CHAPTER XX.

A COURT MATTER.

Among the inquiries after the Professor's wife during her illness, there was one made by a stranger. Gabriel excited a little astonishment in the household when he mentioned: "Once, as I was running to the apothecary, a man of refined appearance was standing in the street talking with Dorchen. Dorchen called to me, and the man made inquiries concerning everything, and your illness seemed very inopportune to him."

"Did you ask his name?"

"He would not give it. He was from your part of the country, and had only made inquiries through the town."

"Perhaps it was some one from Rossau," said Ilse, annoyed. "I hope he has not made father anxious by his talk."

Gabriel shook his head. "He meant something by it; he tried to find out everything about the house, and asked impudent questions that I would not answer. As he had a crafty look, I followed him to the nearest inn, and the waiter told me that he was the chamberlain of a Prince." Gabriel mentioned the name.

"That is our Prince!" cried Ilse; "what can make him take such interest in me?"

"The man wished to take some news home," replied her husband. "He was among the retinue on the hunting expedition last year; and it was kindly meant."

This answer quieted Gabriel, and Ilse, much pleased, said: "It is so nice when one's Prince takes such interest in his children who are in trouble far from home."

But there was some foundation withal for Gabriel's shaking his head; the inquiries did signify something.

Behind the buildings of a country farm-house, a young lady could be seen, tying up the wild flowers of the meadow in a large bouquet; a ball of blue yarn rolled in her lap whenever she added a fresh handful of flowers. A youth was running about in the deep grass before her, busily engaged in collecting flowers, placing them in order and arranging them according to color for the nosegay-maker. It was evident that the youth and young lady were brother and sister from the marked family likeness of both countenances, and the rich walking-dress left no doubt that they had not blossomed amidst the clover and camomile of the soil, even though the horses' heads and the galoon-trimmed hats of their attendants had not been visible through a gap between the barns.

"You will never finish your bouquet, Siddy," said the young man, incredulously, to the lady, as she awkwardly tried to knot the broken thread.

"If the thread were only stronger!" cried the busy maiden; "do knot it for me!" But it turned out that the young gentleman was not more expert himself.

"Look, Benno, how beautiful the bouquet will be,--that was my idea."

"It is all much too loose," retorted the young man.

"It is good enough for the first time," replied Siddy; "there, see my hands, how sweet they smell." She showed the blue points of her little fingers, holding them up to his face; and as he good-humoredly sniffed at them, she playfully rapped him on the nose. "I have enough of the red flowers," she continued, again occupied with the nosegay; "now I must have one more circle of white."

"What kind of white?"

"If I did but know their names," replied Siddy, thoughtfully; "I mean Marguerites. What do you call these white flowers?" she asked, looking back to a countrywoman who stood in a respectful attitude some steps behind the busy pair, looking on at their proceedings with a pleased smile.

"We call them daisies," said the woman.

"Ah, that's it?" cried Siddy; "cut long stalks, Benno."

"They haven't got long stalks," said Benno, plaintively, carrying her what he could pick near at hand. "I will tell you what astonishes me," he began, sitting down by his sister on the grass. "This meadow is full of flowers; when it is mowed the grass becomes hay, and one doesn't see a thing of all the flowers in the hay."

"Really?" replied Siddy, tieing another thread. "They are probably dried up."

Benno shook his head. "Only look at a bundle of hay; you will see few of them in it. I think the people gather them beforehand, and sell them in the city."

Siddy laughed, and pointing over the green fields, said, "Look around you; they are countless, and people only buy the more lasting garden flowers; yet these are far prettier. How lovely is the star in the flower of our Lady Marguerite." She held the nosegay up to her brother, and looked lovingly at her work of art.

"You have completed it after all," said the young man, admiringly; "you were always a clever girl, Siddy, and I am so sorry that you are going away from us," he added, feelingly.

His sister gazed earnestly at him. "Are you, really? And will you always think kindly of me, my brother? You are the only one here from whom I find it hard to part, Benno. We are like two orphan children sitting in the snow of a cold winter's night."

She who thus spoke was Princess Sidonie, and the sun was shining warm on the blooming meadow before her.

"How do you like my bridegroom?" she asked, after a pause, busily winding the blue thread around the finished nosegay.

"He is a handsome man, and was very kind to me," said Benno, thoughtfully. "But is he clever?"

Siddy nodded. "I think he is. He writes nice letters. If you like, you shall read one."

"I shall be glad to do so," said Benno.

"Do you know," continued Siddy, mysteriously, "that I write to him every day! For I think a woman ought to confide everything to her husband, great and small, and I wish to accustom him and myself to that. To make sure, I write to him under a false address, and my maid takes the letters to the post, for I fear my stupid words might otherwise be read before they go." She said this with apparent indifference, examining her bouquet all the while. "He will hear every little detail of this visit to Lady Marguerite, and that it has given you pleasure. Now the bouquet is ready," she exclaimed, gaily. "I will fasten a handkerchief round it; we will take it in the carriage, and I will set it on my writing-table."

Benno laughed: "It looks like a club. You can lend it this evening to the savages in the ballet."

"It is better than the flat things which one can't even put in water," replied the sister, jumping up; "come along, we will carry it to the pump."

They hastened to the farmyard, followed by the peasant woman. Benno took a bucket and carried it to the pump.

"Let me pump," cried Siddy. She seized the handle and tried to move it, but did not succeed; only a few drops ran into the pitcher.

Benno objected. "You are too clumsy," he said, "let me try it." He now took hold of the wooden handle, and Siddy held the bucket. He pumped vigorously, and the water spurted out over the bucket, upon the hands and dress of the Princess. She made a slight exclamation, let the bucket drop, and then both burst out laughing.

"You have made a nice mess of me, you naughty wretch," cried Siddy. "Oh, it makes no difference, mother," she added, to console the woman, who ran up terrified, clasping her hands. "Now, Benno, an idea has occurred to me: I will put on a gown of our dame Marguerite, and you a smock-frock of her husband, and when our cousin comes he will not know us, and we will surprise him."

"If all only turns out well," rejoined Benno, doubtfully.

"No one sees us," urged Siddy. "Good mother," she said, coaxingly, to the country-woman, "come into your room, and help us to dress."

The young Prince and Princess took the woman by the hand and led her into the house. Benno laid his coat down in the hall, and looked doubtfully at the smock-frock, which was brought to him by a stout maid, who assisted him in putting it on. The elegant peasant lad seated himself patiently on a bench, while waiting for his companion, and employed his leisure in turning a grinding-stone and inquisitively holding the tips of his fingers close to it. Whilst he was making this experiment, he received a slight blow on his back, and with astonishment beheld, standing behind him, a little peasant maid, in blue petticoat and black jacket, and the usual cap of the country on her head.

"How do you like my appearance?" asked Siddy, crossing her arms.

"Charming," exclaimed Benno. "I had no idea that I had such a pretty sister."

Siddy made a rustic curtsy. "Where have you kept your eyes, you foolish boy? Now we must help in the household. What work can you give your new servants, Mother Marguerite?"

The woman simpered. "There is the fodder for the cows to be steeped in hot water," she said.

"No more water, we have had enough of that. Come, Benno, we will set the table in the garden under the fruit-trees, and then carry out the curds and cream."

They went into the room, and brought out a small bench placing it on the grass-plot, under an apple-tree; then they hurried back for the plates and spoons. The woman and the maid carried out the table with a large bowl of milk, and some rye bread. Siddy tripped about nimbly, laid the tablecloth, and carefully smoothing it out, placed the colored earthenware upon it.

"Look!" whispered Benno, pointing with a troubled air to the worn pewter spoons.

"We can wash them, and dry them with green leaves," advised his sister.

They ran with the spoons to the pump, and rubbed them hard with leaves, but they could not polish them.

"That's just their way," said Benno, consolingly; "it is part of a country picnic."

The table was laid, and Siddy brought forward some stools and wiped them with her cambric handkerchief.

"You are the Hereditary Prince," said Siddy, "so you must sit on the bench, and we others on each side of you. The rye bread must be crumbled, but every one can do that for themselves. There is no sugar, but that doesn't matter."

They sat waiting before the milk bowl, beating time with the spoons. A little green apple fell plump into the milk, and spattered it about. Both burst out laughing, jumped up, and collected the unripe apples and plums from the grass, peering across the hedge at a path which led through the woods to the town.

"There he comes," cried Benno; "hide yourself!"

A horseman rode up at a gallop. It was a young officer. He threw himself off his snorting horse, fastened it to a post, and leaped over the hedge. But he stopped amazed, for he was greeted with a crossfire of unripe apples and plums from each side of the hedge. He quickly collected some of the green shot, and defended himself as well as he could against the assault. The little peasants sprang forth, and Benno cried out, "You have kept us waiting a long time."

Siddy made him a curtsy, saying, "Prince, the butter-milk is served."

Prince Victor looked with evident admiration at the young peasant. "Ah!" he said, good-humoredly, "now one sees how small the feet are before which one does homage. All right, children. But first of all I must have satisfaction for the attack."

So saying, he knotted his pocket-handkerchief; the brother and sister laughed, and said, beseechingly, "Be good, cousin, we will not do it again." "Oh, dear Ogre, pardon and compassion!" implored Siddy, raising the corner of her apron to her eyes.

"Nothing of the kind," cried Victor; "I shall no doubt be arrested again on your account, and shall therefore punish you beforehand." He chased them round the table.

"This is disagreeable, cousin," cried Siddy; "let us leave off this nonsense, and come to the table. I will help you. There is the cream. Everything must be fairly distributed when Victor is present."

Victor examined the table. "It is all very nice, but there is no sugar."

"There was none to be had," cried the brother and sister, in chorus.

Victor put his hand into his pocket, and placed a silver box on the table. "What would become of you without me? Here is the sugar." He again dipped into his pocket, and brought out a leathern flask with a small drinking-glass. "Here is another important thing, the cognac."

"What for?" asked Siddy.

"To drink, most gracious cousin. If you will put this cold mess into your interior without cognac, I shall not venture to oppose you; but I advise you, Benno, as a man, to take care of your health."

Both held their spoons with an air of embarrassment.

"Is that necessary?" asked Benno, distrustfully.

"It is a pacifier, as our doctor says," declared Victor; "it calms and quells the rebel substances into quiet submission. If you refuse the cognac, it is just like on the way to hell. The path is easy at the beginning, but what follows is chaos. At all events, you would be spared the ballet to-day. Is that clear to you?"

"It is very clear," cried Siddy, "that you are as usual making sport of us. Give him a rap on his fingers, Benno."

Benno tapped his hand with the spoon. Victor sprang up and parried it, in fencing posture, with his spoon; and the brother and sister chased their cousin merrily about among the trees.

They were disturbed by a hasty tread, and a lackey made his appearance for a moment at the garden-gate. "His most Serene Highness is riding this way," he called out.

All three stood still; the spoons fell into the grass. "We are betrayed," cried Siddy, turning pale. "Away with you, Victor."

"I am an officer, and dare not run away," he replied, shrugging his shoulders. He seized his sword and hastily fastened it.

"You must take it all upon yourself," Benno, exclaimed the sister.

"I would willingly do it," replied he, timidly, "but I have never had any skill in invention."

The Prince dismounted in front of the farm-house, helped by his equerry. The lackey hastened forward to open the doors, and the Prince approached slowly like a threatening storm. He entered the garden, and his sharp eyes rested on the embarrassed Prince and Princess, who stiffy made their obeisances to him.

An ironical smile curled his lip when he saw the dishes on the table. "Who has arranged this country carnival?" he asked. All were silent. "Answer, Benno," he said, turning sharply to the young gentleman in the blue smock-frock.

"Siddy and I wished to have a little pastime in the meadow before she left our country. I spilled some water over my sister, and she was obliged to change her dress."

"Where is your lady in waiting, Sidonie?" he asked his daughter.

"I begged her to go to her aunt who lives in this neighborhood, and to return in an hour," replied the Princess Sidonie.

"She has not done right in forgetting, my commands, in order to gratify yours; and she neglected her duty in exposing the Princess to such an adventure. It's not fitting that princesses should enter village houses alone, and disguise themselves."

The Princess compressed her lips. "My gracious lord and father, forgive me. I was not alone. I had the best protector with me that a princess of our house could have, that was your Highness's son, my brother."

The Prince drew back a few steps, and looked silently into her face; and, so strong was the expression of anger and displeasure in his countenance, that the Princess turned pale and cast down her eyes.

"Has the Princess appointed Prince Victor to be her protector in the peasant's farm?" he inquired. "Has Lieutenant"--he mentioned his family name--"permission to leave the garrison?"

"I came here on horseback without permission," replied Victor, with military composure.

"Report yourself under arrest," commanded the Prince.

Victor saluted and turned away. He unfastened his horse, and, nodding behind the Prince's back, over the hedge, to his cousin, he trotted back to the town.

"Make haste and cease this mummery," ordered the Prince. "The Princess will drive home in a carriage with the Hereditary Prince."

The young people made their obeisances and left the garden.

"I had a foreboding of this misfortune," said the Hereditary Prince, to his sister, when in the carriage. "Poor Siddy!"

"I would rather be the maid of this countrywoman, and wear wooden shoes, than continue to bear this life of slavery," cried the angry Princess.

"But do not make any remarks at dinner," begged Benno.

The nosegay of wild flowers stood in the bucket, and was torn to pieces in the evening by the countrywoman's cow.

The day following, the Lord High Steward, von Ottenburg, an old gentleman with white hair, entered the apartment of the Prince.

"I have requested your Excellence to call on me," began the Prince, politely, "because I wish to obtain your advice in a family matter. The day approaches when the Princess will leave us. Have you seen my daughter to-day?" he said, interrupting himself.

"I come from her Highness," answered the old gentleman respectfully.

The Prince smiled. "Yesterday I had to speak seriously to her. The children took into their heads to act an idyl, and I found them in peasants' dresses and in high glee. Our dear Siddy had forgotten that such sport might expose her to misinterpretation, which she has every reason to avoid."

The Lord High Steward bowed in silence.

"But it is not a question of the Princess now. The time has arrived when a decision must be made concerning the next few years of the Hereditary Prince's life. I have thought of his entering one of the large armies, in spite of the consideration due to his delicate health. You know that there is only one empire in which this is possible, and even there unexpected difficulties have arisen. There are two regiments in which one might be certain that the Prince would only have familiar intercourse with the officers of high birth. One of these regiments is commanded by Colonel Kobell, who quitted our service some years ago. It is not fitting to make the Prince his subordinate. In the other regiment an unexpected occurrence has taken place within this last month. A certain Mr. Miller has been introduced into it, contrary to the wishes of the corps of officers. Thus the Hereditary Prince is debarred from belonging to the only army which he could enter."

"Allow me to ask whether this second hindrance might not be removed?" said the Lord High Steward.

"They would gladly do anything to please us," replied the Prince, "but they do not know how to manage it; for the appointment of this unaristocratic lieutenant was made for political reasons."

"Could the difficulty not be removed by giving rank to the family of the lieutenant?" suggested the Lord High Steward.

"That has been cautiously tried, but the father would not consent; and, indeed, your Excellence, the objection would remain the same. You know that I am not a purist in these things, but daily intercourse with such a person would be unpleasant to the Hereditary Prince. Whether Miller, or Von Miller, the dust of the flour would remain."

There was a pause. At last the Lord High Steward began: "The advantages of a military career are certainly undeniable for young princes who have no means or chance of finding other active employment; but is this course advisable for a future sovereign who needs a preparation for a great career? I remember that in former times your Highness did not take a favorable view of a soldier's life at Court."

"I do not deny that," replied the Prince. "I must acknowledge to you that I still take this view. The usual condition of society is not now that of war, but of peace. The necessary training of a young prince for war undoubtedly develops some manly parts of his character, but delivers him helplessly into the hands of his officials in all essential matters. In confidence, your Excellence, a pleasure in epaulets lasts just during the time of peace; but in case of a great war, where real military talent is requisite, the military dilettanteism of princes, with few exceptions, turns out to be quite useless. All this is undeniable. Unfortunately it is at present no longer fashion that determines a military career for young princes, it is a serious necessity. The times in which we live are such that a strict connection between the Court and armies is inevitable; and what at one time was thought to be unnecessary is now the support of princes."

"I do not see that the position of reigning princes is strengthened by their being bad generals," answered the Lord High Steward. "Indeed, I venture to assert that many of the difficulties which now occur between princes and their people arise from the fact that our princes occupy themselves too much with the shoeing of horses, the training of recruits, and with the prejudices and ill conduct of garrisons, and have too little of the firmness, noble pride, and princely feeling which can only be developed by practice in worthier affairs."

The Prince smiled. "Your Excellence, then, is of the opinion that the Hereditary Prince should visit the University, for there is no other mode of training when he leaves this Court. The Prince is weak and easily led, and the dangers he would incur on this path are still greater than intercourse with officers of inferior grade."

"It is true," interposed the Lord High Steward, "that during the next few years the Hereditary Prince may find certain drawbacks in the advantages of an academy; but with respect to personal intercourse, there are sons of ancient families who are worthy of the honor of associating with the Prince. It would perhaps be easier there for the young gentleman to keep clear of unsuitable society than in a regiment."

"It is not this danger which I fear for him," replied the Prince; "but the unpractical theories and disturbing ideas which are there promulgated."

"Yet we should learn what one has to battle against," rejoined the Lord High Steward. "Does your Highness think, from the varied experience which you have attained through a highly intellectual life, that an acquaintance with these ideas is so dangerous?"

"Does a person go to hell in order to become pious?" asked the Prince, good-humoredly.

"A great poet having ventured this," replied the Lord High Steward, "wrote his divine poem; and my gracious lord, who himself has always preserved a warm interest in learned pursuits, considers our Universities at best a species of mild purgatory. If an infernal flame should cling to the soil of our illustrious Prince after his return from this place, it will soon be eradicated by the high interests of his princely calling."

"Yes," assented the Prince, with lofty expression, "there is a consecration in the office of princes which fits even a weak man for the great interests which he has to grapple with through his life. But, your Excellence, it is difficult to observe without contemptuous pity the sentimental fools' paradise of the new rulers, and hear the old phrases of love and confidence believed in and spoken of by princely mouths. Undoubtedly these popular ebullitions are transitory, and many of us older ones have once indulged in dreams, and endeavoured to plant green moss where it has been withered by the sun; but the fearful dangers of the present times make such wavering more dangerous to the new rulers, and false steps in the beginning of a reign may often ruin the position of the ruler afterwards."

The Lord High Steward replied apologetically: "It is perhaps well to be wiser than others, but to be more moderate is at no period advantageous. Still a little poetry and youthful enthusiasm may be allowed to our princes; and if I therefore venture to recommend a visit to the University for his Highness, the Hereditary Prince, it is with the satisfactory feeling that in doing so I express your Highness's own opinion."

The Prince looked sharply at the Lord High Steward, and a sudden cloud passed over his brow. "How should you know what my secret thoughts are?"

"That would be quite a vain attempt with your Highness," replied the old courtier, gently, "and it would little benefit an old servant to spy into the secret thoughts of his master. But your Highness has always hitherto given the Hereditary Prince tutors and attendants who were not military. This leads every one to a conclusion respecting your Highness's wishes."

"You are right, as always," said the Prince, appeased. "It is a pleasure to me to find that your views coincide with mine. For it is a serious decision that I have to make; it robs me for a long time of the company of my dear Benno."

The Lord High Steward showed his sympathy by a silent bow. "Your Highness's decision will undoubtedly produce great changes, for it will at the same time remove all the young people from the Court."

"All?" asked the Prince, surprised. "The Hereditary Prince will depart shortly after the marriage of his sister, but Prince Victor will still remain here."

"Then I humbly beg your pardon," rejoined the Lord High Steward. "I had taken for granted that the departure of the Hereditary Prince would be followed by the entrance of Prince Victor into a foreign army."

"What makes you think that?" said the Prince, with surprise. "I have not the least intention of providing for Prince Victor abroad; he may practice the art of riding in our squadrons."

"In this case his position at Court would be changed," said the Lord High Steward, thoughtfully; "on occasions he would rank and act as the representative member of this illustrious house."

"What are you thinking of, my Lord High Steward?" replied the Prince, captiously.

"Will your Highness graciously explain how that can be avoided? The rights of blood can never be given or taken away. The Prince is the nearest relative of the Royal Family, and the rules of the Court require a corresponding position, and the Court will insist that he be not deprived of it."

"The Court!" exclaimed the Prince, contemptuously; "You might as well say at once, the Lord High Steward."

"The Lord High Steward is appointed by your Highness to watch over the regulations of the Court," replied the old gentleman, with solemnity. "But as my personal opinion, I venture to suggest that service in this capital and the proximity of the Court are not advantageous for the active and energetic spirit of Prince Victor; it may be foreseen that your Highness will often have occasion to be dissatisfied with him, and that the loss of your Highness's favour, considering the lively and popular character of the Prince, may give occasion to continual scandal and malicious talk. Therefore I venture to assume that the considerations which hinder the military career of the Hereditary Prince in a foreign army will have no weight as regards Prince Victor."

The Prince looked down moodily. At last he began, as if convinced: "I thank you for having called my attention to these considerations: I will come to a decision after mature deliberation. Your Excellence may be satisfied that I know how to value the warm sympathy you take in me and mine."

The Lord High Steward bowed and left the room; the furrows deepened in the face of the Prince as he looked after the old man.

The consequence of this conversation was that the Hereditary Prince was sent to the University, where the event did not create so much commotion as was expected at Court.

The Rector, one evening, came to Professor Werner, and after greeting Ilse, began, "You set a good example to your country when you came to us; a communication has been made from head-quarters to the University that in the next term your Hereditary Prince will begin his studies with us." Then, turning to the Professor, he continued: "It is expected that we shall all do what we can, compatibly with the duties of our office, to advance the education of the young Prince. I have to convey to you the wishes of his Highness that you should lecture to the Hereditary Prince in his own room."

"I shall give no Prince's lectures," replied the Professor; "my branch of learning is too comprehensive for that; it cannot be put into a nutshell."

"Perhaps you could lecture on some popular theme," advised the prudent Rector. "It appears to me that greater value attaches to the beneficial effect of your personal intercourse with the Prince than to the contents of your lectures."

"If it is agreeable to the Prince to be in our house, and he will accommodate himself to our habits, I shall show him every respectful and fitting attention. But in my course of instruction I shall make no change on his account. If he attends my lectures as a student, well and good; but I will never give any private lessons in his room or in that of any one else."

"Will not your refusal be regarded as an incivility?" rejoined the Rector.

"It is possible," replied the Professor, "and I must acknowledge to you that in this case it is particularly painful to me. But no personal consideration shall induce me to give up a principle. I have formerly experienced how humiliating it is to have to fashion and fit a serious subject to the comprehension of a boy who has not the necessary preparatory knowledge and the power of grasping and taking a real interest in it. I shall never do it again. But I will do all that I can for this young gentleman, although I must confess that my studies lie far from the high road of princely education. If they wish to learn of us what may be profitable for their future life, they must do so in a regular way, and they should come to us with the preparatory knowledge which alone will make it possible for them to derive advantage from learning. I have here and there observed from a distance how sad is the education of most of them. The shallow and superficial nature of their training, which renders it almost impossible for them to take a warm interest is any domain of intellectual labor, is also of little value for their future life, and gives them little capacity for their duties as rulers. We participate in inflicting this injury, if we impart a mere varnish of learned culture to youths who have not in truth as much knowledge as a freshman. And that is usually the object. It is not necessary to visit the University in order to become a useful man; but if one enters this difficult path--and I think undoubtedly that every future ruler ought to do so--it should be in a way that will secure valuable results. I do not condemn the teachers who think otherwise," concluded the Professor, "there are undoubtedly subjects in which a succinct presentation of some of the leading principles is possible and profitable. But the study of ancient learning is not of this class, and, therefore, I beg to be excused from giving private lessons to the young Prince."

The Rector expressed his approbation of these principles.

"My poor Hereditary Prince," cried Ilse, pityingly, when the Rector left.

"My poor manuscript," retorted the Professor, laughing.

"But you have made an exception in favor of your wife," rejoined Ilse.

"Here the instruction is only the guide to the elucidation of our whole life," replied the Professor. "Under these circumstances, you will be able to contemplate only from a distance the future Sovereign of Bielstein as belonging to you; and I shall also lose certain faint hopes which I had built upon the passing acquaintance with his father. For it is undoubtedly probable that my refusal will be considered as an act of capricious pride."

The Professor might have been at ease upon this point. Care would be taken that his views should not reach the destination for which they were intended. The sharpness would be blunted, the point broken, for indeed in the higher regions such an idea would be considered so monstrous that it could only be put down to the account of a reprobate man; and this was by no means the case with the Professor.

The Rector was cautious enough to give plausible reasons for Werner's refusal, and at the Prince's palace it was determined that the Hereditary Prince should attend the Professor's lectures. From a syllabus of Werner's lectures a course was selected; it was on the inspection and explanation of casts of antique sculpture, during which the Hereditary Prince and his attendant had at least not to sit among a crowd of colored caps, but could wander about in princely isolation.

Again did the ripened ears of corn wave gently under the autumn breeze, when Ilse went with her husband to the home of her childhood to visit her father. A year abounding in happiness, but not free from pain, had passed. Her own life also had been a little history in which she had experienced peace and strife, progress and weakness. Her pale cheeks showed that she had encountered suffering, and her thoughtful countenance portrayed the serious thoughts that had passed through her mind; but when she glanced at the weather-beaten church, and fixed her eyes on the dark roof of her father's house, everything was forgotten, and she felt again as a child in the peaceful home which now appeared so refreshing and comforting. The farm-people thronged round the gate; and her sisters rushed to meet her, and her father, towering above all, helped her and her husband out of the carriage. She clasped every one of them in a silent embrace; but when little Franz sprang up to her, she pressed him to her heart, and, losing all her composure, burst into tears, and the father was obliged to take the child from her arms.

They could only pay a short visit, for his professional duties compelled the Professor to return home soon; and though he had proposed to Ilse to remain longer with her father, she declined doing so.

The father looked searchingly at the manner and countenance of his daughter, and made the Professor tell him repeatedly how rapidly and easily she had made herself at home in the city. Meanwhile Ilse flew through the farm-yard and garden out into the fields, again gambolling with her little sisters, who would not let go her hand.

"You are all grown," she exclaimed, "but my curly head most of all--he will be like his father. You will be a country gentleman, Franz."

"No, a Professor," answered the boy.

"Ah, you poor child!" said Ilse.

The laborers left their work and hastened to meet her, and there were many kind greetings and questions: the head carter stopped his horses, and the grey mare tossed her head. "She knows you well," said the man, cracking his whip gaily.

Ilse went into the village, to pay a tribute of respect to the dead and to visit the living. It was with difficulty that she could get away from the invalid Benz, and when at last she did so, he called for his slate, and with trembling hands gave expression to his joy in poetry. She then made a careful inspection of the farm-yard. Accompanied by a train of maids, she walked between the rows of cattle, in spite of her fashionable dress, like the legendary Frau Berchta, who scattered blessings throughout the stable and house. She stopped before every horned head; the cows raised their mouths to her, lowing; and there was some important news to tell of each. The maids proudly showed her the young calves, and begged her to give names to the grown-up heifers--for the proprietor had desired that these young ones should be named by Ilse--and she gave them the distinguished names of Kalypso and Xantippe. All was familiar, all as formerly, and yet at every step there was something new to eye and ear.

Clara showed her household accounts: the young girl had kept them admirably. The praises which were bestowed upon her by the house-keeper and by the dairy maid, in confidential conversations, gave Ilse great pleasure, and she said: "Now, I am quite satisfied you can do without me here."

Towards evening the Professor sought his wife, who had been absent some hours. He heard the noise of the children by the brook, and guessed where Ilse was. When he turned round the rock by the cave he saw her sitting in the shadow, her eyes turned to her father's house. He called her name, and stretched out his arms towards her; she flew to his bosom, and said, softly: "I know that my home is in your heart; bear with me, when old recollections crowd upon my mind and move me deeply."

At night, when her father conducted the Professor to his bedroom, still conversing with him upon business and politics, Ilse sent her sister Clara to bed, and seated herself in her chair. When her father came in to fetch his candle from the table, he found Ilse again in her old place, waiting to bid him good night, while she handed him the candle stick. He placed it on the table, and, walking up and down the room, as he had done of yore, began, "You are paler and more serious than you used to be. Will that pass?"

"I hope it will," replied his daughter. After a time she continued, "They believe and think very differently in the city from what we do, father."

The father nodded. "That was the reason I was anxious about you."

"And it is impossible for me to free myself from painful thoughts," said Ilse, softly.

"Poor child," said the father, "it passes my powers to help you. For us, in the country, it is easy to believe in a father's care, when one goes across the fields and sees the growth of everything. But let a simple countryman say a word in confidence to you. Moderation and self-renunciation are necessary in all earthly concerns. We are not better in the country and more sensible because we care little for what is mysterious to man. We have no time for subtle inquiries, and if a thought alarms us, our work helps to dispel our doubts. But thoughts return frequently. I have had days--and have still--when my brains have been on the rack, although I knew that no good would come of it; therefore I now endeavor to keep such thoughts away. This is prudence, but it is not courage. You are placed in a sphere in which hearing and reflecting are unavoidable. You must struggle through it, Ilse. But do not forget two things: on difficult subjects men take very different points of view, and on that account they have, from the most ancient times, hated and slaughtered each other like cannibals, merely because each considered himself in the right. This should be a warning to us. There is only one thing effectual against doubts: to do your duty and concern yourself with what lies in your daily path; for the rest, do not despair because one thinks differently from another. Are you sure of your husband's love?"

"Yes," replied Ilse.

"And have you a thorough respect for his conduct to yourself and others?"

"Yes."

"Then all is well," said the father; "for a tree is known by its fruits. As regards the rest, do not worry about the present or the future. Give me the candle, and go to your husband. Good night, Frau Professor."

[END OF FIRST VOLUME.]

THE

LOST MANUSCRIPT

A NOVEL

BY

GUSTAV FREYTAG

Authorized Translation from the Sixteenth German Edition

COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME

SECOND, UNALTERED EDITION

PART II

CHICAGO

THE OPEN COURT PUBLISHING COMPANY

LONDON: Kegan Paul, Trench, Truebner & Co.

1898