When they were on the stairs they heard a hoarse, discordant sound in the distance; the old gentleman shuddered, and leaned against the wall.
The Professor listened; all was still.
"It was like the cry of a wild beast."
"The sound came from the street," replied the High Steward.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
CÆSAREAN INSANITY IN THE HUMMEL FAMILY.
Mr. Hahn was walking by the side of his garden fence, his soul filled with gratitude; but as this was prevented from escaping through the usual outlet of friendly speech, it compelled him to take refuge in those chambers of his mind in which he kept the plans for the beautifying of his garden. His noble-hearted opponent was about to celebrate his birthday; this Mr. Hahn discovered in a roundabout way. On this day he might perhaps be able to show him some secret token of esteem. The greatest treasures in Mr. Hahn's garden were his standards and bush roses of every size and color,--splendid flowers which bloomed almost the whole year, and were much admired by the passers-by. They were all in pots, his delight was to move them about in the garden himself, and arrange them ornamentally in different groups. These roses he determined to dedicate as a quiet mark of homage to Mr. Hummel. He had long lamented a desolate space in the middle of his enemy's garden; it had lain bare the whole summer as a place of repose for the brindle dog or a roving cat. When Mr. Hummel should enter his garden on his birthday he should find the round bed changed into a blooming circle of roses.
This thought occasioned Mr. Hahn happy hours, and raised him a little from the depth of his sorrows. He carried the roses into a concealed corner, arranged them in rank and file according to their size and color, and wrote their numbers with chalk on the pots. The park-keeper, whose house stood at the extreme limit of the city by the river, had a little boat; this Mr. Hahn borrowed secretly for a few hours in the night. Before the early dawn of morning, on the birthday of his enemy, he slipped out of the house, rowed the pots in the boat to the small steps which led from the water-side into the garden of Mr. Hummel; he glided with his loved roses to the circular bed, arranged them noiselessly according to their numbers, planted each separately, and changed the desert spot into a blooming parterre of roses. When the sparrows in the gutters twittered out their first querulous abuse, he had smoothed down the earth in the bed with a small rake. He cast a look of pleasure on his work, and another on the still dusky outline of the house, within which Mr. Hummel still slept, unprepared for the surprise of the morning, and then glided with his spade and empty pots into his boat, rowed himself up to the house of the park-keeper, and concealed himself and his garden utensils on his own ground before the first rays of the rising sun painted his chimney with roseate colors.
Mr. Hummel entered his sitting-room at the usual hour, received with good-humor the congratulations of his ladies, looked graciously at the birthday cake which wife Philippine had placed with his coffee, and at the travelling-bag which Laura had embroidered for him, took his newspaper in his hand, and prepared himself by participation in the political concerns of men in general, for the business of his own life. All this passed off well; in his factory and in his office he received congratulations like a lamb; he stroked the snarling dog, and wrote business letters full of respect to his customers. When towards the middle of the day he returned to his ladies, and the Doctor entered his room to offer his congratulations, a dark cloud gathered on the sunny countenance of the master of the house, and lightning flashed from under his ambrosial eyebrows.
"What, Saul among the prophets! Are you come to fetch a lost ass back to your father's house? We cannot accommodate you. Or are you going to deliver a lecture upon the language of the orang-outang in the land of the cocoas?
"My lectures have not caused you any trouble so far," replied the Doctor. "I have not come in order that your hospitable politeness should take the trouble to entertain those present by the outpouring of your good humor. I have already expressed to you my wish never to be the object of it."
"Then defend yourself if you can," cried Hummel.
"I am only prevented," replied the Doctor, "by consideration for those present from giving you in your own house the answer which you seem to wish."
"I should be sorry if you were placed at any disadvantage in my house," replied Hummel. "I propose to you, therefore, to put yourself on an equal footing with me, by remaining in your own house and putting your head out of the window. I will do the same; we can then sing out to one another across the street, like two canary birds."
"But as I am here now," said the Doctor, with a bow, "I claim to be allowed to eat this piece of birthday cake in peace among friendly faces."
"Then I beg of you to resign the sight of my face without overpowering sorrow," replied Hummel.
He opened the door into the garden, and went down the steps discontentedly. While still at a distance he saw the young group of roses smiling innocently in the light of the sun. He walked round the spot, shook his head, and invited his ladies into the garden.
"Which of you got this idea?" he asked.
The ladies showed such lively surprise that he was convinced of their innocence. He called to the old storekeeper and the book-keeper. All showed entire ignorance. The countenance of Mr. Hummel became gloomy.
"What does this mean? Some one has slipped in here while we were asleep. Night garden-work is not to my taste. Who has ventured to enter my property without permission? Who has brought in these products of nature?"
He went restlessly along the side of the water: behind him followed Spitehahn. The dog crept down the steps to the water, smelt at a bit of brown wood which lay on the last step, came up again, turned towards the house of Mr. Hahn, and set up his back like a cat, mockingly, and made a snarling noise. It meant as clearly as if he had spoken the friendly words, "I wish you a pleasant meal."
"Right," cried Hummel; "the intruder has left the handle of the rudder behind. The brown handle belongs to the boat of the park-keeper. Take it over to him, Klaus. I demand an answer; who has ventured to bring his boat alongside here?"
The storekeeper hastened away with the piece of wood, and brought back the answer with an embarrassed air:
"Mr. Hahn had borrowed the boat in the night."
"If there are forebodings," cried Hummel, angrily, "this was one. This nocturnal prowling of your father I forbid under all circumstances," he continued, to the Doctor.
"I know nothing of it," rejoined the Doctor. "If my father has done this, I beg of you, even if you do not value the roses, to be pleased with the good intention."
"I protest against every rose that may be strewed on my path," cried Hummel. "First we had poisoned dumplings, with evil intentions; and now rose leaves, with good ones. Your father should think of something else than such jokes. The ground and soil are mine, and I intend to prevent roosters from scratching here."
He charged wildly into the roses, seized hold of stems and branches, tore them out of the ground, and threw them into a confused heap.
The Doctor turned gloomily away, but Laura hastened to her father and looked angrily into his hard face.
"What you have rooted up," she exclaimed, "I will replace with my own hands."
She ran to a corner of the garden, brought some pots, knelt down on the ground, and pressed the stems with the little balls of earth into them as eagerly as her father had rooted them up.
"I will take care of them," she called out, to the Doctor; "tell your dear father that not all in our house undervalue his friendship."
"Do what you cannot help," replied Mr. Hummel, more quietly. "Klaus, why do you stand there on your hind legs staring like a tortoise? Why do you not help Miss Hummel in her garden-work. Then carry the whole birthday-present back again to the youthful flower-grower. My compliments, and he must in the darkness have mistaken the gardens."
He turned his back upon the company, and went with heavy steps to his office. Laura knelt on the ground and worked at the ill-used roses with heightened color and gloomy determination. The Doctor helped silently. He had seen his father behind the hedge, and knew how deeply the poor man would feel this latest outburst on the part of his adversary. Laura did not desist till she had put all the flowers as well as possible into the pots; then she plunged her hands into the stream, and her tears mixed with the water. She led the Doctor back to the room; there she wrung her hands, quite beside herself.
"Life is horrible; our happiness is destroyed in this miserable quarrel. Only one thing can save you and me. You are a man, and must find out what can deliver us from this misery."
She rushed out of the room; the mother beckoned eagerly to the Doctor to remain behind, when he was on the point of following.
"She is beside herself," cried Fritz. "What do her words mean? What does she desire of me?"
The mother seated herself on the sofa, embarrassed and full of anxiety, cleared her throat, and twisted at her sleeves.
"I must confide something to you, Doctor," she began, hesitatingly, "which will be very painful to us both; but I know not what to do, and all the representations that I make to my unhappy child are in vain. Not to conceal anything from you,--it is a strange freak,--and I should have thought such a thing impossible."
She stopped and concealed her face in her pocket-handkerchief. Fritz looked anxiously at the disturbed face of Mrs. Hummel. A secret of Laura's that he had for weeks foreboded was now to fall destructively on his hopes.
"I will confess all to you, dear Doctor," continued the mother, with many sighs. "Laura esteems you beyond measure, and the thought of becoming your wife--I must say it in confidence--is not strange or disagreeable to her. But she has a fearful idea in her head, and I am ashamed to express it."
"Speak out," said the Doctor, in despair.
"Laura wishes you to elope with her."
Fritz was dazed.
"It is scarcely for a mother to express this wish to you, but I do not know how to do otherwise."
"But where to?" cried the Doctor, quite aghast.
"That is the most painful part of all, as you yourself must acknowledge. What put the idea into her head, whether poetry, or reading about the great world in the newspapers, I know not. But to her frame of mind, which is always excited and tragic, I can oppose no resistance. I am afraid to impart it to my husband. I conjure you to do what you can to calm my child. Her feelings are wounded, and I can no longer resist the inward struggle for this young heart."
"I beg permission," replied the Doctor, "to speak immediately with Laura on the subject."
Without waiting for the mother's answer, he hastened up the stairs to Laura's room. He knocked, but receiving no answer, opened the door. Laura was sitting by her writing-table, sobbing violently.
"Dear, sweet Laura," exclaimed the Doctor, "I have been speaking with your mother; let me know all."
Laura started.
"Every warm feeling is rejected with scorn, every hour that I see you is embittered by the hostility of my father. The heart of the poorest maiden palpitates when she hears the voice of the man she loves: but I must ask, is that the happiness of love? When I do not see you I am in anxiety about you, and when you come to us I feel tormented, and listen with terror to every word of my father. I see you joyless and cast down. Fritz, your love for me, makes you unhappy."
"Patience, Laura," said the Doctor; "let us persevere. My confidence in your father's heart is greater than yours. He will gradually reconcile himself to me."
"Yes, after he has broken both our hearts; even great love is crushed by constant opposition. I cannot, amidst the wrangling of our hostile families, become your wife; the narrow street and the old hatred are destructive to me. I have often sat here lamenting that I was not a man who could boldly battle for his own happiness. Listen to a secret, Fritz," she said, approaching him, again wringing her hands; "here I am becoming haughty, malicious, and wicked."
"I have observed nothing of that kind," replied Fritz, astonished.
"I conceal it from you," exclaimed Laura; "but I struggle daily with bad thoughts, and I am indifferent to the love of my parents. When my father pats my head, the devil cries within me he had better let it alone. When my mother admonishes me to have patience, her talk secretly irritates me, because she uses finer words than are necessary. I hate the dog, so that I often beat him without cause. The conversation at the Sunday dinner, the stories of the old actor, and the eternal little tittle-tattle of the street appear insupportable to me. I feel that I am an odious creature, and I have frequently in this place wept over and hated myself. These bad fits are ever recurring and become more overpowering. I shall never be better here: where we live under a curse, like two spoiled children. We sink, Fritz, in these surroundings! Even the loving care of parents ceases to make one happy--the anxiety that one should not wet one's feet, that one should wear woolen stockings, and have cakes and sugar plums on a Sunday--is one to go through all this every year of one's life?"
She hastily opened her journal, and held out to him a bundle of poems and letters.
"Here are your letters; through these I have learnt to love you, for here is what I revere in you. Thus would I always have you be. When, therefore, I think of what you have to go through between our houses and to bear from my father, and when I observe that you wear a double shawl under every rough blast, I become anxious and worried about you; and I see you before me as a pampered book-worm, and myself as a little stout woman with a large cap and an insignificant face, sitting before the coffee cups, talking over the daily passers by, and this thought oppresses my heart."
Fritz recognized his letters. He had long felt certain that Laura was his secret confidant, but when he now looked at the loved one who held up to him the secret correspondence, he no longer thought of the caprice which had occasioned him so much grief; he thought only of the true-heartedness and of the poetry of this tender connexion.
"Dear, dear Laura," he exclaimed, embracing her; "it seems as if two souls with which my heart had intercourse had become one, but you now divide me and yourself into human beings of daily life, and into higher natures. What has destroyed your cheerful confidence?"
"Our difficulties, Fritz, and the sorrow of seeing you without pleasure, and hearing your voice without being elevated by it; you are with me, and yet further off from me than in those days when I did not see you at all, or only in the society of friends."
She released herself from his embrace.
"Do you love me? and are you the man who has written these? If so, venture to withdraw me from this captivity. Begin a new life with me. I will work with you and be self-denying; you shall see of what I am capable; I will think day and night of how I can earn our maintenance, that you may be undisturbed by petty cares in your learned work. Be brisk and bold, cast off your eternal caution, venture for once to do what others may look at askance."
"If I were to do it," answered Fritz, seriously, "the risk would be small for me. For you the consequences may be such as you do not think of. How can you imagine that a rash determination can be good for you if it throws fresh discord into your soul, and burdens your whole life with a feeling of guilt towards others?"
"If I take upon myself to do what is wrong," exclaimed Laura, gloomily, "I do it not for myself alone. I feel but too well that it is wrong, but I venture it for our love. Never will my father voluntarily lay my hand in yours. He knows that I am devoted to you, and is not so hard as to wish my unhappiness, but he cannot overcome his disinclination. One day he is compelled to acknowledge that you are the man to whom I ought to belong, the next the bitter feeling of how hateful it is to him again returns. If you venture to defy him you will do what is really agreeable to him; show a strong will, and, though he may be angry, he will easily be appeased by your courage. He loves me," she said in a low tone, "but he is fearfully hard to others."
"Is he always so?" asked the Doctor. "It is clear the daughter does not know the full worth of her father. I should at this moment be doing both him and you an injustice if I were to conceal from you what he wishes to keep secret. Listen, then: when my poor father was sitting by me in despair, your father entered our house and gave us in the most magnanimous way the means of averting the threatened blow. Do you not know that his sulkiness and quarrelsomeness are frequently only the expression of a rough humor?"
Laura watched his mouth as if she wished to devour every word that fell from his lips.
"Did my father do this?" she exclaimed, startled to the utmost, raising her arms towards heaven, and throwing herself down upon her writing-table.
Fritz wished to raise her.
"Leave me," she entreated, passionately, "it will pass off. I am happy. Leave me alone now, beloved one."
The Doctor closed the door gently, and went down to the mother, who still sat on the sofa overwhelmed with anxiety, revolving in her mind, with motherly alarm, all the exciting scenes of an elopement.
"I beg of you," he said, "not to worry Laura now by remonstrances. She will regain her calmness. Trust to her noble heart."
With these wise words the Doctor endeavored to comfort himself. Meanwhile Laura lay supported against the chair, and thought over her injustice to her father. For years she had borne the sorrow which is bitterest to the heart of a child, and now the pressure was taken from her soul. At last she arose, drew out her diary, tore out one page after another, crumpled up the leaves and threw them into the fire--a small sacrifice. She watched it till the last sparks flickered in the dark ashes, then she closed the stove and hastened out of the room.
Mr. Hummel was sitting in his warehouse before a battalion of new hats with broad brims and round crowns, which were placed for review before his field-marshal's eye, and he spoke reprovingly to his bookkeeper:
"They are like mere barbers' basins; man is losing his dignity. At all events, we shall make profit by these coverings: no one notices the cats'-hairs of which they are made; but they rob the head of the German citizen of the last breath of fresh air that he has hitherto secretly carried about with him in his high hat. In my youth one recognized a citizen by three points: on his body he wore a coat of blue cloth, on his head a black hat, and in his pocket a great house-key, with the ring of which, in case of assault by night, he could twist the noses of assassins. Now he goes off in a gray jacket to drink his beer, opens the door of the house with a small corkscrew, and the last high hat will probably be bought up as a rarity for art collections. You may immediately put aside part of our manufacture for antiquarians."
This pleasant grumbling was interrupted by Laura, who entered eagerly, seized her father's hand with an imploring look, and drew him from his warehouse into his small office. Mr. Hummel submitted to be thus led, as patiently as Lot when the angel led him from the burning cities of the valley. When she was alone with her father she threw her arms about his neck, kissed and stroked his cheek, and for a long time could bring out nothing but "My good, noble father." Mr. Hummel was well pleased with this stormy fashion of endearment for a time.
"Now I have had enough of this caressing. What do you want? This introduction is too grand for a new parasol or a concert ticket."
"Father," cried Laura, "I know all that you have done for our neighbor. I beg your forgiveness; I, unfortunate one, have misunderstood your heart, and have many times inwardly resented your harshness."
She kissed his hands, tears falling from her eyes.
"Has that dough-face over the way been blabbing?" asked Mr. Hummel.
"He was obliged to tell me, and it was a happy moment for me. Now I will acknowledge all to you with shame and repentance. Forgive me."
She sank down before him.
"Father, I have long been sick at heart. I have thought you pitiless. Your eternal grumbling and enmity to our neighbor have made me very unhappy, and my life here has often been miserable."
Mr. Hummel sat erect and serious, but a little dismayed at the confession of his child, and he had an indistinct impression that he had carried his rough opposition too far.
"That is enough," he said; "this is all excitement and imagination. If I have been vexed through all these years, it has not done me any harm, nor the people over the way either. It is an unreasonable sorrow that now excites your lamentations."
"Have consideration for me," entreated Laura. "An irresistible longing to go forth from this narrow street, has entered my soul. Father, I would like to take a leap into the world."
"Indeed!" said Mr. Hummel. "I also should like to take a leap into it, if I only knew where this jolly world could be found."
"Father, you have often told me how light was your heart when you wandered forth as a boy from your native town, and that from these wanderings you became a man."
"That is true," replied Hummel. "It was a fine morning, and I had eight pence in my pocket. I was as lively as a dog with wings."
"Father, I also should like to rove about."
"You?" asked Hummel. "I have laid aside my knapsack; there are only a few hairs remaining on it, but you may tie your boots over it; then one cannot see it."
"Good father, I also want to go out and seek my way among strangers, and look out for what will please me. I will try my powers, and fight my may with my own hands."
"You must put on breeches," said Hummel; "you cannot otherwise go alone in your wanderings.'
"I will take some one with me," answered Laura, softly.
"Our maid Susan? She can carry a lantern for you. The paths in this world are sometimes muddy."
"No, father; I mean the Doctor."
She whispered to him:
"I want the Doctor to elope with me."
"Ah, you little spider!" cried Hummel, amazed. "The Doctor elope with you! If you were to elope with him, there would be more sense in it."
"That's just what I want to do," replied Laura.
"Mutually, then!" said Hummel. "Listen: the matter becomes serious. Leave off embracing me, keep your hands away, and make a face beseeming a citizen's daughter and not an actress."
He pushed her down on the window-seat.
"Now speak to the point. So you intend to carry off the Doctor? I ask you, with what means? For your pocket-money will not reach far, and he over the way has not much to spare for such Sunday pleasures? I ask you, will you first marry him? If so, the elopement would be very suspicious, for I have never yet heard of a woman carrying off her husband by force. If you do not marry him, there is something which you must learn from your mother, and which is called modesty. Out with it!"
"I wish to have him for a husband," said Laura, softly.
"Ah, that is it, is it? and was your Doctor ready to take charge of you before marriage, and to run away with you?"
"No; he spoke as you do, and reminded me that I ought not to give you pain."
"He is occasionally humane," replied Hummel; "I am indeed indebted to him for his good intentions. Finally, I ask you, where will you carry him off to?"
"To Bielstein, father. There is the church in which Ilse was married."
"I understand," said Hummel, "ours are too large; and what afterwards? Do you mean to work as a day-laborer on the estate?"
"Father, if we could but travel," said Laura, imploringly.
"Why not," replied Mr. Hummel, ironically; "to America, perhaps, as colleagues of Knips junior? You are as mad as a March hare. The legitimate and only daughter of Mr. Hummel will run away from her father and mother, from a comfortable house and flourishing business, with her neighbor's only son, who is in his way also legitimate, to a fools' paradise. I never could have thought that this hour would arrive."
He paced up and down.
"Now hear your father. If you had been a boy I would have had you well thrashed; but you are a girl, and your mother has formed you according to her principles. Now I perceive with regret that we have allowed you to have your own way too much, and that you may be unhappy for your whole life. You have got the Doctor into your head, and you might as well have fixed upon a tragic hero or a prince, and it shocks me to think of it."
"But I have not thought of such," replied Laura, dejectedly; "for I am my father's daughter."
Hummel laid hold of the plaits of her hair and examined them critically:
"Obstinacy; but the mixture is not throughout the same; there is something of higher womanliness with it; fancifulness, and whimsical ideas. That is the misfortune; here a powerful stroke of the brush is necessary."
These words he repeated several times, and sat down thoughtfully on his chair.
"So you wish for my consent to this little elopement. I give it you upon one condition. The affair shall remain between us two; you shall do nothing without my consent, and even your mother must not know that you have spoken to me of it. You shall take a drive into the world, but in my way. For the rest, I thank you for this present that you have made me on my birthday. You are a pretty violet for me to have brought up! Has one ever heard of such a plant taking itself by the head and tearing itself out of the ground?"
Laura embraced him again, and wept.
"Do not set your pump again in motion," cried Mr. Hummel, untouched, "that cannot help either of us. A happy journey, Miss Hummel."
Laura, however, did not go, but remained clinging to his neck. The father kissed her on the forehead.
"Away with you; I must consider with what brush I shall stroke you smooth."
Laura left the room. Mr. Hummel sat alone for a long time by his desk, holding his head with both hands. At last he began to whistle in a low tone the old Dessauer--a sign to the book-keeper, who was entering, that soft feelings had the upper hand with him.
"Go across to the Doctor, and beg him to take the trouble of coming over to me immediately."
The Doctor entered the office. Mr. Hummel rummaged in his desk and brought out a little paper.
"Here, I return you the present that you once made me."
The Doctor opened it, and two little gloves lay within.
"You may give these gloves to my daughter on the day on which you are married to her, and you can tell her they come from her father, from whom she has run away."
He turned away, approached the window, and thrummed on the pane.
"I have already told you before, Mr. Hummel, that I will not take back these gloves. Least of all will I do it for this purpose. If the happy day is ever to come to me when I can take Laura to my home, it will only be when you put your daughter's hand in mine. I beg you, dear Mr. Hummel, to keep these gloves until that day."
"Much obliged," replied Hummel; "you are a miserable Don Juan. I am in duty bound," he continued, in his usual tone, "to communicate to you what is of fitting importance to you. My daughter Laura wishes to elope with you."
"What now disturbs Laura," answered the Doctor, "and has given her these wild thoughts, is no secret to you. She feels herself oppressed by the unpleasant relations which subsist between us. I hope this excitement will pass away."
"May I be allowed to ask the modest question, whether it is your intention to agree to her plan?"
"I will not do it," rejoined the Doctor.
"Why not?" asked Hummel, coldly. "I for my part, have no objection to it."
"That is one reason the more for me not to act inconsiderately by you, nor to be treated in a like manner."
"I can bequeath my money to the hospital."
"To this remark I have only one answer," replied the Doctor. "You yourself do not believe that this consideration influences my actions."
"Unfortunately not," replied Hummel; "you are both unpractical people. So you hope that I will at last give you my blessing without an elopement?"
"Yes, I do hope it," exclaimed the Doctor. "However you may wish to appear to me, I trust that the goodness of your heart will be greater than your aversion."
"Do not count upon my indulgence. Doctor. I do not believe that I shall ever prepare a marriage-feast for you. My child gives herself with confidence into your hands; take her."
"No, Mr. Hummel," replied the Doctor, "I shall not do it."
"Has my daughter sunk so much in value because she is ready to become your wife?" asked Mr. Hummel, bitterly, and with a rough voice. "The poor girl has acquired some notions among her learned acquaintances, which do not suit the simple life of her father."
"That is unjust towards us all, and also towards our absent friends," said the Doctor, indignantly. "What now distracts Laura is only a petty enthusiasm; there is still in her some of the childish poetry of her early girlhood. He who loves her may have perfect confidence in her pure soul. Only in one respect must he maintain a firm judgment in dealing with her; he must here and there exercise a mild criticism. But I should be unworthy of the love of her pure heart if I should agree to a hasty proceeding, which would at a later period occasion her pain. Laura shall not do what is unbecoming to her."
"So that is Hindoo," replied Mr. Hummel; "there is a spark of sound common sense in your Botocudens and Brahmins. Do your learned books also find an excuse for a daughter not feeling happy in the house of her parents?"
"That is your fault alone, Mr. Hummel," replied the Doctor.
"Oho!" said Mr. Hummel; "so that's it."
"Forgive me my plain speaking," continued the Doctor. "It is the fashion of Laura's father to play the tyrant a little in his family, in spite of all his love for them. Laura has from her childhood been accustomed to view your strange nature with fear; therefore she does not form the impartial conception of your character, nor feel the pleasure in your mischievous humors that those not so intimately acquainted enjoy. If you had seen Laura's transport when I made known to her what you had done for my father, you would never doubt her heart. Now she is overcome with anguish about our future. But you may be assured, if Laura were to give in to her fancy and separate herself from her parents' house, she would soon feel gnawing repentance and longing for her parents. Therefore, the man for whom she would now make this sacrifice acts not only honorably, but also prudently, in resisting it."
Mr. Hummel looked fiercely at the Doctor.
"There is the old bear tied to a stake, the young puppies pull at his fur, and the cocks crow over his head. Take warning by my fate; under all circumstances avoid having female offspring." He put his hand upon the gloves, packed them up again, smoothed the paper, and shut them in his writing-desk. "Thus shall I lock up again my unnatural child; for the rest I remain your devoted servant. So your old Hindoos tell you that I am a droll screech-owl, and a jolly bonvivant to strangers. Is that your opinion of my natural propensities?"
"You are not quite so innocent," replied the Doctor, with a bow. "To me you have been always particularly rude."
"There is no one I would rather wrangle with than with you," acknowledged Mr. Hummel.
The Doctor bowed, and said:
"When you play with other men as with cats, they only bear such treatment because they perceive good intentions under your cross-grained exterior. I can say this to you, because I am one of the few men to whom you have shown real dislike; and, as you are also obstinate, I know very well that I shall still have to have many a tilt with you, and I am not at all sure how it will end between us. That, however, does not prevent my acknowledging the bitter amiability of your nature."
"I object to any further enlightenment as to my real character," exclaimed Mr. Hummel. "You have a disagreeable way of viewing your fellow-men microscopically. I protest against your painting me like a flea in the shadow on the wall. As concerns your proceedings as my daughter's lover, I am content with them. You do not choose to take my child in the way in which she is to be had; I thank you for your scruples. In this matter we are entirely of the same opinion, and you therefore shall not have her at all."
The Doctor wished to interrupt him, but Hummel waved his hand.
"All further talk is useless; you renounce my daughter, but you preserve the esteem of her father, and you have moreover the feeling of acting for the best for Laura. As you feel such great uprightness, you may console yourself with it. You will devote yourself to celibacy, and I should envy you, if it were not for the consideration of Madame Hummel."
"This will not avail, Mr. Hummel," replied the Doctor; "I have not the least intention of renouncing Laura's hand."
"I understand," replied Mr. Hummel; "you wish to besiege my daughter still, from across the street. This quiet pleasure I can, unfortunately no longer allow, for I am certainly of opinion that Laura must at some time leave my house; and as you have chosen the good opinion of the father rather than the daughter, we will confer on this point in mutual understanding. You are mistaken if you think that my daughter Laura will give up her fancies upon wise admonition. Have you not sometimes appealed to my conscience? It was all that could be expected, considering your age; but it has been of no avail with me. It will be the same with this obstinate child. Therefore I am, as a father, of opinion that we must give in to a certain degree to the folly of my child. Consider how far you can go to please us. She wishes to join the Professor's wife. She shall not go to this capital where my lodger has no home, but she has frequently been invited to Bielstein."
The Doctor answered:
"I have urgent reasons for going to my friend during the next few days. I will gladly make a detour by Bielstein, if you will allow me to accompany Laura on this journey, I shall make no secret of its purpose,--and least of all to my parents."
"This elopement is so shabby that, were I a girl, I should be ashamed of taking part in it. But one must not expect too much of you. I will not be at home when this departure takes place: you see, that is natural. I have already made my plans concerning my child's future. I give her over to you for the journey with confidence."
"Mr. Hummel," exclaimed the Doctor, disquieted, "I ask for still greater confidence. How have you decided concerning Laura's future?"
"As you have determined to show me such respect, I beg you will be content with the confidential intimation, that I have no intention of making you any such communication. You preserve my esteem, and I my daughter. My compact is concluded."
"But the compact is not quite satisfactory to me, Mr. Hummel," answered the Doctor.
"Hold your tongue. If in consequence of this agreement you resume your theatrical career, I should advise you never to act the rôle of lover. The audiences will run out of all the doors. Do I treat people like cats?--So I treated your father and his flowers this morning. You can give him an intimation of that. My wife has plucked to-day a few roosters for my birthday; if roasting these namesakes of yours does not excite painful feelings in you, it will give me pleasure to see you at dinner. You will not be under the embarrassment of having to talk only to my daughter, for the family clown is invited: he will keep up the conversation--you may be silent. Good morning, Doctor."
The Doctor again stretched out his hand to him. Mr. Hummel shook it, grumbling all the while. When he was again alone in his office the melody of the old Dessauer again sounded in the narrow room, now brisk and hearty. Then, soon after, Mr. Hummel broke forth with the second of the two airs--"the Dear Violet"--to which he had recourse when in an unconstrained humor. At last he mixed up the drumming of the Dessauer with "the Dear Violet" in an artistic medley. The book-keeper, who knew that this pot pourri betokened a state of the highest spring warmth, popped his face, smiling respectfully, into the office.
"You may come to dinner to-day," said Mr. Hummel, graciously.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
OLD ACQUAINTANCES.
Since the conversation upon the Roman emperors, the Sovereign had withdrawn for a few days from his Court. He was ill. His nervous prostration, as the physicians declared, was the usual consequence of a cold. Only a few privileged persons--among them Master Knips--had access to him during this time, and they had no cause to rejoice in their confidential position, for it was difficult to deal with the princely invalid.
To-day the Sovereign was sitting in his study; before him stood an old official, with a weazen face, reporting the daily occurrences of the capital, opinions which were expressed in public places concerning the Sovereign and his illustrious house, small scandalous family anecdotes, also observations that had been made in the palace to which the Princess had gone within the last few days, and the persons she had seen there. Prince Victor paid daily visits to the Baroness Hallstein, and passed the evening with the officers of his former regiment; he had returned unexpectedly that morning.
"How do things go on in the Pavilion?" asked the Sovereign.
"According to the account of the lackey, there have been no visitors from the city, nor any letters; everything as usual in the afternoon. When the strangers were sitting in front of the door, the lady had spoken of a journey to Switzerland, but her husband replied that there could be no thought of it until he had finished his business. Then there had been an uncomfortable silence. In the evening both attended the theatre."
The Sovereign nodded, and dismissed the official. As he sat alone, he pushed his chair against the wall, and listened to the sound of a small bell which, from the further end of the room, was scarcely audible; he hastily opened the door of a niche in the wall, and took out the letters which a confidential secretary had sent up through a tube from the lower story. There were various handwritings: he passed quickly through the contents. At last he held a bundle of children's letters in his hand. Again he laughed. "So the great ball has burst already." His countenance became serious. "A genuine peasant, he has no sense for the honor of having the top-boots of a prince among his fields." He took another letter. "The Hereditary Prince to his sister. It is the first letter of the pious John Patmos, saying nothing, as if it had been written for me. That may possibly be so. The contents are scanty and cold. He expresses the wish that his sister also may pass a pleasant time in the country. We wish the same," he continued, with good humor; "she may pluck flowers and talk with scholars about the virtues of Roman ladies. This wish shall be fulfilled by all parties." He laid the letters back in the niche, and pressed a spring in the floor with his foot; there was a slight rustling in the wall, and the packet glided down.
The Sovereign raised himself from his chair and walked about the room.
"My thoughts hover restlessly about this man. I have received him with complaisance; I have even treated his insane hopes with the greatest consideration, and yet this unpractical dreamer mocks at me. Why did he make this insidious attack on me? He did it with the malicious penetration of a diseased person, who knows better than a sound one what is deficient in another. His prating was half vague reflection and half the silly cunning of a fool who also carries about him a worm in his brain. It does not matter: we know one another, as the Augur knew his colleagues. Between us a family hatred burns, such as can only exist between relations--an enduring, thorough hatred, which conceals itself beneath smiles and polite bows. Trick for trick, my Roman cousin. You seek a manuscript which lies concealed with me, but I something else, which you would withhold from me."
He sank back in his chair, and looked timidly towards the door; then put his hand into a pile of books, and drew out a translation of Tacitus. He tapped the book with his finger.
"He who wrote this was also diseased. He spied incessantly into the souls of his masters; their pictures so filled his fancy, that the Roman people and the millions of other men appeared unimportant to him: he suspected every step of his rulers, yet neither he nor his generation could do without them. He gazed at them as on suns, the eclipse of which he investigated, and which reflected their light on him, the little planet. He began to doubt the wisdom of the order of things; and that to every human mind is the beginning of the end. But he had wit enough to see that his masters became diseased through the miserable meanness of those like himself, and his best policy was that of the old High Steward, to bear all with a silent obeisance."
He opened the leaves.
"Only one, whom he has included in his book," he began again, "was a man, whom it moves one to read about. This was the gloomy majesty of Tiberius: he knew the rabble, and despised them, till the miserable slaves at last placed him among the madmen. Do you know, Professor Tacitus, why the great Emperor became a weak fool? No one knows it--no one on earth but me, and those like me. He went mad because he could not cease to be a man of feeling. He despised many and hated many, and yet he could not do without the childish feeling of loving and trusting. A common youth, who had once shown him personal devotion, caught hold of this fancy of his earthly life, and dragged the powerful mind down with him into the dirt. A miserable weakness of heart converted the stern politician of Imperial Rome into a fool. The weak feelings that rise up in lonely hours are the undoing of us all; indestructible is this longing for a pure heart and a true spirit--undying the seeking after the ideal condition of man, which is described by the poet and believed in by the pedant." He sighed deeply; his head sank on the table between his hands.
There was a slight sound at the door. The Sovereign started. The servant announced--"The Grand Marshal von Bergau." The Grand Marshal entered.
"The Princess inquired at what hour your Highness will take leave of her."
"Take leave?" asked the Sovereign, reflecting. "Why?"
"Your Highness has been pleased to order that the Princess shall this morning go to her summer castle for a few days."
"It is true," replied the Sovereign. "I am well today, dear Bergau, and will breakfast with the Princess. Will it be agreeable to you to accompany her?" he asked, kindly.
"I am very grateful to my gracious master for this favor," replied the Grand Marshal, honestly.
"What lady has the Princess chosen as her attendant?"
"As your Highness has given her the choice, she has decided upon Lady Gottlinde."
"I agree to that," said the Sovereign graciously. "The good Lady Gottlinde may be invited to breakfast, and you yourself may come also, that I may see you all once more about me before the journey. I have one more thing to say. Mr. Werner will follow you; he wishes to examine the rooms and chests of the castle for his scientific purposes. Render him assistance in every way, and show him the greatest attention. I have also a confidential commission for you."
The Grand Marshal made a piteous face, which plainly indicated a protest.
"I wish to win for us this distinguished man," continued the Sovereign. "Sound him as to what place or distinction would be acceptable to him. I wish you to observe that I am most anxious to keep him."
The Grand Marshal, much discomposed, answered:
"I assure your Highness, with the greatest respect, that I know how to value your confidence, yet this commission fills me with consternation; for it exposes me to the danger of exciting the displeasure of my gracious master. I have had opportunities of remarking that one cannot count upon gratitude from these people."
"You must not offer him anything; only endeavor to make him express some wish," replied the Sovereign dryly.
"But if this wish should exceed the bounds of moderation?" asked the Marshal hesitatingly.
"Take care not to object to it; leave it to me to decide whether I consider it immoderate. Send me a report immediately."
The Sovereign gave the signal of dismissal; watched sharply his bow and departure, and looked after the departing gentleman and gravely shook his head.
"He is not old, and yet the curse has overtaken him; he becomes grotesque. Here is another riddle of human nature for you learned gentlemen: the person who has every hour to control his countenance and manner, to whom the most rigid tact and correct forms are necessary in his daily intercourse, should, just when he becomes older, lose this best acquisition of his life, and become troublesome by his weak chattering and unrestrained egotism. You know how to answer. Emperor Tiberius, why your service, clever man, gradually made your servants caricatures of your own character? Now they have revenged themselves on you; it is all right. There is a desperate rationality in the links of the world. O misery, misery, that we should both have so little cause to rejoice at it!"
He groaned, and again buried his head in his hands.
Shortly after Ilse received the latest letters from home.
"How can the four-leaved clover be lost out of a well closed letter?" she asked her husband. "Luise, on her birthday, found some clover leaves and sent them in her former letter, to bring you good luck. The child is just at the age in which such nonsense gives pleasure. The dried clover was not in her letter, and as she is careless, I scolded her for it in my answer. To-day she assures me that she put them into the envelope the last thing."
"It may have fallen out when you opened the letter," said the Professor consolingly.
"My father is not contented with us," continued Ilse, discomposed; "he does not like it that the Prince has come into the vicinity; he fears distraction in the farm and gossip. Yet why should people gossip? Clara is still half a child, and the prince does not live upon our estate. There is a dark cloud over everything," she said; "the light of the dear sun has ceased to shine. Nothing but disturbances, the Sovereign ill, and our Hereditary Prince vanishes as if swept away by a storm. How could he go away without bidding us good-bye? I cannot set my mind to rest as to that; for we have not deserved it of him, nor of his courtly Chamberlain. I fear he does not go into the country willingly; and he is angry with me, Felix, because I said something about it. No good will come of it, and it makes me heavy at heart."
"If this trouble leaves you any thought for the affairs of other people," began the Professor, gaily, "you must allow me a small share. I think I have found the hidden castle which I have so long sought. I see from this chronicle that in the last century the country seat to which the Princess is going was surrounded by a forest. I hear that in this remote place much old household rubbish is preserved. I feel like a child on the eve of its birthday. I have made known my wishes to fate, and when I think of the hour when the present shall come to me, I feel the same heart-beating expectation which scares away sleep from the boy. It is childish, Ilse," he continued, holding out his hand to his wife, "I know it is; but have patience with me; I have long wearied you with my dreams, but now it will come to an end. The hope indeed will not come to an end, but this is the last place I have any reason to search for it."
"But if it should again happen that you do not find the book?" asked Ilse, sorrowfully, holding his hand.
A gloomy expression came over the Professor's face; he turned around abruptly, and said, harshly:
"Then I shall seek further. If Fritz had but come!"
"Was he to come?" asked Ilse, with surprise.
"I have requested him to do so," replied her husband. "He answered that his father's business and his relations with Laura prevented him. To him also it appears that a crisis is impending; he has suspicions with respect to the specification that I found here, which I consider unfounded."
"Oh, that he were with us!" said Ilse; "I long for a friendly face, like one who has for many days been traveling through a desert wilderness."
The Professor pointed towards the window.
"This wilderness looks tolerably humanized, and a visitor, such as you desire, seems already coming up to the house."
Ilse heard the rumble of wheels coming along the gravel of the castle road. A carriage stopped before the Pavilion, and the country coachman cracked his whip. The servants hastened to the door; Gabriel opened the carriage door; a little lady descended, gave a parcel to the lackey and a bandbox to Gabriel, and called out to the coachman to inquire about putting up the horses. She hastily ascended the steps, and, as she did so, gazed on the paintings and carved scrolls.
"This is a great pleasure, Mrs. Rollmaus," exclaimed Ilse, delighted, meeting her at the door.
The Professor hastened to the stranger and offered her his arm.
"My dear Ilse," cried the little lady; "revered and highly honored Professor, here I am. As Rollmaus has been charged with the superintendence of an estate in the neighborhood, in trust for a nephew, and as he has had to travel into this country to put things in order, and will stop only a short time, I thought I would take the pleasure of paying you a visit. Your father, brothers, and sisters wish to be remembered to you. Clara is growing up the very image of you."
"Come in, come in," said Ilse; "you yourself are the best greeting from home."
Mrs. Rollmaus stopped at the door.
"Only a moment," she said, pointing to the bandbox.
"You come to old friends."
"You must allow me however, that I may not disgrace this princely house."
Mrs. Rollmaus was taken into an adjoining room, the bandbox opened, and, after the best cap was put on, as well as white collar and cuffs, the learned lady floated into the sitting-room with Ilse.
"Magnificent," she exclaimed, looking with admiration at the ceiling, where the god of love held out to her his bunches of poppies. "One can see at once by the cross-bow that it is a Cupid; one frequently sees them on gingerbread figures, where they stand between two burning hearts. Dear Professor, the pleasure of meeting again, and in such surroundings, is truly very great. I have long looked forward with pleasure to this hour, when I could express to you my thanks for the last book you sent me, in which I have gotten as far as the Reformation. Rollmaus would gladly have come with me, but he has business to attend to in the distillery on account of the old boiler, which must be removed."
During this speech the eye of Mrs. Rollmaus wandered inquisitively into every corner of the room.
"Who would have thought, dear Ilse, that you and the Professor would have come into friendly relations with our princely personages? I must confess to you that I have already looked about me in driving here for the princely court-yard, which, however, probably lies on the other side, as I see only gardens here."
"There are no offices at the castle," explained Ilse, "only the stable and the large kitchen have remained."
"They say there are six cooks," rejoined Mrs. Rollmaus, "who are all great head-cooks; although I do not know for what other part of the human body they could be cooking. But the originalities of a Court are very great,--amongst which are the silver-cleaners, who, I verily believe, do not do their duty; at least, the small coin in our country is very dirty, and a great scouring day would be necessary for them. They say that the young Prince has now gone to the Chief Forester's lodge. Our Chief Forester is fully occupied; he grumbles over this royal quartering, and has ordered himself a new uniform."
She became serious and thoughtful, and there ensued an awkward pause, during which she rubbed her nose, looked at Ilse good-humoredly, and pressed her hand.
"There appears to be a storm coming," she continued, in a low tone, "and the country gentlemen complain that the spring grub has eaten the rapeseed. Here, indeed, it seems like a paradise, although I hope that no wild beasts rove about here, and it is not the season to pluck the apples from the trees with pleasure. Something seems to have turned up in the capital which is very remarkable; for as I came to the estate with Rollmaus, the Inspector told me of a fortune-teller who prophesied wonderful things of the people of this city. Do you know anything certain about her?"
"We have few acquaintances," answered Ilse; "we only get news from the papers."
"I should be glad to hear something about that person, for I have latterly begun the study of phrenology; and I hear, dear Professor, that these investigations are much combated. I do not myself feel sure about them. I have examined the head of Rollmaus, and am surprised to see how much the bump of destruction is developed behind his ear, though he is annoyed at every cup-handle the maid servants break. Nevertheless, dear Professor, I find the powers of thought shown upon your brow. The bumps are very large, by which I do not mean to say that they are unbecoming to you. But to return to the fortune-teller. She told the Inspector that he was married, and had two children, and that his wife was dead, and that he wished to take another, who would add two more. This is all correct, for he is again courting. Now, I ask you, how could this person know it?"
"Perhaps she knows the Inspector?" replied the Professor, rummaging among his papers. "I advise you not to confide in her art, and I do not recommend to you the study of phrenology. But now let us know how long you can remain with us. I am obliged to go to the Museum, and hope to find you on my return."
"I can remain a few hours," said Mrs. Rollmaus. "I have three miles to go, but the roads here are better than with us. Although now our highway is being built, and the road commissioners already go along it to the town of Rossau. Only think, dear Ilse, the stone bridge between your estate and the town is already pulled down, but they have put up a temporary one in its stead. For a few hours, then, I beg of you to be satisfied with my company."
The Professor went away; the ladies talked confidentially over the family at home, during which Mrs. Rollmaus could not entirely give up her scientific investigations; for, in the middle of the conversation, she put her fingers on Ilse's temples, and begged permission to feel the crown of her head; whereupon she said, with much delight, "There is much sincerity there, as I should have supposed." She then looked significantly at Ilse. She was loquacious and flippant, but she showed a degree of restraint which Ilse attributed to the strangeness of the place.
After Mrs. Rollmaus had admired the dwelling, criticized the pictures, and felt the texture of the furniture coverings, Ilse pointed to the sun, which was breaking through the clouds, and proposed that they should walk out into the park. Mrs. Rollmaus assented with pleasure, and Ilse had much to do to answer the questions of the excitable lady. Then they came to a part of the grounds which served as a promenade at this hour for the ladies and people of the city. "What a surprise," exclaimed Mrs. Rollmaus, suddenly seizing Ilse's arm, "the princely livery." At a turn in the path, the hat of a lackey became visible; the Princess, accompanied by Lady Gottlinde and Prince Victor, came directly towards them. Amidst the respectful greetings of the promenaders, the princely party approached. Ilse stepped aside, and curtsied. The Princess stopped. "We were on the point of calling on you," she began, kindly; "my brother was obliged to leave suddenly; he will have told your father how sorry he was that he could not take any messages from you to your family." She gave a passing look at Mrs. Rollmaus, who was supporting herself with both her hands on her umbrella, bending her head forward, not to lose a syllable that fell from the lips of the princely lady. Ilse mentioned her name.
"A kind friend from the neighborhood of Rossau, who is spending a few days near here."
Mrs. Rollmaus ducked down very low, and, almost unconscious from terror, said: "It is only three miles from here, in Toadville; although, if I may, by your Highness's permission, be graciously allowed to say so, there are no more toads there than in any other respectable place."
"You are taking a walk," said the Princess, to Ilse, "will you accompany me a little way?" She beckoned Ilse to her side, placing herself between her and the lady in waiting. Prince Victor remained behind with Mrs. Rollmaus.
"So toads are not pastured on your estate?" began the Prince.
"No, my gracious ----," replied Mrs. Rollmaus, embarrassed, supporting herself on her umbrella. "I do not really know what is the right title to address you with."
"Prince Victor," replied the young gentleman, carelessly.
"I beg your pardon; but this honorable name does not satisfy me. May I beg to know the other title, similar to what, in the case of pastors, would be expressed by Very Reverend? For to offend princely persons would not be pleasant, and I am not conversant with these forms of address."
"High and honorable lady, you may call me Highness; thus we shall both have our rights."
"It shall be as you command," exclaimed Mrs. Rollmaus, delighted.
"You have long known the Professor's wife?"
"From her childhood," explained Mrs. Rollmaus; "I was a friend of her deceased mother, and I can truly say that I have shared both happiness and sorrow with our dear Ilse. Prince Victor, it is impossible for your Highness to know her true heart as well as we do. Latterly, through her learned acquaintances, she has come into another atmosphere; but long before her betrothal it was clear to me that it would be a match."
"Good," said the Prince. "How long do you remain in the neighborhood?"
"Only until the end of the week; for Rollmaus prefers the country to the city, which is not to be wondered at; he has not the inclination for intellectual pursuits by which I am inspired. For this there is more opportunity in the city, although one, even in the country, can make one's observations on heads and other natural objects."
"The weather is changeable; is your carriage closed?" interrupted the Prince.
"It is a britscka, with a leather top to it," replied Mrs. Rollmaus. "I must honestly avow to you that it has been quite an unexpected pleasure to me that this visit has afforded the opportunity of seeing your Highness, for I have heard very much of you."
"I should be very grateful to you," replied the Prince, "if you would kindly tell me what you have heard. I have hitherto believed that my reputation was not by any means so bad as it might be."
"No one, however noble he may be, can escape calumny," exclaimed Mrs. Rollmaus, eagerly; "they talk of tricks. I fear your Highness will take it amiss if I mention this gossip."
"Tell me something of it," replied the Prince, "whatever it may be."
"They maintain that your Highness is convivial and lives quite boisterously, and other things which it would be unpleasant for me to repeat."
"Go on," said the Prince, cheerfully.
"That your Highness makes fools of other people."
"That is grievous," replied the Prince. "Is your coachman a courageous man?"
"He is somewhat surly even with Rollmaus, who indulges him much."
"Believe me Mrs. Rollmaus," continued the Prince, "it is a sorrowful business to be a prince. Disquiet from morning to evening. Every one will have something, and no one brings anything except bills. Thus all gaiety is sacrificed, one becomes sad, and slinks about through the bushes. My favorite recreation is a little quiet conversation in the evening with my old nurse and instructress, the widowed Cliquot, and to play a little 'patience.' Then one counts the good works that one has done during the day, sighs that they are so few, and looks for one's boot-jack. We are the victims of our position. If there is anything I envy the Professor's wife, it is her servant Gabriel, a trustworthy man, whom I recommend to your favorable attention."
"I know him," replied Mrs. Rollmaus; "I must acknowledge that the autobiography which you have given me agrees with all that I have discovered from the structure of your Highness's head, so far as your hat does not deprive one of the sight of it, which indeed is very much the case."
"I would be thankful to my cranium," muttered the Prince, "if it would lead everyone to believe my words as easily as you do."
"As long as I live, it will be a pleasure as well as a souvenir to me," continued. Mrs. Rollmaus, with an ambulatory curtsy, "to have been brought by accident to this intimate intercourse with your Highness, the remembrance of which I will, if I may be allowed to say so, recall to myself by your Highness's picture, which I hope may be had in the shops. I shall place myself before it when I am in the singular number, as now my son Karl does with his grammar, and think of past hours."
Prince Victor gave Mrs. Rollmaus a look of friendly benevolence.
"I will never allow you to buy my portrait. I beg permission to send you a copy as a remembrance. It is, unfortunately, not so true as I could wish. The painter has made me too large, and I am not quite content with the costume: it looks like a clergyman's gown. Meanwhile I beg you kindly to imagine it without this superfluity. Has the Chief Inspector Rollmaus good horses? Does he raise them himself?
"Always, your Highness, he is famed for it among the neighbors."
The Prince turned with fresh interest towards the little lady.
"Perhaps one could transact some business with him. I am looking out for some strong saddle-horses. What kind of a man is he to deal with?" he asked, frankly.
"He is a very sharp tradesman," replied Mrs. Rollmaus, hesitatingly, and looking at the Prince with secret pity. "He is considered by his acquaintances as an expert in horses, and--and, if I may say so--is rather knowing."
The Prince pursed up his lips, bringing out a sound almost like a suppressed whistle.
"Then he is very unlike the highly honored lady, and I shall hardly be able to do business with him. Would it not give the Professor's wife pleasure to visit you for a few days in the village of toads?"
"It would be the greatest pleasure to us," exclaimed Mrs. Rollmaus, "but the house is empty, and is not furnished, and we must manage as best we can, and the victuals, too, as a rule, are cold."
"Only in case of extreme necessity, I mean."
Meanwhile Ilse was walking by the side of the Princess through the groups of citizens making their obeisances, but her heart was not so light as that of Mrs. Rollmaus. The Princess spoke kindly to her, but upon indifferent subjects, and she turned frequently to the other side to her lady. It was clearly not her wish to enter into more conversation with Ilse than was absolutely necessary. Ilse saw clearly that it was a show of favor before the world; she felt the intention of it, and asked herself secretly why it was necessary, and her pride revolted at this graciousness, which did not come from the heart. The Princess kept Ilse for some time in the most crowded part of the promenade.
"I leave the palace to-day," said the Princess, "and go for a few days or weeks into the country. Perhaps I shall have the pleasure of seeing you there."
At parting Prince Victor took off his hat politely, but only said: "The air is becoming sultry."
Ilse brooded over this little incident as she returned with her companion to the Pavilion. She answered the animated questions of Mrs. Rollmaus absent-mindedly, and only gave a half-look at the promenaders, many of whom now took off their hats to her.
Gabriel had prepared some coffee in honor of Mrs. Rollmaus, and had set the table in front of the door. There the ladies sat down. Mrs. Rollmaus looked enchanted at the blooming azaleas, praised the cake of the palace, and still more the princely personages, and chatted away in her best humor, whilst Ilse looked seriously down.