CHAPTER XXIII.
THE LONG DAY.
Hamilton could not help feeling flattered at the evident pleasure which his return caused to every member of the Rosenberg family. The two little boys began immediately to tell him that the Christmas-tree was expected the next day. Gustle said that he had written a list of all the toys he wished for, had placed it under his pillow, and that the little child Christ had come for it and carried it off; “So, you see, I must have been very good, or he would not have taken the list, and I shall get all the things I wrote for.”
“And,” said Peppy, “mamma met the infant Christ in the Ludwig Street, and he asked if I had been a good child, and when mamma said yes, he promised to fly into the nursery to-morrow evening and light the candles, and bring me a gun, and a cart, and bon-bons, and gingerbread.”
“To-morrow is Christmas-eve,” said Madame Rosenberg, “a great day with us. Captain Smith told me that you do not celebrate it in the same manner as we do. As to Gustle,” she added in a whisper, “he is a cunning little fellow, and only half believes what he says, but Peppy has still all the innocent faith of childhood. I, for my own part, firmly believed that Jesus gave me all my Christmas presents until I was nearly ten years old; but children now are not so easily made to believe what we say.”
“I don’t quite like this idea,” said Hamilton. “Speaking in this way seems to me to be irreverent, and must oblige you to tell the children a number of untruths.”
“Ah, bah!” cried Madame Rosenberg, laughing, “you are all too particular in this respect.”
“I think,” said her husband, “that as long as they can believe it, they may, and when they cease to do so, they naturally think that it is God who has given us the means of gratifying their wishes, and so the gifts after all come from him.”
“Oh, how I enjoy the idea of my Christmas-tree this year,” exclaimed Crescenz.
“Of course you do,” said Madame Rosenberg, “as you know that you will get so many presents. The Major returns to-morrow in order to give you the gold chain and topaz ornaments he promised you, and perhaps he may bring something of his sister’s for you from Nuremberg.”
“And what do you expect to get?” said Hamilton, turning to Hildegarde.
“I don’t know,” she replied, looking with a smile towards her father, “but I have a sort of idea that I shall get my first ball dress and some books. Mamma has promised me a tree for myself, so perhaps I shall give you some of my bon-bons.”
“How I wish to-morrow were come!” cried Gustle.
“I wish dinner were on the table,” said Mr. Rosenberg, “although we get nothing now but veal to eat, which my wife considers as a sort of preservative against cholera.”
“You are just as much afraid of cholera as I am, Franz,” she said, and then added in a whisper to Hamilton, “He laughs at me, but he takes drops and pills every night. While you were at Edelhof, we had some scenes which would, perhaps, have alarmed you. First, I thought I had got the cholera, but it was only some fat of roast lamb which had disagreed with me. Then the cook made herself ill by eating the apples which I had given her that the children might not ask for them. Then Peppy——”
“Dinner is on the table,” cried old Hans, merely putting his grey head into the room.
“That’s right,” cried Mr. Rosenberg, “and now I request that the cholera be no more named among us. A fine of six kreutzers for every time the word is said.”
“Oh, as to not saying the word ‘cholera,’” began his wife.
“A fine, a fine,” cried Mr. Rosenberg; “the money shall be put into a box and given to the poor.”
“Oh, dear,” exclaimed Crescenz, “I must take great care, or all my pocket-money will be spent on the cho——”
Hildegarde’s hand was on her mouth before the word was pronounced. The little boys clapped their hands, Hamilton laughed, and Mr. Rosenberg said he was sure that his wife and Crescenz would prove themselves the most charitable by their contributions.
The next morning Hamilton spent in choosing his presents; he was for some time exceedingly puzzled, and wavered long between books and bronze, glass and gold; at length he recollected having heard Hildegarde once say that she wished for nothing in this world so much as a little watch, but that she feared she never would be in possession of one. This decided at once his doubts, and as the others interested him less, he had soon completed his purchases with a large box of toys for the children.
On his return, he found Fritz at home for the holidays; he was sitting at the drawing-room window with his brothers, all three yawning and looking most melancholy. “What o’clock is it?” was the exclamation as he entered.
“Four o’clock,” said Hamilton; “but why do you look so sorrowful?”
“Two whole hours to wait,” sighed Fritz.
“Two long hours,” yawned Gustle.
“Two hours before the angel comes to light the candles and ring the bell,” said Peppy.
“Pshaw, mamma might light the candles at five o’clock; it will be dark enough, I am sure,” said Fritz, in a whisper to Hamilton.
“Where are your sisters?”
“They are with mamma, hanging the bon-bons and fastening the wax tapers on the trees, I suppose; but when the presents are being brought in they will be sent off too, though Crescenz thinks herself old enough to light the candles and do everything.”
“In what room are they?”
“In the school-room, but you need not expect to get in; both doors are locked.”
“What do you think the little child Jesus will send you?” asked Peppy, approaching Hamilton confidentially. “Did you, too, put a list under your pillow, like Gustle? Next year, if I can write, I shall ask for so many things. Trumpets, and drums, and harlequins. What do you think you will get?”
“Bon-bons, probably.”
“And something else, too,” said Gustle, nodding his head.
“You promised not to tell,” cried Fritz, threateningly approaching his brother.
“Don’t you think,” cried Gustle, boldly, “that because you wear a uniform, I’m afraid of you. I’ll tell what I like——”
Fritz caught him by the collar, Gustle threw off his arm, and a considerable scuffle ensued.
“Hildegarde has not finished the travelling-bag,” shouted Gustle, angrily, “and papa says it is just as well, as it was not a civil sort of present.”
At this moment Hildegarde and Crescenz entered the room.
“Turned out! turned out!” cried Fritz and Gustle, unanimously joining in the attack on their sisters.
Hildegarde smiled, Crescenz grew red, and observed that everything was ready; there was nothing more to be done.
“Turned out all the same,” said Fritz, “though you are nearly sixteen, and going to be married. Ha! ha! ha!”
“You are very ill-natured, Fritz, always talking of my going to be married, though you know I dislike its being spoken of.”
“Not you! Didn’t I see you playing grand with Lina Berger when I was at home last Sunday? You both seemed to consider Hildegarde beneath your notice, and she is worth a dozen such as you, and a hundred such as Lina Berger.”
“I was learning to make a new kind of purse.”
“As if I did not know the purses were all made! No, you were talking of old Count Zedwitz, who was so ill that the Doctor had to visit him at his castle. I heard all you said, and understood you, too, though you spoke French.”
Crescenz blushed deeply. Hildegarde became very pale, turned suddenly to her sister, and said, in a scarcely audible voice, “Crescenz, you surely have not had the cruelty to explain to Lina Berger, or gratify her curiosity?”
“Lina suspected almost everything, and asked me so many questions that I did not know what to say. You forget that the Doctor was sent for, and that the old Count was ill from mental agitation; I dare say he told him everything.”
“What he left untold you have supplied. It is the last time I shall ever confide in you.”
“Don’t be angry, Hildegarde,” cried Crescenz, with tears in her eyes; “surely it is no disgrace to you that such a man as Count Zedwitz wished to——”
“Silence!” cried Hildegarde, sternly, “and never mention his name again.”
“Whew,” whistled Fritz; “Hildegarde is in a passion; look at her eyes! Fight it out, Cressy, and then make it up again!”
But Crescenz threw herself on her knees before her sister, and, seizing her hands, faltered, “Oh, Hildegarde, forgive me; I have done wrong, but you know that Lina always makes me do as she pleases. Forgive me—only say that you forgive me this time!”
“I forgive you,” said Hildegarde, “but I never can trust you again.”
The sound of Madame Rosenberg’s voice speaking to Major Stultz in the adjoining room made Crescenz spring up and follow the children, who ran to meet him.
Hamilton looked at Hildegarde, but did not utter a word. Every feature of her face expressed intense annoyance, as she slowly turned to the window and leaned her head against it. The greetings in the next room were cordial; the children boisterously reminded Major Stultz of the presents which he had promised to bring them from Nuremberg.
“They are come or coming,” he answered; “I had them all packed up; and only think, the infant Christ met me on my way here, took them all from me, and promised to place them all under the Christmas-tree this evening himself.”
“Well,” cried Fritz, “I must say that this 24th of December is the very longest day in the whole year.”
“And yet it is generally supposed to be one of the shortest,” said Major Stultz, laughing; he advanced towards Hamilton and shook his hand.
“You are a new arrival as well as myself, I hear. All my people in Nuremberg tried to persuade me to stay there in order to be out of the way of the cholera, and they would, perhaps, have succeeded, had not my impatience to see Crescenz again been so great; besides, I hope to hurry matters by my presence, and that in about a fortnight at furthest, Madame Rosenberg——”
“I have no objection, my dear Major, but Franz has taken it into his head that Crescenz ought to wait until after her birthday, and go to one ball with her sister before her marriage. We do not yet know when the first museum ball will take place.”
“Pooh, nonsense! She can go to the ball after our marriage, just as well as before it; eh, Crescenz?”
Crescenz smiled unmeaningly, and Hildegarde turned the conversation by telling her mother that the Hoffmanns had requested permission to come to the Christmas-tree in the evening, to see the presents.
“You have invited them, of course. The Bergers are coming too, and old Madame Lustig; I invited her because I intend to ask her to take charge of you all some day next month, as I have promised to visit my father at the iron-works; besides, she has taken a deal of trouble about workwomen for Crescenz, and all that sort of thing; I expect her to offer to stay here to-night and take care of the children until we return from the midnight mass. I hope, Major, you can remain awake until twelve o’clock.”
“In Crescenz’s society I can answer for myself; otherwise I must say I consider nine o’clock as the most rational hour for retiring to rest.”
“But you will go with us to hear the high mass at midnight, won’t you?”
“Oh, of course.”
“Come, girls, assist me to arrange the tea things; we will not, however, employ Mr. Hamilton to make tea this time, but he may help to carry the long table out of the next room for us.”
Hamilton and Major Stultz carried in the table, and everything was soon arranged for the expected guests.