her about Berlin, where, though nearly seventy, she had never been. But the Canoness did not relate all the marvels as if she were talking to a child, but as though she expected from Mother Lieschen's wisdom a decisive verdict upon people and things. I rarely mingled in the conversation between the two friends, but gazed intently at the Canoness's beautiful bowed face and amber hair, and then at the slender fingers that used the needle and thread so nimbly. Sometimes the goat bleated, and the kitten arched her soft back to rub it against my hand.

At last the difficult task was finished, and Fraulein Luise rose, pressed the old dame's shriveled fingers, pushed back from her face a few gray hairs that had fallen over her eyes, and prepared to return home.

I asked if I might accompany her, and she silently nodded a.s.sent.

Yet at first we said nothing. I cast stolen side-glances at her. She wore a dark summer dress, very simple in style, which, like all her clothes--as I knew through friend Liborius--she had made herself. But it fitted her so well. Her figure, which afterward became somewhat too stout, was then in its most perfect symmetry.

At last I said, "You are becoming a deaconess, Fraulein, after all. At least, I am constantly meeting you engaged in some work of charity."

She looked calmly at me. "I hope you don't say that in mockery, because you do not believe in works, and think salvation is gained only by faith. But I have never understood that. Whoever regards neighborly love as not merely a command, but a necessity of the heart, can be happy on earth only when he helps his fellow-man wherever he can. And do you really believe any one can be happy in heaven who was not so on earth?"

I now launched into a long discourse upon salvation by faith, till I perceived that she was listening absently.

Suddenly she interrupted me.

"No, I would not do for a deaconess. If I were to wear a special uniform of Christian charity, I should begin to be ashamed of what is best and dearest within me. A thing that is a matter of course ought not to be made a profession whose sign we wear. Others, I know, think differently. But neither could I put on the pastor's robe, if I were a man. Yet perhaps it is necessary; people cling to appearances, and clothes make people."

She said all this interruptedly, stooping frequently to gather flowers--which she arranged in a bouquet--from the meadows through which we were walking.