Villa Eden Part 200

"Will you allow me to send for the Priest?"

"Certainly, I will bring him myself."

"No! Remain here."

He gave through the speaking-tube an order that the Priest should be requested to come to him; then, turning again to Pranken, said,--

"And so you second the request? Most excellent! They sell blacks, buying whites instead, and the whites become snow-white. They even become saints."

"I do not understand you."

"Very likely. I am only pleased at the excellent arrangement of this world. My young friend, I believe that the thing called virtue is taught by means of a system in the Universities: they have a system of morality. We, my young friend, will work out a system of criminality.

We will establish a chair in the University: Thousands of auditors will come flocking around us, whom we alone can instruct in the Truth, the real Truth. The world is magnificent! It must nominate me for the professorship of worldly wisdom, which is a science differing widely from the idea hitherto entertained of it. It is time that this moral rouge should be rubbed off. I know, thus far, but one human being whom I shall admit as my colleague into this faculty, and that one, alas! is a woman; but we must overcome this prejudice also. Magnificent!"

"You have not yet told me whether you accede to the plan"--

"Have I not? My young friend, you cannot yet become a professor. You are still a school-boy, learning the elements, the rudiments. I would fain found a new Rome, and, as once the Rome of Antiquity was peopled with a community of mere vagabonds, so I would fill my city from the houses of correction. No nation can equal their inhabitants. They are the really vigorous men."

"I do not understand you."

"You are right," said Sonnenkamp at last in a gentle tone. "We will be very upright and discreet, very moral and delicate. My young friend, I have something very different in view. The mouse-trap of your cathedral dean is too clumsy for me. I shall not snap at this bait cooked in lard."

Pranken was full of wrath. Sonnenkamp's manner of treating him like a boy still in his school-jacket roused his indignation.

He stood up very straight, and looked down at himself from head to foot, to see whether he were indeed a little boy. At last he said, throwing back his head,--

"Respected father, I beg you to desist from this pleasantry."

"Pleasantry?"

"Yes. I have united myself to you--you cannot deny it--with a loyalty that--I have wished to make you my equal in--no, I did not mean to say that at such a time--only I must beseech you not to withhold your concurrence from this project. We have obligations. We, have great obligations; and I demand that you should"--

"Why do you hesitate? Obey! Pray say the word. Yes, my n.o.ble young friend, I will obey you. It is fine, very fine. What uniform have you chosen? Shall we raise a regiment of cavalry or of infantry? Of course, we will make Roland an officer at once. Better say cavalry: he sits well on horseback. Look here, revered fanatic, I, too, have my fancy.

We will ride over the Campagna. Ha! That is jolly! And we will have the best arms of the newest sort. I understand a little of that sort of thing. I have shipped many to America,--more than any of you know. What do you think of my raising the whole regiment in America?"

"That would be so much the better."

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Sonnenkamp. "A morning dream! They are said to be the sweetest. Haven't you slept almost enough? Haven't you dreamed out your dream?"

Pranken felt as though chains were being wound around and around him.

His sensations were those of a man confined in a lion's cave. He must be gentle, yielding, conciliatory. He dares not rouse the lion. He must allow the brute to play with him, expecting every instant to be torn to pieces by his claws. Oh for some means of escape!

Pranken put his hand to his head. What manner of man was this? What did he want of him?

Sonnenkamp said, with his hand on the young man's shoulder,--

"I have nothing against your piety or your pious acts. It is to me a matter of indifference; but, my young friend, none of my money shall be thrown to those cowled fellows. Fine economy, that! Manna builds a convent; you raise a regiment. And is it for this that I have undergone so much? No, you were only joking; were you not? And now let us say no more about it. Be shrewd, and deceive those who think themselves the most so. You will find that the daintiest morsel. Ah! There is Manna coming into the court! We will call her here instantly."

He called through the speaking-tube that Manna was to come to him at once.

Before Pranken had time to say any thing, the door was opened without a knock, and Manna entered.

"You sent for me, father?"

"Yes. How did you get on at the convent?"

"I have taken leave of it forever."

"Thank you, my child, thank you. You do me good, and you know how much I need it now. So now let me arrange every thing on the spot. You look so fresh, so animated! I have never seen you so much so. Herr von Pranken," turning to him, "you see how Manna has freed herself, and I have your promise to give up the matter of which we have been speaking; have I not?"

Pranken made no answer.

"I did not know that you were here, Herr von Pranken," began Manna, "but now, now it is best that it is so."

"Certainly," said Sonnenkamp decidedly. "You can have nothing to say to me which our faithful friend may not hear. Sit down."

He took, according to his wont, a little peg of wood, and began to whittle.

Manna did not sit down: with her hand on the back of a chair, she said,--

"Herr von Pranken, I wish to prove to you my grat.i.tude for your faithful"--.

"That you will, that you can," interrupted her father, looking up from his peg. "It is well. I need joy, I need rest, I need serenity. You are right. A cordial would now be doubly refreshing. Give our friend your hand now."

"I give it in farewell."

"In farewell?" cried Sonnenkamp, making a deep cut in the peg. He went up to Manna, and caught her hand.

"Pray, father," she interrupted. "Herr von Pranken, you are a n.o.bleman whom I honor and esteem. You have proved yourself loyal to my father: as his child, I shall value you, and remember you with grat.i.tude; but"--

"But what?" demanded Sonnenkamp.

"I owe it to you to speak the truth. I cannot become your wife. I love Herr Dournay, and he loves me. We are one; and no power of earth or heaven can part us."

"_You_ and the teacher, that Huguenot, that word-huckster, that hypocrite? I will strangle him with my own hands, the thief"--

"Father," returned Manna, drawing herself up to her full height, while the heroic courage which shone from her eyes made her appear taller and stronger than she was in reality,--"father, Herr Dournay is a teacher and a Huguenot. It is only your anger that speaks the rest."

"My anger shall speak no more. You do not know me yet. I stake my life on this"--

"That you will not do, father. We children have enough to bear already."

A cry, horrible as that of some monster, burst from Sonnenkamp's breast.

Turning to Pranken, he cried,--

"Leave us! Herr von Pranken. Leave me alone with her!"

"No," was the reply. "I will not leave you alone with your daughter. I have loved her. I have a right to protect her."